The night pressed on, heavy and foreboding, as the remaining members of the Renaissance Band steeled themselves for whatever was to come. 

The cabin was filled with an intense, quiet urgency as Leeani gently moved Ruby's limp body to the bed, positioning her comfortably. 

Jiighual did the same for Zach, carefully laying him beside Ruby, his massive frame handling the captain's body with surprising tenderness. 

"Captain, you'll be fine."

The bed creaked slightly under the combined weight, a stark reminder of the heavy burden that now fell upon the group.

Nert positioned himself at Ruby's side, his normally jovial demeanor now replaced with a look of stern focus, his hand hovering protectively over her. 

"Ruby..."

Jiighual, though usually relying on Zach's leadership, found himself staring at their unconscious leader, the gravity of the situation clear in his expressions. 

Jiighual's eyes flickered with a rare vulnerability; his usual gluttonous grin replaced with a deep furrow of worry.

In the living room, Gargeal, Lyra, Seraphina, Yzavynne, Leeani, and Qarek gathered in a circle. 

A makeshift war council formed in the dim light, the glow from a single lantern casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. 

The air was thick with a mixture of fear and determination as they readied themselves, the silence only broken by the occasional crackle of the lantern flame.

Gargeal, stoic as ever, was the first to break the silence. 

His deep, commanding voice seemed to echo in the small space. 

"Lyra," he said, turning his cold gaze towards her.

"I know what Seraphina is capable of. We saw it back on the ship. But I need to know your strengths. What can you bring to this fight?"

Lyra's eyes glinted, her jaw set with resolve. 

"I'm the top hunter and blacksmith of EmberWind Village."

Her hand moved to the quiver at her back, drawing an arrow with a sleek, shimmering shaft. 

"And these," she said, holding up the arrow for everyone to see.

"Are my enchanted arrows."

Yzavynne leaned in, her curiosity piqued. 

"Enchanted arrows? How do they work?"

Lyra smirked slightly, glad for the chance to showcase her craftsmanship. 

"I made enchanted arrows using silver and ironwood. The tips are dipped in a concoction that includes holy water and powdered sunlight stone. These arrows are designed to pierce through dark energy and disrupt her spells."

Leeani's eyes widened in admiration. 

"You crafted all of this yourself?"

"Yes," Lyra nodded, her expression turning serious. 

"I've been preparing weapons like these for years, ever since strange things started happening in our village. I knew we'd need them eventually."

Qarek, who had been silently brooding, chimed in, frustration lacing his voice. 

"My war axe got stolen by Evelori. I'm practically unarmed now."

Without missing a beat, Lyra flicked her wrist, sending a small knife spinning through the air toward Qarek. 

He caught it effortlessly, his reflexes sharp despite the tension in the room. 

He examined the blade, noticing the same runes etched along the hilt.

Lyra gave him a small, approving nod. 

"That's one of my throwing knives. It's practically made of the same thing as these arrows."

Qarek weighed the knife in his hand, feeling its balance. 

He gave a small, appreciative grunt. 

"Not bad. It's light, but it feels solid."

Lyra gave him a tight smile. 

"You'll need it. She's not going to be easy to take down, right?"

Qarek answered.

"Yes, she won't be easy to take down."

As the group absorbed Lyra's explanation, Seraphina stepped forward, her usually bubbly demeanor replaced with a somber intensity. 

She reached into her side bag, pulling out several small vials filled with a swirling, emerald liquid. 

Without a word, she began passing them around.

Gargeal uncorked his vial, sniffing it cautiously. 

"What is this?"

Seraphina's eyes were serious as she explained. 

"It's a potion I made using a mixture of nightshade petals, ground mandrake root, and a drop of unicorn's tear." 

Her words were rapid yet clear, her usual excitement replaced with the urgency of the situation. 

"The nightshade numbs the nerves, making us resistant to toxins. The mandrake root provides a temporary boost to our body's resistance against paralysis. And the unicorn's tear—well, that's the key ingredient. It binds the potion to our spirit, giving us a protective aura against Evelori's green toxins."

Leeani, staring at the vial in her hand, asked.

"How long will the effects last?"

"About an hour, give or take," Seraphina replied. 

"It's not perfect, but it should buy us enough time to confront Evelori without succumbing to her poison immediately. Those are all the potion I have left... except one, one that I'll be using if we have no other choices left."

Yzavynne looked at Seraphina, impressed. 

"You came prepared. When did you have time to make this?"

Seraphina gave a small, tight smile. 

"On the ship. I noticed some strange herbs in the forest as we docked, so I took the opportunity to gather what I needed. I had a bad feeling about this night."

