Rest and Recovery

The battle was over.

The smell of blood and damp earth lingered in the cavern, mixing with the acrid scent of burnt lizardman flesh. The party stood in the aftermath, panting, wounded, and utterly drained.

But they had won.

Five severed lizardman heads lay in a pile near Tomas's feet.

Beren wiped a streak of blood off his arm and gave an exhausted chuckle. "One for each of us. How delightful."

Leila groaned as she pulled an arrow out of a corpse. "That was not delightful. That was horrible!."

Mira rolled her sore shoulder. "We need to leave before more of them show up."

They left the chamber, cautiously retracing their steps toward the dungeon's entrance.

Tomas groaned as he stretched his sore arms. "That chieftain almost turned us into lizard food."

Leila snorted. "It wasn't almost. We're lucky as hell that we made it out of there."

Beren rolled his shoulders, still sore. "We need better weapons."

Tomas grinned, patting his shield. "I don't know, I like the feeling of this shield smashing in to things."

Mira smirked. "You're class is actually a swordsman is it not?"

Tomas gave a dramatic sigh. "Yes, yes. I know. 'Tomas, stop hitting things with your shield and use your sword.'"

Leila grinned. "I mean, we're not wrong."

Mira chuckled. "We really aren't."

Tomas rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the grin tugging at his lips.

Arlan, walking behind the group, listened to their banter, feeling a strange warmth settle in his chest.

Even after everything—after Duskhaven, after almost dying, after barely scraping through this dungeon—they could still laugh.

And for now, that was enough.

The Guild – Reporting In

By the time they emerged from the dungeon, the afternoon sun was already starting to dip toward the horizon. The town was alive with noise—traders shouting their wares, blacksmiths hammering metal, and adventurers swapping stories.

The guild hall was as loud as ever.

The clerk at the front desks name was Ludwin

a man built like a retired adventurer, with a thick scar down his jawline and graying hair that still had streaks of black. His piercing blue eyes flicked over them as they approached.

"You look like you got dragged through the mud," Ludwin grunted. "That's a good sign."

Mira exhaled, rubbing her neck. "No. That was hell."

Ludwin raised an eyebrow as they dropped five lizardman heads onto the counter. "E-Rank missions aren't supposed to be easy."

Leila groaned. "You dont say."

Ludwin shrugged and tossed a pouch of silver coins onto the counter. "Take your pay. And while you're at it—" His expression darkened.

"You should know something."

The group stiffened.

Ludwin's voice dropped. "Another town got hit."

Arlan felt his breath hitch.

"Necromancers?" Mira asked quietly.

Ludwin nodded. "That's what people are saying." He glanced at the group for a fraction of a second before continuing. "The Order's moving fast. Paladins and inquisitors have been sweeping across settlements, searching for… signs."

The air felt heavy.

Arlan forced his face into careful neutrality.

Mira crossed her arms. "So what? They think they can just wipe out every person they suspect of necromancy?"

Ludwin leaned forward. "They aren't taking chances."

Tomas frowned. "What does that mean for us?"

Ludwin watched them carefully. "It means keep your heads down."

Silence.

Then, Leila clapped her hands together. "So anyway, drinks?"

Tomas groaned. "Yes, gods, yes."

Beren cracked his neck. "And food. I'm starving."

Mira exhaled. "Fine, but just for a bit. We need to start planning our next move."

Arlan nodded, still feeling Ludwin's warning settle like a weight in his gut.

This wasn't over.

And the Order was getting closer.