The next morning, that fragile peace was shattered.

  “MONSTERS!” The cry rang out, and I knew what it meant before my mind could even catch up. It was happening again—an attack. An ambush, but there was something different in the way the caravan had reacted. Panic spread like wildfire. The tension crackled in the air, thick and undeniable. I didn’t need to look around to know that I was expected to act, but before I could even think, a whirlwind of motion erupted in front of me.

  Ten.

  She was already in motion, her silhouette blurring with incredible speed. Her body was a streak, a blur against the morning light, each stride propelling her forward with such force that it looked like she was barely touching the ground. Her feet—bare, as always—barely seemed to make contact before she was launching herself again, moving impossibly fast.

  I watched in awe and horror as she leaped, a distance so great that for a moment, I thought she might disappear into the horizon. But no, she was there—right in front of one of the towering ogres that had charged at us. The sheer mass of the creature was staggering, its hulking frame looming above her, a grotesque collection of muscle and sinew. But Ten… she was something else entirely.

  With a grunt, she slammed her foot directly into the ogre’s midsection, pressing her weight into it like a sledgehammer striking a stone. There was a sickening crunch as the impact ruptured the ogre’s stomach, and Ten’s foot dug into the void of its hollow torso. The ogre’s body convulsed, but Ten didn’t stop. She bounced off the empty space, springing back with the force of a coiled spring. Her body twirled mid-air, agile as a predator.

  Her foot collided with another ogre, the sound of breaking bones echoing through the air as its head was torn clean off, severed with a brutal twist of her strength. The headless body crumpled to the ground, its remaining limbs flailing uselessly as the life drained from it.

  I stood frozen. I couldn’t process it, couldn’t understand what I was seeing. It wasn’t just a battle—it was destruction on a scale I hadn’t witnessed before. Ten wasn’t just fighting. She was annihilating, cutting through the ogres like a scythe through wheat. Her movements were fluid, calculated, each one designed to maximize damage, leaving no room for the enemy to retaliate.

  The remaining ogres tried to regroup, but they were already too slow. Ten leapt again, this time higher, and landed squarely on the chest of another ogre, her foot driven into its sternum with enough force to split its ribs like kindling. The ogre bellowed in pain, but Ten didn’t hesitate. With a single swift motion, she whipped her leg out, sending the creature crashing into a nearby tree with such force that the trunk snapped in half, splitting the wood with a deafening crack.

  And then—another leap.

  She bounded over the final ogre, landing behind it with a terrifying grace. Without missing a beat, she slammed her heel into the back of its skull, the impact sending a shockwave through its entire body as its spine crumpled under the force. The ogre crumpled to the ground, its body a lifeless heap.

  The battlefield was eerily silent now. All that remained were the fallen bodies of the ogres, torn apart by Ten’s savage display of strength and agility. Trees had been uprooted, their trunks twisted and broken, their branches hanging like twisted limbs in the aftermath of the carnage.

  For a long moment, I stood there, unable to move, unable to speak. The power in Ten’s movements was overwhelming, and in that moment, I realized just how much she had been holding back—just how much she was capable of. She wasn’t just a warrior. She was a force of nature.

  I glanced over at Cordelia and V, both of them watching the aftermath with something approaching awe. Cordelia’s eyes were narrowed, calculating, while V—ever the unflappable one—simply exhaled sharply, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

  “Well, that was… something,” V muttered, wiping his brow.

  I turned back to Ten, who stood in the center of the destruction, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She was covered in blood, the remnants of the ogres and the carnage she’d wrought. But there was no triumph in her stance, no sense of satisfaction in her eyes. She looked… detached, almost as though she were waiting for something. Perhaps it was for the world around her to catch up with what had just happened.

  “Good work, Ten,” I finally managed, my voice hoarse, the words thick with both awe and uncertainty.