Without hesitation, Leeani, Yzavynne, Gargeal, Qarek, and Lyra uncorked their vials and downed the potion in one go. 

The liquid burned slightly as it went down, a bitter aftertaste lingering in their throats, but they could already feel a tingling sensation spreading through their veins—a sign the potion was taking effect.

Gargeal wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression as unreadable as ever. 

"Good. We'll need every advantage we can get."

Lyra tightened her grip on her bow, her knuckles white. 

"We should move fast. The longer we wait, the more time Evelori has to prepare... or to do whatever she's planning with Andhur and Kazaks."

Yzavynne nodded, her face set with determination. 

"Let's go. We can't afford to waste any more time."

Qarek gave one last look at the bedroom door, his expression conflicted. 

"I hope they'll be alright."

Jiighual, from inside the room, gave him a thumbs up. 

"We'll keep them safe. You just focus on getting our friends back."

With a final nod of resolve, the group made their way out of the cabin, their minds sharpened by the potion and their resolve hardened by the threat looming over them. The night was far from over, and they knew that whatever lay ahead would test every ounce of their strength and willpower.

But they were ready—or as ready as they could be for the horrors that awaited them in the dark.

△▼△▼△▼△

The cold night air whipped against their faces as Qarek, Gargeal, Yzavynne, Leeani, Seraphina, and Lyra sprinted through the darkened paths of EmberWind Village. 

The dim moonlight painted their surroundings in a silver hue, shadows stretching like creeping hands along the ground. 

The group moved swiftly, their breaths clouding the air, each step echoing the urgency of their mission.

They were headed for Yzavynne and Leeani's shared cabin, where their weapons lay waiting. 

They needed to be prepared—fully armed—if they were going to confront Evelori and rescue Kazaks and Andhur. 

The stakes were high—

And there was no time for hesitation.

Just as they approached the cabin, Gargeal abruptly halted. 

His sudden stop was jarring, his usually silent demeanor now replaced with a purposeful, deadly calm. 

The others skidded to a halt around him, the gravel crunching under their boots.

Qarek, sensing something amiss, immediately turned to his master. 

"What's the matter, Master?" 

Gargeal's eyes narrowed, his jaw set as he stared into the distance, towards the heart of the village. 

His grip tightened on the hilt of his greatsword, still sheathed on his back. 

"The village..." he muttered, his voice low but filled with a resolve that sent a shiver down everyone's spine. 

"I'll go there. By myself."

Seraphina's eyes widened in shock. 

"Gargeal, wait, what are you talking about? Are you saying you can take on all those creatures alone!?"

Gargeal's icy gaze shifted to her, unyielding. 

"I'll slay all those abominations," he declared, his tone as sharp as his blade. 

"Whatever the witch has made of those villagers—if they are no longer human—I will cut them down. You five."

He pointed at the others.

"Stick together. Your mission is to retrieve Kazaks and Andhur. They're our priority. Leave the rest to me."

Seraphina began, the words catching in her throat. 

"But—"

Her concern was evident; her energetic spirit now clouded with fear for him.

Before she could finish, Leeani interrupted, her voice confident and clear. 

"He'll be fine."

The trust she had in Gargeal was absolute—

The kind that was built through years of witnessing his unmatched combat prowess. 

"If anyone can handle whatever's out there, it's Master."

Lyra, however, still looked uncertain. 

She opened her mouth to protest. 

"But—"

This time, it was Qarek who cut her off. 

"Master," he said, his eyes locking with Gargeal's in a rare, heartfelt moment of connection. 

"Take care, alright?"

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Gargeal's lips. 

He stepped closer to his disciple, resting a heavy, calloused hand on Qarek's shoulder. 

"I should be the one saying that to you," he replied. 

"Don't underestimate your master. I may not be as smart as Zach."

He admitted, a hint of humility in his deep voice.

"But even he declared me the strongest warrior he's ever met."

The revelation hung in the air like a clap of thunder. 

Lyra and Seraphina exchanged stunned glances. 

Yzavynne, Qarek, and Leeani had always known Gargeal was powerful, but to hear that Zach—Zach, their brilliant strategist and nearly invincible captain—had such high regard for him was something else entirely. 

The shock was clear in their widened eyes and open mouths.

Gargeal straightened, his smirk fading back into his usual stoic expression. 

He barked, his voice a command that brooked no argument.

"Now go!" 

Without another word, Qarek, Yzavynne, Leeani, Seraphina, and Lyra spun on their heels and resumed their sprint towards the cabin. 

