Garrika slowed to a stop, tail stilling behind her. "We've arrived," she said, eyes sweeping over the dense clearing.
The area buzzed with activity. Dozens of hunters from different races filled the mossy ground — elves in light gear crouched by traps, dwarves dragging beast carcasses toward carts, and a group of humans arguing over a half-broken spear. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and iron.
Trafalgar took it all in with a slow glance. 'Too many people.'
He turned slightly toward Garrika. "So… what exactly are we hunting?"
She unfolded the parchment she'd kept tucked under her belt. "According to the request, we're after Hollowspawn, Vyrkoth Beasts, and Graven Stalkers. All Flow-ranked. Their cores drop resin crystals used for enchanting tools."
"Sounds profitable," Sylven muttered, scanning the treeline. "And risky."
Trafalgar crossed his arms. "Flow rank. One tier above me. Guess I'll get my training."