  She didn’t reply, and I didn’t expect her to. Her actions had spoken louder than any words could. She was a silent storm, and now that storm had passed, leaving only the scattered remnants of our enemies and the destroyed landscape in her wake.

  Ten acted without thinking, her instincts driving her forward in a brutal yet efficient display of power. It was terrifying how effortlessly she dismantled the ogres, how fluidly she moved through the chaos, turning it into something almost... beautiful. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy, but it wasn’t the kind of envy that stemmed from her strength or her ability to fight. No, it was something deeper. It was envy for the ease with which she could act without hesitation, without fear. She was untethered by doubt or remorse, and that made her dangerous.

  Yet, even that wasn’t the part that I envied. What I envied was her ability to just be—to exist without questioning what to do, without the crushing weight of responsibility or the fear of losing control. There was a simplicity in that, something that I could never have.

  What disturbed me more than the fear that others had of her—fear of her power, her speed, her violence—was the way they reacted to her presence. The caravan members, the people who had been traveling with us for a day, suddenly became jittery, wary of her every move. The shift in their demeanor was subtle at first, but it was undeniable. I could feel it. It wasn’t just fear of her actions, but fear of what she represented. They saw her as a weapon, as something untamed, and that unsettled them.

  The worst part? I realized I was no better than them. The moment someone showed hostility toward Ten, I could feel a shift in myself. My hand instinctively moved to where my weapon would be. I had to stop that thought before it even fully formed. I was not going to be that person. I was not going to become like the monsters I hunted.

  Just because I fought monsters, just because I fought Others, didn’t mean I had the right to prey on the weak. And yet, the temptation was there, lurking in the back of my mind, whispering that it would be so easy—so easy to turn that instinct into something more. It was a battle I’d never thought I’d face. To keep my humanity in a world that seemed to strip it away, piece by piece.

  I couldn’t allow myself to fall into that. I couldn’t let the violence I fought against consume me, no matter how close it might feel at times.

  Ten was a weapon, a tool, but she was also a person—a person who had been broken and reforged into something else. And if I didn’t start seeing that, if I didn’t start seeing her as more than just an asset, then I was no better than the monsters I sought to destroy.

  “Let’s keep moving,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen over us. My voice sounded almost too steady, too calm, but I couldn’t afford to falter. Not now. Not with the team watching.

  I turned away from Ten and looked to the rest of the caravan, pushing down the storm of thoughts threatening to rise within me.

  “Onward,” I added, more firmly this time. "We have a duty to finish."

  ***

  That night, a heavy silence settled over the camp. It was unsettling. The kind of stillness that put you on edge, that made every rustle of the wind, every shift in the shadows, feel like a warning. There were no birds singing their late-night songs, no small creatures skittering through the underbrush. Not a single leaf rustled in the breeze. It was as if the world had gone still, waiting, holding its breath.

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  I knew what that meant.

  One of three things.

  First, we were being ambushed by bandits, a group that had cleared out all the wildlife, possibly setting traps and preparing for an attack. Second, we were about to face down some resident monsters—something familiar enough that I could be ready for it, preferable in some ways, if I were to be honest. Or third… the most dangerous possibility, the one that sent a cold chill through my spine: Others.

  Those damnable creatures from another realm, things that didn’t belong in this world. They could feel like nothing, a whisper on the wind, or they could tear through everything with a rage that left nothing in their wake.

  I glanced over at Ten. She was asleep, curled up under a thin blanket. Her chest rose and fell with the slow, steady rhythm of someone who had earned their rest. She was still adjusting, still trying to make sense of the world around her, but she had done her part earlier that day. Her strength was a thing of raw power, and the last thing I wanted was to disturb her. She needed this sleep, deserved it more than anyone.

  That left the rest of us.

  “Cordelia, scout the west. V, the east. I’ll take the south. Let Ten sleep. She earned it.”

  V didn’t need to be told twice. He gave a small nod, a fleeting smile on his lips, before setting off to his post, as always, ready for whatever we’d face.

