Ivor did not stop moving until the forest thickened again and the sounds of distant fighting had long faded behind him.
Only then did he allow himself to slow.
He found a shallow depression between the roots of a large, slanted tree where the ground dipped slightly inward. The position gave him partial cover from three sides while leaving a clear view of the only open approach. He listened for several seconds, letting his breathing settle while his eyes traced every shadow between the trunks.
Nothing followed him.
He lowered himself carefully onto the ground, his injured leg extending in front of him. Now that he was no longer forcing it to move, the pain returned fully, a deep, pulsing ache that spread from his thigh down into his knee.
He reached into his pouch and pulled out the Frostvine leaves.
They were thin and pale blue, their surface faintly cool to the touch. He had read about them before, but this was the first time he had held them in his hand.
He placed the first four leaves over the worst of the swelling along his calf where the wolf had clawed. The moment they touched his skin, a sharp, cold sensation spread outward, followed almost immediately by a deep, biting burn that made his jaw tighten. He forced himself not to react as he pressed them firmly into place.
He pulled the remaining intact portion of his pants free and tore the fabric along the seam below the knee. The material resisted at first, but he forced it apart and wrapped the strip tightly around his leg, binding the leaves in place so they would not shift.
He exhaled slowly before moving to his upper body.
Two more leaves went over the tear along his bicep where bone had nearly cut through muscle, and the last two he pressed across the bruised and split skin along his shoulder. Again, he tore more fabric from what remained of his pants and secured them tightly.
When he finished, nothing remained of the lower half of the garment.
He sat there in silence, bare-chested, his skin marked with drying blood and bruises while the Frostvine worked beneath its bindings. The burn continued, steady and uncomfortable, but he could already feel the deeper pressure in his leg beginning to ease.
He did not allow himself to rest yet.
He reached into his pouch again and withdrew one of the mana crystals. He turned it once in his hand before closing his fingers around it.
He slowed his breathing and drew mana upward from the crystal to his core.
At the same time, he directed a thin stream of mana into his right index finger, forming the familiar coating he had been practicing. The layer settled unevenly at first, flickering faintly as he focused on stabilizing it.
Only when the flow steadied did he begin absorbing the crystal.
He did not know the proper method, only what instinct and observation had taught him. He allowed his core to pull, slowly, carefully, drawing the energy inward rather than forcing it. The crystal responded gradually. The faint light within it dimmed as warmth spread through his palm, into his arm and toward his core.
His core stirred in response.
At first, the pressure behind his eyes rose only slightly, the familiar tightening he had begun to expect whenever he pushed himself.
Then it deepened.
The sensation spread inward, as if something behind his eyes was pressing outward against the sockets themselves. His vision wavered briefly, and he clenched his jaw as the pressure intensified.
It did not feel like strain.
It felt like resistance.
The pain sharpened suddenly, far worse than the injuries across his body. His thigh throbbed. His shoulder burned beneath the Frostvine. But those pains were distant compared to this. This was deeper. Intrusive.
For a moment, an irrational urge surfaced.
To dig his fingers into his own eyes and tear the pressure out.
His breathing faltered.
The mana coating around his finger flickered violently before he forced it to stabilize again. Sweat gathered along his forehead as he endured the sensation without moving and kept going.
*******
Some distance away from where Ivor was struggling with the sudden abnormality in his body, Nara and Luna were tracking him.
The first thing Luna noticed was the smell of blood. Not the fresh kind but the lingering scent of injury settling into cloth, bark, and soil. It hung unevenly in the air ahead, carried by slow currents between the trees. She adjusted her path slightly, her steps silent as she moved toward it. Behind her, Nara followed at a steady pace.
They emerged into a clearing that had only recently fallen quiet.
Five boys were scattered across the ground in various states of injury. One lay curled around his leg, his hands slick with blood. Another leaned weakly against a tree trunk, his jaw swollen and darkening beneath the skin. A third sat slumped forward, his breathing shallow, while the remaining two struggled to remain conscious.
They all looked up when they heard movement between the trees. Their bodies tensed at first, hands tightening weakly around their weapons, but the tension eased slightly when they saw Nara step into the clearing with Luna beside him.
Even then, none of them spoke immediately.
Nara did not greet them. His eyes moved calmly from one injured body to the next, taking in the details without urgency. He noted the deep cut along one boy's thigh, the disabled arm of another, the swelling along a jaw that had already begun to darken, and the scattered positions that spoke clearly of a sudden, overwhelming defeat rather than a prolonged struggle.
He stepped closer to one of them.
Behind him, Luna moved slowly through the clearing. Her bare feet pressed lightly against the soil as she followed the scent trails invisible to human senses. She paused near a dark patch of blood and lowered her fingers to it, bringing them closer to her face. Her ears tilted slightly forward as she confirmed what she already suspected.
She straightened and looked toward Nara.
"Should we help them?" she asked.
Nara rose to his feet without taking his eyes off the injuries.
"Not this bunch," he said simply.
He turned away without another word.
None of the injured boys protested. They watched in silence as Nara and Luna left the clearing the same way they had entered.
For several seconds, neither Nara nor Luna spoke as they moved deeper into the forest.
Then Nara exhaled slowly, and the calm neutrality on his face shifted into something else.
Excitement.
"He fought five of them," Nara said, his voice carrying a restrained energy. "And he didn't kill them. Every injury was deliberate. He knew exactly where to strike."
Luna walked beside him, her gaze forward, her senses still fixed on the trail.
"He had already fought two other groups before this," Nara continued. "That means he defeated at least eight or nine people today while injured."
He glanced at her briefly.
"Do you think he might team up with us?"
Luna did not answer immediately.
"First we need to know where he comes from," she said at last. "I have never seen him in the city."
Nara slowed.
Then he stopped completely.
Luna turned slightly toward him.
His eyes had widened.
"Shrouded," he said.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Luna studied his face. "Why?"
"It doesn't make sense otherwise," Nara replied. "He's not from the Core District. They don't come here. And I know everyone from the Inner District assigned this cycle." He paused briefly. "And his clothes. His condition. He looked like a beggar."
"Maybe. But a Shrouded this strong does not make sense. Didn't the last Shrouded die during training?"
"He did." Nara said and continued walking. They began moving again, faster now. After several seconds, Luna suddenly raised her hand.
Nara stopped instantly.
She tilted her head slightly, her ears angling forward as she focused.
"He is ahead," she said.
Then her expression shifted subtly. One eyebrow lifted.
"He noticed us."
*****
Ivor continued absorbing mana and practicing it at the same time while enduring the pain behind his eyes when suddenly something changed.
A scent reached him.
It was faint at first, barely noticeable beneath the smells of damp soil and bark.
Beast.
His eyes opened instantly.
He was on his feet before the thought finished forming, the crystal slipping into his pouch while his sword came free in the same motion. His injured leg held his weight without collapsing, the Frostvine dulling the worst of the damage.
He turned slowly, scanning the trees. The smell was fresh.
Close.
He could not hear movement, but that meant nothing. Several seconds passed in silence. Then two figures stepped into view between the trunks.
The boy came first.
Beside him, Luna emerged without sound, her amber eyes already locked onto his.