"What—?"
Then he saw him.
The boy from before. The merchant's nephew.
Standing just a few paces behind, half-hidden behind a jagged outcrop, clutching a wooden scroll frame still glowing with fractured script. His fingers trembled, knuckles white around the frame. Eyes wide with panic. But he didn't run.
"You?" Kael muttered.
"Go!" the boy hissed. His voice barely carried. "He's still—!"
Kael didn't wait.
He lunged, slamming his knee into the stunned archer's gut. The man folded with a choked grunt. Kael spun, drove an elbow into the back of the bandit's neck. The crunch was sickening. The body dropped like a sack of wet grain.
Kael turned, heart still hammering.
The boy was still there, frozen.
"You climbed after me?" Kael asked, stunned.
The boy nodded once, eyes flitting downward. "Sorry, I—I just thought..." His voice barely more than a whisper. "I didn't mean to get in the way."
Kael tilted his head, blinking. Then he laughed softly—relieved, almost.
"Sorry for what? You just saved my life."
The boy flinched at the words, gaze dropping to the scroll in his hands like it might hide him. "I couldn't stop him. I tried, but…"
Kael stepped closer, gentler now. "Hey. You did more than most would've."
He smiled, genuine.
"I'm Kael."
"…Elyas," the boy mumbled.
Kael nodded. "Nice to meet you, Elyas."
Then he looked up the ridgeline. Four more figures. Shadows against the pale sky, each spaced out—still watching, still aiming, unaware their comrades had already fallen.
"There are more," Elyas murmured.
Kael's smile faded.
"Good," he whispered. His tone shifted. Cold. Focused. "One by one, then."
He stalked toward the next archer, boots crunching against loose stone. The wind cut across the ridge, sharp with the scent of blood. His breaths came calmer now. Measured. Like he'd found something steady in the chaos.
He ducked behind a boulder, waited.
The archer drew another arrow.
Kael charged.
The second archer turned too late. A fist to the jaw. A sweep of the leg. He collapsed without a sound.
Elyas stood back, still clutching the scroll like a lifeline, his eyes darting between Kael and the fallen men. His chest rose and fell too fast. His breath shallow. He looked like he might be sick.
Kael jogged back, wiping blood from his knuckles.
A figure emerged from the rocks again attacking Kael, who made swift work of him this time.
"That barrier thing," he asked between breaths, "what was it?"
Elyas blinked, still dazed. "A rune. A warding circle. Temporary." He swallowed. "It's not supposed to work mid-battle…"
Kael smirked. "Worked fine to me."
They approached the next archer.
Kael struck fast—only this time, something changed. The bandit emerged from one of the rocks as usual and rushed not at Kael, but at Elyas.
The boy froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came. The scroll slipped an inch in his arms.
Kael's heart skipped.
"Move!" he shouted, sprinting.
But Elyas didn't move.
Kael dropped low, picked up a stone.
Then—thwack.
A stone—thrown blind and desperate—slammed into the attacker's shoulder from back, knocking him off balance.
Kael reached them in a blink, grabbed the bandit by the collar, and drove his fist into the man's temple. The body crumpled against the stone, blood pooling beneath.
Kael turned to Elyas—now curled on the ground, arms around his knees, eyes wide and glassy.
"Hey," Kael said, crouching. "You're okay. Look at me."
Elyas didn't respond.
Kael gently shook his shoulder. "Hey."
The boy flinched.
"I—I'm fine," Elyas mumbled, voice shaky. "I just—he was—"
Kael's voice softened. "That makes us even."
He paused.
"And hey. You're okay. I'm here."
Slowly, Elyas's breaths steadied.
Kael stood and offered a hand. Elyas hesitated before taking it, his grip cold and damp.
"Three more to go," Kael muttered.
They moved as one now—Kael always ahead, Elyas trailing like a nervous shadow, eyes wide, flinching at every movement.
Kael took the last two archers down quickly. Each one reacted the same—like machines following a fading command. None shouted. None fled. They simply… fired.
Their reinforcements came the same way—crawling from the rocks like insects. But Kael was prepared, dealing with them swiftly.
"Something's off," Kael muttered, standing over the last body. "They didn't react. Didn't even try to warn the others."
Elyas knelt beside him, hesitantly touching the archer's face. The skin was cold.
"They weren't behaving like people," he said quietly. "Like puppets. Like they didn't care if they died."
Kael nodded. "Yeah. But they're not puppets."
He turned. Looked toward the second ridge.
A lone figure stood there. Watching. Then lifted a hand, waving once.
"Seems someone else took out the rest," Kael muttered.
"The man who was shot," Elyas whispered. "He climbed the other mountain."
"Ling?" Kael asked.
Elyas nodded.
But Kael didn't relax. A weight still pressed against his chest.
"Elyas," he said, frowning. "Did you notice something?"
The boy looked up slowly. "The way they were focused. Like they weren't trying to win. Just… stall us or something."
Kael's stomach sank.
He turned, scrambled up a nearby rock, and looked down at the caravan.
The fight was almost finished, most of the bandits dead, but the group was separated.
Kael's voice dropped.
"…Oh no."