Master Welthe walked with measured steps, though exhaustion was beginning to show on her face.
She and ten other Lost had been sent to investigate the situation with Team Delta, which had left for a patrol nearly three hours ago and still hadn't returned.
Welthe already had suspicions about what might have happened.
And none of them ended with her soldiers alive.
Even so, even if the chance was too small to be seen, she would keep searching. If even one of them was still breathing, it would have been worth it.
Seconds turned into minutes.
Minutes turned into nearly an hour.
Until they reached the sanctuary.
What they saw made her stomach churn.
Five bodies lay scattered, completely destroyed. The only one still recognizable was a young man named Lion — his head separated from his body, eyes still open to a sky he could not see.
"Damn creature…" muttered an Awakened, in a mix of hatred and fear.
"Ignore the bodies. We don't have time to retrieve them. Iron Sword formation."
Welthe's order came out firm, though her eyes reflected a heavy coldness — not of indifference, but restraint.
Regret rose like a knot in her throat.
Maybe if she had sent more men…
Maybe if she had gone personally…
But "maybe" did not change the present.
"Master Welthe, come here for a moment."
One of the Lost, specialized in investigation, knelt among the corpses, analyzing them with almost clinical precision.
When she approached, he spoke in a low voice:
"I've discovered that these bodies belong respectively to Mia, Kithy, and the twins Tomi and Holi..."
The silence that followed was heavy.
That left only one possibility.
The only member of Team Delta assigned to that mission who was not among the remains was Benlan.
And he had been behaving normally over the past three days.
No signs. No mistakes.
The terror that ran through the group was not merely fear of death.
It was something worse.
Young Benlan had always been known as reserved, discreet. But his actions were always focused on the collective good. Not everyone's friend, but at least known.
And knowing that someone who had stood beside them for years could have been replaced — and no one noticed — deeply shook the core of their souls.
"We're returning," Welthe ordered. "There's nothing more here."
The Lost reorganized quickly. No one looked back.
Now, the Masters and Awakened had only two tasks.
To reinforce the bond that kept Mordret imprisoned — or at least hold out until Saint Cormac's arrival.
And to ensure that Mordret did not usurp the body of the Awakened Sunless, currently detained.
If he took that body and escaped, he could return to the waking world.
And there… it would be almost impossible to find him again.
Extreme measures became necessary.
More than twenty Awakened were positioned in front of the prison, guarding the perimeter. After what they had witnessed, it no longer seemed excessive.
The large group returned to the inner sanctuary, where a vast hall served as the main base.
That would be the final refuge if everything collapsed.
And, inevitably, it collapsed.
---
One week later.
Mordret walked calmly through the empty corridors of the temple, a faint yawn escaping his lips.
Since the massacre of Team Delta, his opponents had grown more cautious. They no longer allowed small groups to wander alone. They concentrated in specific areas, reducing the range of the hunt.
For Mordret, it was ambiguous news.
Limiting their range meant only one thing.
They had lost territory.
Which, inversely, meant Mordret had gained territory. Trying to kill him had not been as easy as they expected, had it?
They had retreated.
And every step back they took was a step forward for him.
Even so, he did not allow himself arrogance.
Underestimating was the first step toward failure.
He had almost died that way once — after underestimating Sunny.
The memory was unpleasant.
So he moderated his own killings. He needed to remain precise.
But not patient.
With no time to wait for the Awakened to come to him, Mordret went to them.
Observing through reflections, he discovered that a barricade was being built to contain him. An improvised defensive point.
Probably a trap.
Perhaps.
A subtle smile formed on his lips.
What better way to measure the enemy's strength… than to break it?
His face slowly twisted into a scowl.
"I need to hurry… Cormac will arrive soon."
Until then, he could have some fun.
A faint light flickered at the end of the corridor. A few lamps were lit.
Eight Lost were building a barricade, ready to resist the monster's attack for long weeks.
Mordret watched from the darkness.
At the sight, he let out a dry, humorless laugh.
Then he began limping slightly.
"Help me…" his voice echoed weakly. "Please… there's a monster…"
The Lost turned toward the dark corridor, their faces shifting into almost instinctive fear.
Weapons raised.
"Stay where you are!" shouted a sentry. "Take one more step and we'll attack!"
"Call the Masters!"
From the gloom emerged Benlan.
His face covered in bruises.
His arms marked by cuts.
His eyes trembling.
A nearly perfect performance.
But not enough.
"We received a report about Team Delta," the sentry said coldly. "We know you took Benlan's body."
Mordret did not try to argue.
He only smiled.
The battle exploded, the melody of steel clashing echoing throughout the silent stretch of the temple.
The barricade held for only a few minutes.
Then it gave way.
The eight builders fell one by one.
When Master Welthe finally arrived, she was only in time to see Mordret pierce the chest of the last survivor.
He looked at her with an ironic gaze — almost as if to say her efforts were worthless.
"I thought it would take longer."
Then he abandoned Benlan's body.
The corpse hit the ground with a heavy sound.
The laughter that echoed through the hall seemed to vibrate inside the survivors' bones.
Welthe remained still.
Too late.
Coincidentally — or perhaps not — the prison was now without a Master supervising it.
Which meant only one thing.
The sentries guarding Sunless had become lambs.
And the slaughter was about to begin.