The sound of their hurried footsteps faded into the distance as Gargeal watched them go. 

He then slowly reached back, unsheathing his massive greatsword with both hands. 

The blade gleamed in the moonlight, a monstrous weapon that looked as though it could cleave a mountain in two.

He hefted the greatsword over his shoulder, its weight seemingly nothing to him despite its enormous size. 

With a deep breath, he crouched low, muscles tensing like a coiled spring. 

Then, in an explosive burst of speed, Gargeal took off, running towards the village center.

"Let's do this. Quick and effortlessly."

His movements were a blur, a terrifying display of raw power and speed that seemed impossible for someone carrying such a heavy weapon. 

The ground shook slightly with each of his steps, his form a dark silhouette against the moonlit backdrop.

Lyra and Seraphina, who had instinctively glanced back to watch him go, were left speechless. 

They never knew that Gargeal was that strong, seeing him like this—

In his element, charging headfirst into the unknown, with such unflinching resolve—

Was awe-inspiring.

Seraphina whispered under her breath, eyes wide. 

"He's... unbelievable."

Lyra nodded slowly, still staring after him. 

"No wonder their captain called him the strongest warrior. He's like a force of nature."

The two women exchanged a brief, silent look, a newfound respect for the stoic warrior settling between them. 

They turned their focus back ahead, the urgency of their own mission snapping them back to reality. 

Yzavynne and Leeani's cabin loomed ahead, its wooden frame barely visible in the darkness. 

The two women hurried up to the door, Yzavynne already reaching for the handle.

Inside, they quickly rummaged through their belongings. 

Yzavynne grabbed her whip blade, the familiar weight of the weapon comforting in her hand. 

She tested its length, the metal coils gleaming as they twisted in her grip. 

Leeani snatched up her crossbow, checking its mechanisms with practiced ease, her fingers moving nimbly as she loaded a bolt.

Qarek asked, his eyes scanning the room.

"Are you all ready?" 

Yzavynne gave a sharp nod, her usual calm expression hardened into one of fierce determination. 

"More than ready."

Leeani slung her crossbow over her shoulder, her face set with a serious expression. 

"Let's get our friends back!"

Seraphina and Lyra exchanged a final, determined look, their earlier hesitation replaced with a burning resolve. 

Together, the five of them—Qarek, Yzavynne, Leeani, Seraphina, and Lyra—burst out of the cabin, the cold night air greeting them like a slap in the face. 

They took off running again, this time with purpose, their destination clear: they were heading straight for the witch Evelori's last known location, ready to face whatever horrors lay in wait.

They knew they were racing against time—

Every second counted—

And failure was not an option.

△▼△▼△▼△

Gargeal's boots skidded against the dirt as he came to an abrupt halt. 

He breathed heavily, taking in the horrific scene before him. 

At the village's edge, there were dozens—no, hundreds—of figures, their silhouettes illuminated by the faint moonlight. 

They moved like broken puppets, their limbs jerking in disjointed, unnatural motions, shuffling and swaying as if pulled by invisible strings.

His eyes narrowed, and he gripped the hilt of his greatsword tightly. 

These were no longer people; they were hollow shells, controlled or created by some twisted force. 

Their faces were devoid of emotion, their eyes wide open and vacant, staring into an abyss that only they could see. 

It was as if their souls had been ripped out—

Leaving behind nothing but husks.

Suddenly, one of the creatures broke from the group, grabbing a young boy who had wandered too close. 

The boy let out a terrified scream.

"AHHHH!" 

His eyes widened in pure horror as he was yanked forward. 

The creature's face was a mask of twisted neutrality.

Its lifeless eyes boring into the boy's as if studying him with a detached curiosity.

Gargeal's body moved on instinct. 

With a roar, he leapt into the air, his greatsword raised high. He brought it down in a clean, deadly arc. 

"Hrmph!"

The creature's head was severed in an instant, the cut so swift that its body didn't register the decapitation before collapsing to the ground in a heap. 

The boy stumbled backward, staring wide-eyed at the headless body.

"A—ah!"

Gargeal landed gracefully, immediately pivoting on his heel. 

He swung his greatsword in a wide, circular arc, rotating his entire body with the motion. 

The air whistled as the blade cut through it, slicing through the necks and torsos of the creatures that had been running toward them. 

Heads flew, and blood sprayed in a gruesome, crimson fountain. 

The twisted abominations crumpled lifelessly to the ground, their puppet strings cut.

The boy's lips quivered as he stared up at Gargeal. 

"Tha—thank you... mi—mister Gargeal."

Gargeal's voice was gruff but surprisingly gentle. 

