"Ssyla!" one of the guards exclaimed, relief and shock mixing in his voice. "By the First Scale, we thought you were dead! The scouting party—"
"They're all dead," Ssyla said quietly, pain flashing across her face. "I'm the only one who survived. And I brought help." She gestured to Satou and his companions. "These warriors saved my life and have agreed to aid our tribe."
The guards looked skeptical, their eyes taking in the mixed group—a demon, two goblins, an orc, a young elf, and a mysterious cloaked figure. Not exactly a traditional rescue force.
"Help?" one guard said doubtfully. "No offense to you, stranger, but our tribe is facing eight hundred corrupted serpent warriors led by a mad king wielding dark magic. What can six people possibly do against that?"
Satou's response was simple. He let a fraction of his aura leak out—just enough to give these guards a taste of what he was capable of.
