A New Mission Begins

Roki and his scouting team moved swiftly through the dense, jungle-like terrain, their steps careful but steady. The discovery of the water source and the ancient temple weighed heavily on their minds, but they pushed forward, navigating the thick vegetation that surrounded them. Towering trees loomed overhead, their interwoven canopies blocking out much of the light, while distant, unfamiliar animal calls echoed through the undergrowth.

Only when they reached the narrow mountain passage did the jungle's grip finally loosen. Unlike the rough, jagged formations around it, this passage was eerily smooth, its walls bearing no signs of natural erosion. It didn't look worn down by time but rather carved with precision, as if something—or someone—had cut through the rock with intent. The unnatural nature of the passage was unsettling, but they didn't stop to question it. Beyond it lay an open valley.

Here, the terrain was starkly different—sparse, with only a few scattered trees and little cover, making movement far more exposed than in the forest beyond.

As they emerged from the pass, their camp came into view, nestled near the valley's center. Reinforcements had clearly been made in their absence—barricades were set up not only at the passage itself but also at the valley's entrance, securing both potential points of entry. The structures were improvised but effective, built from whatever materials the soldiers could scavenge and reinforced with large stones and sharpened wooden stakes.

The moment they stepped past the perimeter, Lazar was the first to meet them.

"You found something?" His voice was measured, but his sharp gaze was already reading them.

Roki nodded, stepping forward. "Clean water source about two hours from here. No hostiles in sight. But there's more—an old structure. A temple, carved into the mountainside, buried under vines and moss. We didn't enter, but the carvings on the walls… they weren't like anything I've ever seen."

Lazar exhaled, then turned back. "Bogi and Oliver need to hear this. Come."

The camp had become more structured since they first arrived—Oliver and Bogi had made sure of that. In a cleared-out area near the center, the two commanders stood over a roughly drawn map in the dirt—an outline of their valley, with notes marking supply caches and possible threats. Nearby, Michael and Ogar discussed defensive positioning.

As Roki and his team entered, Bogi and Oliver turned their attention to them.

"Report," Bogi ordered, his sharp green-brown eyes locking onto Roki.

Roki relayed everything, from the terrain and water supply to the temple's presence. When he finished, Oliver crossed his arms, his blue eyes thoughtful. "A temple hidden in the jungle, untouched for who knows how long. This world keeps getting more interesting."

Bogi, however, focused on the essentials. "Water is the priority. We'll set up a regular supply run. As for the temple… we leave it alone for now. We don't have the manpower to explore something we don't understand."

Oliver nodded. "Agreed. Survival comes first."

Bogi turned to him. "We need to be smart about how we move. We can't send too many, but we need enough men to protect the supply team in case something unexpected happens."

Oliver was already thinking the same. "Roki and his team go—they know the way. Rashid goes too; he's good in unknown terrain. You and I should be there as well. Two more should go with us. Weapons and ammo are limited, and we can't afford unnecessary risks."

Bogi nodded. "Luke and Peter are already part of Roki's team, so that leaves us with two more to pick. Olek and Gregor will come with us. Olek has the heavy weaponry in case things go south, and Gregor's demolition skills could come in handy if we need to clear a path."

Oliver folded his arms. "That means Michael and Ogar hold the camp. You trust them to keep things under control?"

Bogi gave him a sharp look. "They'll handle it. But we make sure they have a proper plan."

Before heading out, Bogi and Oliver gathered Michael and Ogar.

"While we're gone, camp security is your responsibility," Bogi said, addressing both men. "We need a tighter perimeter. Divide the personnel—one team for sentry duty, one for reinforcing defenses, and one on standby for immediate response."

Michael nodded. "I'll set up shifts. We'll always have at least four on watch, rotating every four hours. No one sleeps without a weapon close."

Ogar, who had already evaluated the valley's weak points, spoke next. "We should reinforce the barricades at the pass and the valley entrance. Those are our only real choke points."

Oliver agreed. "And traps. If something—or someone—gets too close, I want them regretting it."

Bogi pointed to the passage entrance. "You and Michael decide where to place them. Just make sure we can reset them easily if needed."

