The night was thick and still, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the hills. Somewhere in the darkness, voices whispered sharp and hurried, carrying the tension of men on a mission.
"Damn bastards," one hissed, the anger and fear in his tone palpable. "They won't die by the mouth of a beast, will they?"
Another swore under his breath. "I'd almost prefer it. At least then the boss won't find more ways to make our deaths… creative."
"They said… will those four idiots even survive in that small camp?" a third voice muttered, skeptical.
The men scurried along the narrow trail, their feet kicking up dirt and small stones in the dim light of the dawn-tinted sky. As spies of the Bloodbeard Bandits, every step they took was calculated. The night offered cover, but it was no stranger to danger. Beasts roamed freely after dark, and for them, a misstep could be fatal.
"Stop whining. Move faster," the lead spy snapped. "If it's late, the odds of seeing something nasty increase tenfold."
The other two grumbled but followed closely. Only the strongest, most cunning of men survived under Bloodbeard's command. Those lacking skill were left as slaves—tools for hard labor, beaten, humiliated, and sometimes broken beyond repair. Survival was measured in wits, courage, and luck.
"How far now?" one asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.
"By dawn, we'll reach it," came the answer.
"And why does the boss want to work with the people in that small camp?" a second man muttered. "Why not just kill them and take what we want?"
"Don't forget the Moon Wolves," the first answered grimly. "Last time, we lost half the men. The boss needs more manpower."
"Unlucky," muttered the third. "All the spies we sent before… all dead."
"Shut it. Keep moving," the leader snapped. They pressed forward, careful to stay low, stopping occasionally to hide behind rocks when the sounds of nocturnal beasts drew near.
The horizon began to blush with the first streaks of dawn. The three spies reached a small hill overlooking the camp, now visible as a mere cluster of tents in the distance.
"Look!" one of them whispered excitedly. "That's it, isn't it?"
The leader nodded. "Exactly. We'll approach from three directions, then meet here. No mistakes."
They separated, slipping into the camp with all the silence of shadows. The settlement seemed abandoned. No voices. No fires. Only the faint outline of huts and scattered belongings.
Suddenly, one spy stumbled.
"Careful!" hissed another. The first man scrambled up, brushing dirt from his clothes, searching for what had tripped him—but the ground was smooth, the path empty.
Strange.
More cautious now, all three proceeded. One by one, they fell into the same trap. Something unseen disrupted their footing, subtle but unmistakable.
By the time they regrouped on the hill, their expressions were grim.
"The doors were unlocked," said one. "Important items gone. Whoever left did so in a hurry."
"The charcoal in the firepit hasn't cooled," another added. "They must have left just before dawn."
"And on my side," the third said, his voice tight with frustration. "Same story."
Their glances met, each understanding the same truth: the camp was empty, and the occupants had anticipated their arrival.
"Damn it!" the lead spy growled. "They ran."
"Do we pursue?" one asked cautiously. "Maybe catch them?"
"Chase them?" the first scoffed. "Leave marks along their trail. Report back to the boss. The rest… well, the boss will take care of them. If they left yesterday, we might not see him in person. But if he's involved—haha—they're already dead."
Reluctantly, the spies made their reports, took a short rest, and then split into two teams to return to their master.
---
Meanwhile, a two-meter-long lizard crouched silently on a nearby rock wall. The tricolored skink's tongue flicked as it absorbed every scent, every vibration. Its mind hummed with Luciel's instructions.
After a moment, the skink slid down from the rock and moved like liquid shadow, following one team of spies, unseen but ever alert.
Farther off, the rock tortoise dozed atop a grassy knoll, its massive shell blending seamlessly with the rocky terrain. If one didn't know better, they might have mistaken it for a hillock rather than a living beast. Evolution points had replaced the need for food, and lethargy suited its size. There was no reason to move unless necessary.
Luciel, sitting comfortably by the firepit of his newly built home, let a small smile curve his lips. "The plan is working almost perfectly," he murmured. "Half-successful… and the rest will follow."
He had been awake just after three in the morning, checking the firewood in the camp, ensuring the setup was perfect. Less than four hours of sleep later, the Red Ghost Spider alerted him that someone had disturbed its silk. Luciel analyzed the intruders' movements and tracked them with precision.
The three spies had walked exactly into his trap.
The skink would tail two of them, while the Red Ghost Spider monitored the remaining one. Any deviation, any suspicion, would send alerts back. Bloodbeard's men were skilled—but even the skilled could not avoid meticulous planning.
---
Mino's voice cut through the quiet morning air. "Luciel! Let's go! The firewood—let's light it!"
She burst from the room, hair tousled, rabbit ears standing on end, clutching the wolfskin to her chest. Anxiety brightened her eyes as she ran toward him.
Luciel smiled, a soft, indulgent smile. "No need," he said calmly.
The girl froze, a mixture of disappointment and surprise flashing across her face. "Really?"
"Yes." He stepped forward, brushing her hair back gently, letting her wolfskin slide off her shoulders. "I already lit the firewood last night. Everything is in place."
Mino's eyes widened. "You… didn't wake me?"
Luciel shook his head. "You were sleeping. After all, you've been building houses all day and stacking wood all night. I didn't want to disturb you."
The girl crossed her arms, pouted, and snorted indignantly. "Humph! You're making excuses!"
He chuckled softly, watching her cheeks flush with playful indignation. "I didn't forget. Breakfast is all set for you. Just take care of it."
Mino's eyes lit up immediately. "Really?" She sprang toward the door, her wolfskin clutched tight. "You can leave it to me!"
Luciel stepped back, a faint grin playing on his lips. "Good. Then it's all yours."
As he turned away, the corners of his mouth curved into a small, satisfied smile.
Girls were simple creatures, he realized. Easy to please, easy to understand—at least the ones he cared about.
And in moments like this, when the world was still and quiet, he found their simplicity comforting.