"Hey," said the boy at the front of the group, wearing a smile far too wide to be innocent.
"As for the leader of your group… I'd like to know who that is."
He took two more steps forward, examining each face as if assessing merchandise.
"I want to make a few deals. Or rather…" he shrugged casually, "my group needs a few little things, and yours seems to have a few little things too many."
He waved his hand vaguely.
"So, be polite. Tell me who's in charge here. Or are you just some research group?"
Silence fell heavy over the clearing.
"Because let me warn you," he continued, lowering his voice, "if this organization of yours is bigger than it looks… you're coming with us. As prisoners."
Angelo stepped forward.
"It's extremely rude to approach people without even introducing yourself."
The boy laughed.
"Rude? Introductions?" He tilted his head, amused. "Man, I'm Miles. Everyone knows me."
He opened his arms theatrically.
"Ruler of this forest. The conqueror. The seducer."
A few members of his own group exchanged embarrassed glances.
"Miles Fiurin. Fourteen years old," he continued. "And before you ask… yes, I'm the one in charge here."
One of the boys behind him leaned closer and whispered urgently.
"Boss… boss… don't you recognize that one?"
"Recognize who?" Miles pointed at himself. "Me? Of course I recognize myself. I'm handsome."
"No… him," the boy insisted, tense. "That's Angelo Orson."
Miles' smile faltered for just a moment.
"Oh… Orson." He snapped his fingers. "That explains the blue hair. Knew I'd seen you somewhere."
He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with malice.
"You're famous with the girls, you know that? Lots of them want you."
A cruel half-smile curved his lips.
"Funny thing… there's one I liked quite a lot. Too bad she only has eyes for someone she'll never see again."
Angelo didn't blink.
"This isn't about personal revenge," Miles continued. "It's about survival. For my group."
"No," Angelo replied flatly.
"What do you mean, no?" Miles frowned. "What are you going to do, Orson? You're alone. I've got twenty people here."
He paused, then laughed.
"Well… technically not just guys. We've got six girls too. Beautiful ones, by the way."
He leaned forward.
"And the best part? Their artifacts. Shiny weapons. Stuff that goes boom."
Angelo's laughter echoed unexpectedly through the clearing.
Miles stiffened.
"What's so funny?"
Angelo wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
"You're really hilarious. Ever thought about becoming a comedian in Orb Valley?"
Until then motionless, Tocre let out a faint smile.
"Only Angelo…"
"So this is a joke to you?" Miles growled.
"It is," Angelo replied. "Because you got it completely wrong. You'd never defeat us. And by the way…"
He pointed behind him.
"I'm not the leader."
Miles followed his finger.
There he was.
Black hair. Dark clothes. A steady gaze. Silent.
"That's my cousin. Tocre."
The name fell like a stone.
Miles took two steps back.
"Tocre… Orson?"
Tocre stepped forward calmly.
"Yes. That's me."
His voice was low. Controlled.
"And even if you tried… you wouldn't harm us at all."
"There are twenty of us!" Miles shot back. "You're five!"
"True," Tocre said. "You have numerical advantage."
He pointed toward the brothers.
"Bale. Water."
Then to another.
"Korvel. Mist."
The air seemed to grow heavier.
"One command from me," Tocre continued, "and you'll see nothing but white. Your only option would be to run."
He gestured toward Angelo.
"He can take down five without effort."
Then toward Lana.
"She can erase ten of you from existence. No trace left behind."
Finally, Tocre took a step forward.
"As for me… there's no need for explanations."
His voice deepened. Weighted.
The air condensed.
Miles swallowed hard.
"Don't choose stupidity," Tocre said. "Here are your options."
"One: you fight, you die, and we waste time."
"Two: you hand over five of yours. The rest walk away."
The sun was beginning to set.
Miles glanced around. He knew what came with the night.
"Damn it… damn it…" he muttered.
He turned to his group.
"Five. Now."
The chosen ones stepped forward, trembling.
"Next time," Miles snarled, "I'll kill every single one of you with my own hands."
"Dream about it," one of the youths replied as he passed by.
Miles' group retreated—fifteen shadows swallowed by the forest.
Before disappearing completely, Tocre called out:
"Miles."
He turned.
"In this game of dominion… you lost pieces."
He paused.
"Next time, choose your prey better. Or the predator won't be you."
Miles smiled, furious.
"Next time… someone will pay."
When silence returned, Tocre faced the new members.
"Very well."
He took a deep breath.
"Let's revise our strategies."
While countless groups competed against one another, alliances strengthening and enemies being born… shadowed figures began to move along the edges of the darkness.
Kall and Ragnar, on the other hand, had survived until then almost silently. No direct confrontations. No attention drawn. They found a small clearing hidden among dense trees and stayed there for three days, living off what little they could hunt and an improvised cabin built from a single tree they had felled together.
Ragnar began to feel something dangerous.
Confidence.
"See?" Kall said, adjusting the cabin's crude door. "I told you. If we stick together, nothing happens."
Night was already descending. The sky darkened too quickly, as if the forest itself were impatient. The last thread of sunlight vanished behind the treetops, and the moon began to rise—pale, watchful.
The two prepared to enter the cabin.
Then… footsteps.
They didn't come from far away.
They didn't come from nearby.
They were simply there.
They stopped.
"Did you hear that?" Ragnar whispered.
Footsteps again. Heavier. Slower.
"I don't see anyone…" Kall said, forcing calm.
The air felt colder. Denser.
Steps.
Steps.
Steps.
A silhouette began to detach itself from the darkness between the trees.
Ragnar felt his hands tremble.
"Kall… what the hell is that coming toward us?"
"I don't know," Kall replied, already in a defensive stance. "But stay alert."
The shape advanced a little more, revealing itself slowly, as if it wanted to be seen.
Large.
Massive.
Two solid legs planted into the ground.
Two long arms ending in claws.
Thick fur covering its entire body.
And teeth.
So many teeth. Long. Sharp.
The creature raised its head.
Opened its mouth.
And the night itself seemed to hold its breath.