"Don't thank me yet, kid." 

He sheathed his blood-soaked sword on his back for a moment, looking around. 

"We need to move. Let's get to the other side of the village. This area seems isolated from the rest. If I'm right, only this part has been compromised because I was here earlier. Go on, run ahead. I'll be right behind you."

The boy nodded, his face pale but determined. 

"Ye—yes!"

He turned and sprinted away, his small legs carrying him as fast as they could. 

Gargeal watched him for a moment, his expression darkening.

He followed closely, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. 

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling feet filled the air. 

The creatures had noticed them running, their hollow eyes locking onto the boy. 

Dozens of them, then a hundred, all turned in unison, their heads snapping toward the pair. 

Without warning, they broke into a sprint, their lifeless bodies moving with a disturbing, unnatural speed.

Gargeal came to a halt and planted his feet firmly on the ground. 

"Go on!" he shouted to the boy, who was glancing back with a horrified expression. 

"Keep running! Don't look back! Go!"

The boy's voice broke, tears welling up in his eyes.

"But, mister Gargeal, they'll—" 

Gargeal roared, his voice echoing like thunder. 

"Tell the others about this! Don't look back! Go! Run as fast as you can!" 

The boy hesitated for a split second, then turned and sprinted off, his sobs fading into the night.

Gargeal took a deep breath, his face a mask of cold fury. 

He glared at the horde closing in on him, their gnashing teeth and lifeless eyes hungry for flesh. 

He gripped his greatsword tightly, feeling the weight of it in his hands. 

He could almost hear Zach's voice in his head, from their countless battles together. 

"When we're surrounded, Gargeal, use your strength to break through. You're our unstoppable force."

"Evelori," he murmured under his breath, his eyes narrowing. 

"I swear, when I find you, I'll make sure you suffer the most gruesome death imaginable." 

His voice was a growl, filled with an intense, burning hatred.

The first wave of creatures lunged at him, their arms outstretched, ready to tear him apart. 

Gargeal smirked. 

He rotated his entire body with a single powerful spin, the greatsword following his movement in a wide, devastating arc. 

The blade sliced through their bodies effortlessly, splitting them in half. 

Blood sprayed into the air, a crimson mist that painted the ground. 

Limbs and torsos were flung aside like discarded ragdolls.

But Gargeal didn't stop. 

He kept spinning, using his momentum to carve through the horde. 

His sword was a blur, moving with such speed and precision that it was almost impossible to track. 

The creatures didn't even have time to react; they were cut down in an instant, their bodies collapsing in piles around him.

One after another—

They lunged at him—

But it was no use. 

He was a whirlwind of death, a force of nature that couldn't be stopped. 

"ARGHHHHH! DIE!"

His muscles bulged with every swing, his eyes burning with a fierce, unyielding determination.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

He roared with each strike, his voice a primal sound that seemed to shake the very ground beneath his feet.

"ALL OF YOU WILL DIE HERE, TONIGHT!"

The few creatures that had managed to survive his initial onslaught stumbled back, their lifeless eyes flickering with the faintest hint of fear. 

Gargeal glared at them, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his greatsword. 

He pointed the tip of his blade at them, a silent challenge.

"Come on," he growled. 

"You want to eat flesh? Come taste mine, if you dare."

The creatures hesitated for a split second before rushing him in a final, desperate attempt. 

Gargeal smirked and lunged forward, his sword cutting through them like a hot knife through butter. 

He hacked and slashed with wild abandon, his strikes precise and deadly. 

Heads rolled, limbs were severed, and blood pooled at his feet.

He finished off the last of them with a powerful overhead swing, splitting the creature's skull in two. 

It fell to the ground, twitching for a moment before going still. 

Gargeal took a step back, breathing heavily, surveying the carnage around him. 

The once-empty edge of the village was now littered with the bodies of the lifeless creatures, a testament to his unstoppable strength.

He looked over his shoulder and saw the boy standing at a distance, his eyes wide with shock and awe. 

Gargeal gave him a nod. 

"I told you I'd be right behind you, kid. Now, let's get back to the main village and secure the rest."

The boy wiped his tears and managed a shaky smile. 

"You—you're more of a monster than these, mister Gargeal."

He took a deep breath and nodded, running towards Gargeal, who ruffled his hair roughly. 

"Stick close," Gargeal said, his voice softer but still carrying a steely edge. 

"We're not out of this yet. We still need to inform the village about this."

Together—

They started making their way towards the heart of the village— 

Leaving behind the gruesome scene of Gargeal's one-man massacre. 

═════ ◆ TO BE CONTINUED ◆ ═════