  Cordelia, ever the diligent one, paused. Her gaze met mine, sharp, calculating. “Should I use telepathy if I find anything?” Her voice was low, controlled, as though she’d already worked through the possibilities in her mind.

  “No,” I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the anxiety that clawed at my chest. “Use the Gloss. If one of us doesn’t respond within twenty seconds at this distance, it means the crystal comms were intercepted. If that happens… we’re not dealing with monsters or bandits. We’re dealing with Others.”

  She nodded, her eyes narrowing in acknowledgment. A brief, unspoken understanding passed between us. She turned, her figure melting into the shadows as she moved west, her presence fading like a wisp of smoke.

  I, too, turned away from the campfire and moved toward the south, my footsteps light on the damp earth. The trees loomed like silent sentinels around me, the darkness pressing in from every side. I had to stay sharp. The silence didn’t feel like a blessing anymore. It felt like a warning. A trap, waiting to spring.

  Every few moments, I checked my Gloss, verifying the comms were still active. No messages. No strange signals. Everything seemed normal, for now. But that didn’t mean I could relax. I knew better than that.

  The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last. Then, the unmistakable sound of something snapping underfoot. A twig. A light shuffle. My heart rate spiked. I knew that sound. And yet… there was nothing.

  I gripped my bow tighter, the familiar weight of it a comfort in my hand. Then, in the distance, I saw movement. A figure—small, almost imperceptible—slipping through the trees, barely visible but enough to make my instincts flare to life.

  Before I could react, my Gloss buzzed.

  “Cordelia?” I whispered into the comms, voice barely above a breath.

  No response.

  I waited. Ten seconds passed. Fifteen.

  Nothing.

  I knew then. We weren’t dealing with bandits. Or monsters. The Others had arrived.

  And we were their prey.

  ***

  I was flanked by two humanoid creatures. Their skin resembled marbled stone, shifting with veins of gray and white that made their forms seem almost sculpted, their features sharp and unyielding. Their eyes, large and segmented like those of an insect, glistened with a cold intelligence, and everything about them screamed alien. Their daggers gleamed in the dim light, wickedly curved, and held in a steady grip, pointing straight at me. This could not get worse.

  I didn’t have time to think. The instinct to act kicked in. Without hesitation, I placed my hand on the ground, drawing on the mana that had become second nature to me. My first active skill… It wasn’t what I expected. I had been warned it would be different, but nothing could have prepared me for this. The earth shifted beneath me as a deep pit materialized in front of the stone-skinned man. From its depths, countless mouths—snapping, biting, gnashing—appeared, each one trying to pull the man down into the abyss. The creature screamed as it fell into the pit, the mouths eagerly sinking into its flesh. The pit swelled, hungry, relentless.

  But the other creature, the one that had stayed out of range, was no fool. With a swift leap, it avoided the trap, landing on solid ground a few feet away, its eyes fixed on me with deadly intent.

  The sensation of my skill, the mouths tearing into the stone-skinned man, was unnerving. I could feel every bite, every shred of flesh being torn away. I tasted it, not physically, but mentally—like a phantom sensation, the horror of what I was causing. The feeling settled deep in my chest, and I tried to ignore it. I had to focus. The fight wasn’t over yet.

  The creature that had avoided the pit lunged toward me with terrifying speed. It was too close, and there was no time to grab another arrow or prepare my bow. I dropped it to the ground with a quick flick of my wrist, the bow hitting the dirt with a soft thud. The creature’s dagger was thrusting toward me, aimed directly for my chest. The archer I had trained to be wasn’t useful in this situation—this was pure melee, and I was still too far from my own skill set.

  Instinctively, I raised my hands, grasping the Marbled other’s thrust towards me. I staggered back from the force of its weight. barely avoiding the full impact of the strike. But I didn’t have time to recover. I fumbled through my pack, pulling out the blank book I always kept with me. A deep breath, a flick of my wrist, and I called on my power.

