"Run! Close the formation!"
shouted Kuzma, his voice firm as steel.
"Andrei, hold the impact! Daria, Blind! Ekaterina, sonic attack! With me, Gerasim!"
Nikolai could hardly believe what he was seeing. The orders were perfect, each command fitting like gears in a machine.
Andrei roared, planting his shield into the ground. Two creatures lunged at him, but the half-bear colossus withstood the blow like a living wall while swinging his massive club at the enemies' flanks.
Daria raised her staff: an explosion of white light cut through the darkness, blinding the beasts. The flash also struck Andrei, who kept his eyes shut, relying on his hardened skin.
Ekaterina seized the moment. Her voice echoed — strange, dissonant — reverberating among the rocks.
It wasn't a spell Nikolai could recognize right away, but the effect was evident: wherever the spell passed, heads exploded.
After seeing her use the spell twice, Nikolai finally identified its essence. It was a direct refinement of the most basic form of sound amplification — a millimetric, calculated adjustment.
The beasts that didn't die from the sound's impact writhed, their bodies trembling as if their bones were trying to escape through their skin, or as if their brains had melted, leaving only living shells convulsing violently.
Andrei wore ear protection — a sign that this attack was common in their hunts and, most likely, not something Ekaterina could control with one hundred percent accuracy.
Kuzma slid along the side, sword in hand. The short, jagged blade slashed with terrifying precision — cutting tendons, piercing throats, turning every strike into a clean execution.
At his side, Gerasim lunged with bites and swipes, fierce and brutal. She was small, but unrelenting in her attack — more like a creature consumed by rage than a black bear.
Even Nikolai doubted her origin. That wasn't normal behavior: black bears were usually more introspective, even docile. But soon he understood — training and time had turned those two into something beyond the stereotype. It was that or die down there. In the end, they chose to fight.
Laika, Andrei's armored bear, held the flank without hesitation. Any enemy who dared breach the human barrier and approach Ekaterina met the weight of her mass and the crushing force of her paws and jaws.
Nikolai watched in awe, trying to take it all in. The group looked like an orchestrated storm. But then he heard Kuzma's voice:
"Nikolai, whenever you're ready!"
He blinked, remembering himself. Two distant enemies were starting to retreat. They were too far — perhaps between fifty and sixty meters. Nikolai knew that, using only the Alkonost cord, he would never be able to kill them.
It would be a good excuse: he could save the arrow they had given him and still bring down the creatures —
But that wasn't all. Nikolai wanted to test something. He wanted to prove his power outside that room.
He quickly released the physical cord, and soon felt the energy course through his body. An ethereal line and an arrow of light formed on his bow — burning, vibrant.
The shot sliced through the air and, at the last moment, split in two. The arrows of light pierced the monsters, who dropped lifeless, without a sound.
Silence. The field was covered in bodies.
That's when Kuzma's voice exploded:
"Hey! Why did you do that?!"
Nikolai was confused.
"What do you mean? I killed the enemies."
"You don't understand what you did…"
Kuzma stepped forward, eyes hard.
"Brother… he's new,"
Daria intervened, her tone low, almost pleading.
Kuzma sighed, but didn't soften his words.
"Kid… do you know why we bought arrows for you?"
Nikolai lowered his eyes.
"Of course, but I wanted to save them, sir."
"Save them? Boy, down here what you need to save is every drop of your magic. It must be reserved for emergencies."
Kuzma pointed to Daria and Ekaterina.
"Blinding is just a flash of intense light, cheap and instantaneous. The sonic attack is considered one of the most lightweight spells in Ekaterina's repertoire. Everything we use is designed to conserve energy. The more we save, the longer we survive at this level. While they thought about that, you used two extremely expensive spells to take down two creatures that posed no threat to the group. That is unacceptable in my team."
Nikolai felt the weight of the scolding. He realized he had wasted too much energy on weak enemies — and worse, they had been retreating. He had wanted to prove he wasn't useless, but he'd chosen the wrong moment.
"I understand, sir. I apologize. I just wanted… to test what I've learned."
Kuzma stared at him for a moment, then turned away without saying another word.
"This isn't a place for tests. Here, you follow orders. Nothing else."
He walked off to check on Andrei, leaving Nikolai stewing in shame.
It was Daria who approached, her gaze gentler.