Michael smirked slightly. "We'll make it work."

Then Bogi added, "One more thing—our desert uniforms make us stand out in all this green. We need to fix that. Find a way to dye the fabric to match the terrain. The last thing we need is to be spotted from a mile away."

Michael exhaled slowly. He hadn't thought much about their appearance in this new environment, but Bogi was right. Their tan and sand-colored uniforms were practically a beacon in the open valley. Survival wasn't just about weapons—it was about adaptation.

"We'll extract pigments from the plants," Ogar said, already considering the best way to get it done. "There's bound to be something usable in all this growth, even with limited vegetation."

Michael ran a hand over the fabric of his sleeve, considering the task ahead. "If we can get a consistent dye, we'll need to soak the fabric and let it set. Won't be instant, but it's better than running around like a target."

Dyeing uniforms wasn't the kind of work he'd imagined himself doing in a war zone, but right now, it was just as important as fortifying defenses. Every detail mattered. A single mistake—being seen too soon, not securing a blind spot—could cost them everything.

Ogar, for his part, felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He was a soldier, not a craftsman. But orders were orders, and Bogi didn't give them lightly. He had already assessed the best available plants for extraction and knew exactly how to organize the men to get the process moving. Time was short, and he wouldn't waste it.

"Fine," Ogar grunted. "We'll make it work. But don't expect us to be pretty about it."

Bogi gave them both a firm nod. "Then get started. We leave in ten."

As he turned back to Oliver, the two commanders exchanged a glance—silent understanding passing between them.

The camp moved like a well-oiled machine. The moment Bogi and Oliver gave the order, their chosen squad assembled swiftly, checking weapons, rations, and equipment with the practiced efficiency of seasoned soldiers. Bogi, Oliver, Roki, Luke, Peter, Rashid, Olek, and Gregor set out, leaving Michael and Ogar in charge of the camp's defenses.

They slipped through the valley pass into the dense, untamed wilderness beyond. The journey was quiet, but not in the way the wastelands they once knew had been. This wasn't the silence of death—this was the silence of life, breathing and pulsing in a way none of them had experienced in over a decade.

Bogi walked with steady purpose, his sharp gaze flickering between the towering trees, taking in the sheer vibrancy of the world around them. Lush greenery stretched endlessly, dappled sunlight breaking through the thick canopy above. The air was humid, rich with the scent of damp earth, blooming flowers, and something else—something wild. The distant calls of unseen creatures echoed through the jungle, rustling the leaves, making the world feel alive in ways that were almost foreign.

Beside him, Oliver moved with the same calculated ease, his blue eyes sharp but drawn to the sights around them. He didn't speak, but Bogi knew—this world unsettled him just as much as it amazed him.

"It's been years since I've seen this much green," Bogi muttered.

"More than ten." Oliver exhaled, glancing around, his voice quieter. "Almost forgot what it looked like."

Bogi didn't respond, but there was an understanding between them. This world wasn't their home, but it was still beautiful. And that made survival both harder and more important.

The thick jungle finally gave way to a small opening nestled between the trees. A thin, cold stream trickled through the clearing, its water crystal clear as it wove over smooth stones and patches of damp earth. The air here was colder, the temperature shift subtle but noticeable.

The squad moved cautiously into the clearing, spreading out as planned. Then Rashid stopped.

He had been scanning the ground, his eyes sharp as ever, and suddenly—he froze.

Bogi and Oliver moved toward him in an instant. He didn't have to speak. The track in the damp earth spoke for itself.

It was feline—four-pronged, padded, but wrong.

Larger than a panther's. Much larger.

The depth of the imprint showed weight—a beast built of raw muscle and power. The claw marks dug deep, more pronounced than any animal they had encountered before. But the edges of the print were still crisp. Undisturbed by time.

Rashid's voice was low. "A few hours, at most."

The words settled over them like a weight.

The jungle, which had felt so alive, now felt different. Thicker. Heavier. The soft bubbling of the stream seemed too quiet, too distant. The warmth of the sun filtering through the canopy no longer felt welcoming, but suffocating. Every rustling leaf, every creak of shifting branches made their skin prickle.