Tension

The jungle morning dawned heavy with humidity, dew clinging to every leaf and vine. Around the dying embers of the campfire, the five survivors completed their scant breakfast—thin slices of the prowler meat charred over the new pot—while preparing for another day in the brutal wilderness.

Kurai stood at the edge of camp, examining two crude spears. The first was his original creation: a splintered wooden shaft bound to a stone tip by fraying strands of vine. Over the last day's hunts, it had come perilously close to snapping in two. The second was still a work-in-progress, fashioned from a tougher length of wood and reinforced in places with bits of chitin. The improvised spearhead, also chitin, was rough but far sturdier than simple rock, sharper as well.

Nearby, Theo knelt by the fire, stirring the coals with a stick. His eyes flicked up at Kurai's activity. "That new spear looking any better?" he asked, genuine interest mingling with a hint of awe.

Kurai grunted an acknowledgment, flexing the spear's pole in his hands. "It'll do for now. If the binding holds." He shot a meaningful look at the extra strips of vine Theo had collected. "Thanks."

Theo managed a half-smile. "Happy to help. You can't fight on an empty stomach—or with broken gear." He rose, brushing ash from his pants. "But you're… heading out again, right?"

Kurai nodded curtly. "Points won't earn themselves." He wrapped a bit of cloth around the new spear's handle for better grip, then attached the older, half-broken spear to a makeshift belt at his waist. His gaze slid to the rest of the group. Mira sat on a fallen log, draining the last of the boiled water from a small cup fashioned out of folded leaves; Elias stood quietly against a tree, arms folded as if deep in thought; Jace paced in short, agitated strides, gripping his own stone-tipped spear.

"Why not let us come, at least one of us?" Jace demanded, stopping in front of Kurai. Annoyance flared in his voice. "We need points too. We can help you kill something—and that helps the entire group."

Kurai's expression remained unreadable. He understood Jace's eagerness—or maybe it was resentment. But he also had no intention of shepherding novices in a lethal jungle. "I can't protect anyone out there," he said, voice calm but firm. "If you come, you'd have to protect yourself, and I doubt any of you are ready for that kind of fight. Not yet."

Jace's jaw clenched. "We're not totally helpless, you know."

"Maybe not," Kurai allowed. "But I won't slow down. And I won't be responsible if something goes wrong."

An uneasy hush fell. Mira set aside her makeshift cup, exchanging a glance with Theo. She spoke gently, as if trying to smooth over tensions. "We barely survived those… humanoid things. And the prowlers we saw when we first came here, are no joke either."

Elias, standing off to the side, gave a small nod of acknowledgment. "We all know how dangerous they are. Without Kurai's skill, we'd have lost more than a limb."

Jace bristled, but said nothing more. It was evident the memory of that savage encounter still haunted him. The idea of hunting another creature—prowler or chitin-clad monster—stirred both fear and reluctant acceptance. They did need points. But not all of them had Kurai's training or his ruthless efficiency.

For a moment, silence reigned. The jungle's morning chorus provided a tense soundtrack: buzzing insects, distant birdcalls, something thrashing in the undergrowth far away. Finally, Kurai turned to the group at large. "You've all got spears," he said, gesturing to their stone-tipped weapons. "If you're confident you can handle one of those humanoid creatures, go in pairs. But it's on you." His tone was as blunt as a blade's edge.

He saw their faces pale. Even Jace seemed to quell at the memory of those twisted beasts—the sunken eyes, the vertical slits for mouths, the chitinous plates that turned aside weaker blows. None of them spoke up to volunteer. After a beat, Jace exhaled and looked away.

They know their limits. Whatever bitterness Jace felt would likely keep brewing, but at least he wouldn't drag them into a suicidal hunt. Not yet, anyway.

"We'll fortify the camp," Elias said eventually, catching Kurai's subtle cue. His voice was steady, a soldier accepting orders. "Maybe gather more wood, set up some basic defenses around the perimeter. That way, if something does wander too close, we have a chance." He paused, glancing toward Theo. "If you or Mira can rig more of that chitin into barriers or spikes, it could help."

Theo nodded, already mentally listing the supplies they had. "Sure, I'll do what I can. And keep the fire going so the smoke might keep smaller things at bay."

Mira made a weak smile. "I'll help. No point in me wandering around the jungle—I'm no hunter."

Kurai gave a single dip of his chin. That was enough. They had a plan, or something akin to it. He hoisted his newly-crafted spear, slid the second across his belt, and took a few steps away from the campfire's clearing.

"Stay alive," he said tersely, by way of farewell. "I'll be back with something—if luck holds."

Jace opened his mouth as though to say something else—perhaps a final protest—but Elias laid a hand on his shoulder, a silent bid for peace. Jace pressed his lips together, nodded grudgingly, and refocused his gaze on the flickering flames.

Kurai turned his back on them, letting the curtain of vines swallow his form. The dense greenery enfolded him quickly, the sounds of the camp fading behind him. Despite the group's collective relief at his help, he could still feel Jace's frustration nipping at his heels—a tension that might yet become a storm. But for now, it was manageable. He doesn't hide his emotions at least.

As he pressed deeper into the jungle, Kurai focused on every rustle, every shift of light through the canopy. He'd come to understand that success here demanded relentless caution—and cunning. With the older spear strapped to his belt, he had some backup if the new chitin spear failed him, but he prayed it wouldn't come to that. Each kill would net him a little closer to affording that Aether Manual, the key he so desperately wanted.

Yet, the hunt itself remained dangerous. One misstep, and the jungle would claim him. No matter, he thought, pushing aside the prickle of unease. 

He slid beneath a low-hanging vine, footprints soft in the loam. Behind him, the soft crackle of the campfire was already distant. Ahead, the unknown stretched—an endless tangle of leaves, shadows, and lurking threats. Kurai's heart pulsed, the faint hum of aether urging him onward.