  I began shaping paper. Thousands of thoughts rushed through my mind as I focused on each delicate fold. The pages of the book blurred as they turned into small, deadly paper bees—each one a sharp, swift weapon. I could feel the drain on my mana as I burned through sheet after sheet of paper. Each bee cost one third of a full page. Nine pages—twenty-seven bees. They were ready. I sent them forward, a swarm of sharp, paper rapiers cutting through the air toward the creature.

  It was fast, too fast, and it slashed at the swarm with its dagger. The creature was able to sever several bees before they could strike. They fell, crumpled paper torn in mid-flight, but the rest of the swarm managed to reach their target. Bees pierced into the creature’s stone-like skin, each sting drawing blood, each one delivering a sharp blow. The creature howled, swiping frantically to knock the remaining bees away.

  I wasn’t finished. I sent more bees, relentless, while I moved back, pulling another sheet from my book to replenish the swarm. The bees continued to sting, dodging and weaving around the creature’s powerful strikes, attacking from every angle. Its body was covered in wounds now, paper sticking from its arms, its face, its legs. The creature stumbled, its movements slower, more erratic.

  It took a desperate leap toward me, and I knew it was now or never. I couldn’t keep this up much longer. The bees were tiring, my mana reserves were dwindling, and my arms were aching from the strain. But I wasn’t going to let this monster take me down.

  I dropped my book to the ground and pulled the final sheet of paper, shaping it into a massive paper blade—larger than anything I’d ever created before. The blade felt almost alive, vibrating with the force of my will. I stepped forward, throwing my entire weight into the strike. The paper blade cut through the air like a guillotine, and with a final, desperate thrust, I drove it deep into the creature’s side. The paper sliced through its skin with ease, cutting deep into its chest, and with one last, painful cry, the creature collapsed to the ground.

  I stood over it, panting heavily. My arms were shaking, my book nearly empty. The battlefield was quiet now, save for the sound of my heavy breathing. It was done. The stone-skinned creature was dead, but the toll on me was far from over.

  I watched the body for a moment longer, my heart pounding in my chest. Every bite I had felt, every slice, every sting—it was all still with me. I felt the weight of it, but there was no time to linger.

  I could taste the man in the pit, the sensation sharp and unsettling. With one final, visceral crunch, the miasma of the creature poured into me, and along with it came a shard. My first shard. I could feel it—its power swirling inside me.

  And the taste? It was sweet. Incredibly sweet. It tasted like caramel blended with cream puffs, chocolate, and gumdrops, all layered together in a sugary rush. But beneath that sweetness, there was something darker. The same monstrosity that had birthed this shard clung to its taste, souring it like a bitter aftertaste. It was as terrible as it was delicious, a reminder of the twisted world I was now a part of.

  Ensuring that the Others were fully deceased, I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I gave a quick status report, ticking off the essentials in my mind, mentally cataloging everything I had just done. But as I took stock, my eyes fell on the pile of discarded paper—shredded, consumed, and burnt away in the heat of the battle.

  I scowled at the sight, feeling the weight of the cost. The paper was more than just a resource; it was an extension of my will, my power. I had used so much of it in such a short span of time, and each torn page felt like a wound in my own soul. The price of survival.

  Everything has a price, I reminded myself. And this time, I had paid too much. The realization stung, a harsh reminder of how quickly my resources could drain. Still, it was done. The battle was won, but I couldn’t afford to keep making the same mistakes. I needed to be more strategic, more mindful. The cost would always be there, and it would only grow as I moved forward.

  I looked down at the remnants of the battle, my fingers trembling slightly as I clenched the last shred of miasma from the fallen creature. But before I could steady myself, a shadow loomed in the distance, too large, too unnatural to ignore.

  Something else was coming. And this time, I wasn’t sure if paper would be enough.