The flower bushes lining the red-bricked road rustled softly as the two ratmen darted through them, whiskers twitching as they sniffed the air. Everything was new—too new. Their instincts demanded exploration. One scampered ahead, circling a stone pillar before doubling back, while the other climbed onto a low wall, poking at a decorative carving with the blunt end of its spear.
"Smells rich," one muttered.
"Too clean," the other replied suspiciously.
Behind them, the round table convened.
Everyone present already understood why they were here.
This was not their first discussion. Warnings had been shared days ago through communication orbs—reports of movement, sightings, patterns that did not align with ordinary beast tides. But what gathered them now was something different. This was not about alerts or speculation.
This was about solutions.
Claymond sat calmly at the head of the table, hands folded atop one another, eyes hidden behind thin-lensed glasses. He radiated a quiet authority—not imposed, but accepted. To his right, Varen removed his boots from the edge of the table and planted them firmly on the ground, posture shifting from casual to attentive.
Lyra set her teacup down gently onto a coaster that Renn held out for her.
"Thank you," she said.
"My pleasure," Renn replied, stepping back with an easy smile.
Kairo sat beside Varen, posture straight, expression composed. There was a confidence to him—not arrogance, but intent. This was his first time sitting among them like this, and he knew it.
Varen leaned closer and whispered, "Relax. We're not that formal around here."
Kairo gave a faint smile in response.
Claymond cleared his throat.
"This is the official council," he said evenly. "We've already exchanged information. Today, we decide how we respond."
"Yeah," Varen said, pumping a fist lightly. "Let's get into it."
Lyra didn't acknowledge him. Her gaze remained steady as she turned toward Claymond. "So," she said, "what should we do?"
Kairo tilted his head slightly.
Now that he was sitting here, it was clear—Claymond held the highest authority in this room by default. Not because he demanded it, but because everyone deferred to him without question. Kairo didn't yet know why that was, but he knew this meeting was his opening. Not to dominate the room—but to anchor himself within it. To show that he belonged.
Claymond nodded once. "I'm sure we all know what we're dealing with," he said. Then his gaze shifted. "But just to be thorough—Kairo, would you like to recap?"
Kairo straightened. "Of course."
He spoke clearly, measured. "The beasts approaching the ruins—and those my territory encountered earlier—are called Shackled Hounds. Tier-three, wolf-like creatures. From what we've seen, they're among the more common entities in this tide."
That drew attention.
"Meaning," Kairo continued, "we should expect stronger monsters to follow."
The massive ork seated beside Varen leaned forward slightly and whispered, awed, "Ohhh… this is big."
Claymond nodded. "Wolf-type creatures are pack hunters. Seems like you were fortunate to encounter only one."
"Yes," Kairo agreed, "but that wasn't the most concerning part. We believe these beasts are being controlled—by something, or someone. The source is still unknown."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Which means they won't rely purely on instinct," she said coolly. "Unlike typical beast tides, these creatures are receiving orders."
"Exactly," Kairo replied. "That's the greatest threat."
Renn raised a hand slightly. "If I may—if that's the case, then simple retaliation won't be enough. We'll need to locate the source behind the beasts. Otherwise, even if we repel them, it won't end."
"Correct," Kairo said. "That would be our next objective—assuming we survive the initial tide."
Varen scoffed, grinning. "Hell yeah we'll survive. No doubt about that."
"That's easy to say," Lyra replied flatly. "We can't just charge in blindly."
The ork behind Varen scratched his head and spoke loudly. "Well, what's the big deal? We just hit the beasts harder than normal, yeah?"
Every gaze turned toward him.
Varen sighed. "Sorry. He's kind of a big-mouthed idiot."
Lyra muttered under her breath, "Looks like we have two of those now."
Claymond continued calmly, "Moving on. Each of us commands forces—heroes, elites, assets that can change the flow of a battle. Strength isn't our main issue. Direction is. We need a plan."
Kairo felt it then.
That subtle thing he had been noticing for a while now.
They understood each other.
Varen and Lyra argued like opposing blades—sharp, clashing—but never once did they lose sight of where the other stood. Claymond didn't need to interrupt; his silence alone guided the discussion, smoothing gaps before they fully formed. Even disagreements felt… rehearsed. Natural.
(They'd been doing this longer than him)
(Not just fighting) Kairo realized. (Leading together)
From where he sat, they looked like an enclosed fortress—solid, experienced, impenetrable. And he was standing outside its walls, trying to find a way in.
Shiri noticed the shift immediately. He stepped slightly closer, lowering his voice so only Kairo could hear.
"You don't need to force yourself," he murmured. "You don't need to blend in. Compete with them. Speak."
Kairo exhaled slowly.
A short distance away, the two ratmen had climbed a broken pillar near the edge of the courtyard. The gray one stood at the top, arms spread wide, enjoying the height. Below, the black-furred one hissed upward, telling him not to fall. The gray ratman ignored him completely.
Lyra spoke again, voice crisp and decisive. "From what we know, Kairo's western ruins are the primary target. In my opinion, we should deploy at least half our forces to reinforce his territory. The remaining half stays back—to guard our own lands in case of unexpected developments."
Varen nodded. "Makes sense. But coordinating that many troops?" He scratched the back of his head. "We've never mobilized forces on that scale before." He sighed theatrically. "If only we had a throne room or something."
Claymond's fingers slowly unfolded.
"And that," he said, "is the core issue."
No one disagreed.
"We can't effectively command that many troops across separate territories," Claymond continued. "So a direct, large-scale deployment isn't optimal. We need an alternative approach."
Varen leaned forward, palms slapping the table. "Then how about small squads? We send elite groups instead. Flexible, fast."
Lyra scoffed. "That won't guarantee victory. Not against a tide like this."
Kairo felt his chest tighten.
(If I stay quiet, I stagnate)
The thought struck hard.
(If I speak… I step forward)
Before he could second-guess himself, Kairo rose from his chair.
His hands slammed down onto the black stone table.
The sound cracked through the courtyard like a hammer striking an anvil.
Every conversation died instantly.
Varen froze mid-lean. Lyra's eyes sharpened. Claymond looked up, fully attentive. Even the ratmen stopped moving—the gray one wobbling at the top of the pillar as the black one stared in alarm.
Kairo straightened slowly.
This wasn't admiration anymore. This wasn't him watching from the sidelines.
He met their gazes one by one—steady, unwavering.
Silence pressed down.
Kairo drew a breath and spoke the words that would change his place among them forever.
"LET ME LEAD THEM."
To be continued....