"Don't worry. Sometimes he's too harsh in the field. You probably spent all your energy on that attack. Want to rest a bit?"
Nikolai's eyes widened. No… he felt like he had used at most ten percent of his power.
"Hm… actually, I'm fine. I used that ability precisely because it doesn't consume much."
Daria looked at him in surprise, but said nothing more — perhaps unconvinced, perhaps simply choosing not to press the matter.
"All right,"
said Daria, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"But if you feel a headache, or if your legs start to feel heavy… let me know. Don't push yourself past your limits."
"Yes. Thank you,"
he replied, trying to sound calm, but his voice came out weak.
As she walked away, Nikolai remained still, the bow still firm in his hand. Inside, his mind was boiling.
Why did they think I used all my magic?
He could feel, clearly, that he had barely used a fraction of his energy. Ten percent — maybe less. His body wasn't heavy, his breathing was steady. He was whole.
He knew how his body reacted at the limit. He had made a point of pushing it close to that edge almost every day he'd spent in that room. There were spells so difficult they bordered on the impossible. But the ones he had trained in to exhaustion — those, he had mastered confidently. He didn't just know how to use them, but also how far he could go.
And there was something else. Kuzma had said that Ekaterina's sonic attack was a weak, cheap spell — a tool of little usefulness. But in Marya's Book… no. There, the same spell was described as one of the most powerful area-destructive abilities. Strong enough to burst heads and tear through entire groups — but extremely demanding and draining.
Nikolai began to suspect that, just as Ekaterina had adapted the spell to make it more powerful, the book's author must have included an advanced version of the spell. And that, in a way, only heightened his curiosity.
He closed his eyes for a moment. He still remembered the scribbled pages, the success stories, the author's footnote:
"Few can control the intensity. For most, all that's left is to use reduced, diluted versions that only disorient or are barely effective against extremely weak enemies."
He was pulled back to reality by Cristerina's sudden pulse. Ekaterina was climbing back up, raising the sphere above the group.
Her spell had only twisted the creatures, forcing them to the ground. In the end, even with the enemy already immobilized by Andrei and Laika, she still managed to make only the heads of two nearby ones explode.
Certainly, that was nowhere near the brutality described in the Book of Marya.
She's using a weakened version… or she was trained to believe that's all this spell can do.
A shiver ran down his spine. What if the difference wasn't in the spell itself, but in who was casting it?
Nikolai shook his head. It wasn't the time to get lost in useless thoughts — not here, not now. Cristerina pulsed above their heads with a silent red glow, as if anticipating the chaos to come.
The journey was far from its destination, and enemies were already appearing. It was clear that the land beneath Svarog didn't belong to humans but to the beasts that roamed the territory, always lying in ambush for their next meal. Kuzma seemed nervous — after all, the creatures they had just fought had nothing of value to offer but fatigue and danger.
The Upyr emerged from the darkness of the stone fissures, like worms drawn to heat and blood. They were indescribable creatures, deformed by some ancient mistake. Some dragged their hind legs; others moved forward with clumsy snaps, leaning on four asymmetrical limbs. None were truly bipedal or quadrupedal — they were abominations between the natural and the nightmarish.
They were repulsive. Ravenous. And numerous.
That was the true danger of those creatures: not their strength, but their numbers. And their endless hunger. The Upyr devoured anything that breathed — and in the absence of prey, devoured each other.
The problem was that they found Kuzma's group before they began their slaughter among themselves.
"Brother… why so many today?"
murmured Daria, unable to hide her tension.
"I thought the scouting teams had already cleared this sector…"
She crouched, panting, looking with disgust at the ninth twisted corpse lying torn apart on the ground by Laika. They had walked less than two kilometers — and were already surrounded by carcasses.
Kuzma wiped the bloodied blade on his thigh guard and sighed.
"Honestly… I don't know, sister. Maybe the truce between the North and the Empire is making the teams hold back, saving energy for a possible summon. And so, they've stopped even doing the basics."
He looked up, worried. The plain there was treacherous — it looked open and safe, but the holes hid the Upyr like ant nests.
Nikolai watched in silence. He still didn't understand Kuzma's unease — until he glanced at Andrei. The half-beast giant was panting. The veins in his neck bulged. Steam from sweat danced at the edges of his helmet. Every blow he blocked, every charge he held back, took a bit more breath from him. Even weak monsters, in a pack, wore you down like the tide against rock.
"Let's push forward,"
Kuzma decided, his voice commanding.
"We need to get out of here as fast as possible. We'll rest and regroup later. We can't burn energy here. We haven't even seen the nest yet."
The problem was clear to everyone: if the floor's entrance was overrun, then the Simargl nest would be too. For ambitious hunters, that was gold. For those just trying to survive the week and sell a few trophies… it was practically a death sentence.
After they left what seemed to be Upyr territory, things calmed down. Everyone was able to rest. The enemies that appeared were just wanderers, sporadic, and it was during this lull that Nikolai had a chance to refine his use of the Alkonost bow and cord.
Unfortunately, he was even more pathetic than he had imagined. After all, he was now facing living creatures — unpredictable, resilient, and unwilling to die. The four stray Upyr attacks were clear, weak, and simple… and even so, in every one, he needed help.
Fortunately, it seemed that everyone there knew: learning archery was much harder than it looked at first glance. Magic didn't require a bow or an arrow — they were just conduits. Unlike archery, magic was pure intent. It ignored factors like wind, force, and precision. That, anyone with experience knew. But Kuzma and his team made a point of saying nothing to Nikolai. After all, the best motivator had always been the frustration of feeling useless.
After a few hours, they finally reached less than a kilometer from the point marked on the map. Kuzma pointed to a depression shielded by rocks — an empty pit that, from a distance, looked natural, but upon closer inspection, was clearly artificial. It had probably been dug out as a resting point.
Ekaterina was the first to break the silence.
"Don't you think we should turn back and link up with another team?"
Her suggestion was sharp, blunt.
Kuzma turned, surprised.
"You want to give up?"
"It's not giving up. It's strategy. If this Upyr pattern continues, and the nest is as full as I fear… we won't come back alive."
The group fell silent. A stalemate was forming. The men wanted to press on — confident they could handle it. The women weighed the growing risks. Nikolai watched their faces. Each expression was doing the math: risk versus reward. Body versus contract. Strength versus luck.
"Nikolai…"
Daria turned to him.
"You're the tie-breaker vote."
He took a deep breath. The chill of responsibility ran down his spine. But his answer came firmly, even if fueled by youthful boldness:
"We could try to take out some of the wanderers or stragglers first. If everything goes wrong, we run. We've got open field, distance advantage, and still a reasonable amount of magical power."
Kuzma looked at him, brow furrowed. But he recognized a trait he himself had once had in his youth: restless confidence, but grounded.
And after all, retreating now… would only mean loss. The twins had already been paid to secure the route. And Upyr weren't worth anything on the Medved market. Not even peasants bothered to buy them — fetid meat, brittle bones, essence too rotten for any use.
"He's right,"
said Andrei, cracking his neck.
"If we go back, we lose out."
With a consensus forged by necessity, the group rested just enough to be ready for whatever might come. Then they moved toward the nest.
According to the map, it was located at the heart of the plain — a dark crater that tore into the earth down to the second floor and beyond. The Simargl nests inhabited deeper layers, breaking through the floors like volcanoes of beasts. They preferred to climb to the first floor to hunt the Upyr with ease. It wasn't the most nourishing prey, but certainly the safest.
It was clear that only the weaker Simargl chose to remain on the first floor — or, at least, that's what all northerners wanted to believe.
The edge of the pit was almost a natural trap: a funnel of death. For this reason, the Simargl defended it like an altar of survival.
"Five visible sentries,"
whispered Ekaterina, after scaling a ledge.
"And judging by the movement inside… between twenty and thirty Simargl. Maybe more."
The group went silent, tense. Facing ten was already a challenge. Thirty… was suicide.
"If we kill the sentries quickly, we can take the edge and kill those who come out one by one,"
suggested Kuzma, hesitant.
"If they don't have time to coordinate, maybe…"
But even he doubted the plan's effectiveness.
While the others digested the idea with downcast eyes, Nikolai was calculating in silence. His mind visualized routes, firing angles, fallback zones, energy efficiency. The light arrow would split precisely. Cristerina would detect movement. Ekaterina could stun. Daria could blind. The first strike could be overwhelming. It was the perfect opportunity.
He raised his eyes, the decision already made.
"I think we can do it."