Willow scrutinized the final impressions with intense focus, trying to determine if the soul being had suddenly sprinted forward in a burst of speed or pivoted backward to return to his origins. However, the definitive evidence left in the dirt proved that the undead warrior had simply stood rooted to the spot, making no further movement whatsoever before instantly vanishing.
This bizarre anomaly led her to a striking conclusion: the creature had either been entirely erased, teleported away, or forcibly banished through a spatial portal summoned by an outside force.
It didn't take long for Willow's suspicions to narrow down on a prime suspect; she became increasingly convinced that the perpetrator was KO.
It aligned perfectly with his secretive nature, as she reasoned that a master of stealth would naturally harbor specialized, high-level spatial techniques designed to instantly manipulate the battlefield whenever standard martial prowess failed to secure victory.
It made logical sense to her; even if he lacked the immense energy required to teleport a massive target across a long distance, he could certainly possess the capacity to displace himself, or better yet, redirect an immediate threat like the monster they had just faced.
Thus, even though her theory remained an unverified assumption, Willow felt a growing certainty that KO had executed a last-second teleportation spell on the skeleton knight the exact micro-second it advanced to end his life.
It all became completely clear to Willow now. KO had not been lying or playing games when he stated that the skeleton knight was simply gone; he was merely trying to keep the true nature of his dangerous spatial powers a well-guarded secret. He was being deeply cautious, and for excellent reason—they were exiles, a status where any vulnerability could prove fatal.
Although their small group tried to project the illusion of being one big, unified family, the grim reality was that every single exile was fundamentally accustomed to fending for themselves.
Willow returned to KO's side a short while after assessing the situation and confirming they were no longer in danger of an immediate ambush by the scimitar-wielding monstrosity. However, as she drew closer to his resting place, a sudden chill ran down her spine; she sensed multiple unfamiliar silhouettes lurking directly around the perimeter where she had left her wounded companion.
The sudden intrusion shattered the brief moment of relief, instantly forcing her adrenaline to spike as she realized the battlefield was far from secure and that a completely new, potentially lethal threat now stood between her and her defenseless partner.
Startled that her comrade had been seamlessly surrounded in her absence, Willow instinctively vanished into the environment. She masterfully obscured her presence using the prevailing darkness, darting fluidly from rocky crevices to large cornerstones, melting into the long shadows they cast across the sandy floor.
Moving like a ghost, she carefully positioned herself to gain a clear view of the new arrivals, prepared to eliminate the intruders by absolute surprise if they showed any hostility.
As she drew closer to the coordinate where KO lay, she sensed four distinct silhouettes flickering at the periphery of her vision. Instantly, her tactical mind began formulating a lethal sequence to eliminate them one by one.
She gripped her tooth dagger with a white-knuckled intensity and peeked cautiously from her hiding place, attempting to identify the nature of the creatures she was about to confront and pinpoint their exact positions.
Amidst the tactical calculations, she couldn't help but worry how the critically injured KO was faring while completely surrounded by potential hostiles.
However, when she finally peered out from the safety of the shadows, she did not look upon the monstrous countenances of new enemies. Instead, the familiar faces of her fellow exiles materialized through the gloom.
It appeared the rest of their vanguard had successfully hunted down and eliminated whatever remaining stragglers were left scattered throughout the Darkovian camp.
Yet, even as a profound wave of relief washed over her, the ingrained paranoia of a seasoned rogue refused to let her guard down completely around people who, at the end of the day, were still desperate outcasts driven by their own hidden agendas.
Though she was secretly thrilled to see her comrades alive, she masterfully masked her emotion. Instead, she stepped forward with a measured, suspicious gaze, her analytical eyes narrowing as she noted a glaring anomaly: despite their supposed victory over the camp, not a single one of the returning exiles seemed to have claimed any spoils of war or valuable loot from the enemies they had allegedly defeated.
***
Young was feeling much better now, but sadly, the same could not be said for Nect. Although Nect was breathing much more rhythmically, he still had not opened his eyes or uttered a single word. It seemed as though he might never wake from this deep coma.
Young couldn't help but wrestle with a grim dilemma: would he eventually be forced to abandon his comrade, or should he continue to desperately sustain him using the localized healing properties his specialized gloves provided?
Ultimately, he pushed the thought aside; now was not the time to make such a harrowing decision. At present, they were tasked with the exhausting logistical nightmare of transporting Nect's deadweight body through hostile territory.
The oppressive silence of the uncharted wilderness pressed heavily against his ears, amplifying the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps as the daunting reality of their isolation threatened to crush whatever fragile hope he still harbored for their survival.
Bark walked steadily ahead of him, the two of them regularly alternating the burden of carrying their unconscious friend. Young harbored deep anxieties about how long they could realistically maintain this grueling pace, let alone defend Nect's defenseless form if they were suddenly ambushed.
Trying his best to suppress these worst-case scenarios, Young remained silent and followed closely behind Bark's footsteps, silently praying they would soon reunite with more of their scattered comrades who could lend much-needed muscle and support to their vulnerable little cohort.
It seemed his hope was well-founded, for it did not take long before he spotted the second-in-command of the Exiles. KO was visibly struggling to stand upright, maintaining his balance with extreme difficulty. Taking absolutely no time to process the shocking sight, Young haphazardly surged forward.
Although his desperate advance could hardly be called a true sprint—it was merely a frantic combination of speed-walking and dragging his feet under the crushing, deadweight burden of Nect—he moved as fast as his burning muscles allowed.
Upon drawing closer to the second-in-command, Young gently laid Nect's unconscious body down a few paces away. Without a moment's hesitation, he lunged toward KO, immediately activating the glowing, localized healing properties of his specialized gloves.
The brilliant, emerald light emitted from the fabric cast long shadows across the dirt, instantly fighting against the rapid onset of hemorrhagic shock as the magical warmth seeped deep into the warrior's shattered chest to knit torn muscle and stem the flow of crimson blood.
KO had easily sensed the frantic approach, but his battered body refused to cooperate; he was losing far too much blood and was steadily growing weaker by the second. Despite his fading consciousness, the elite rogue summoned the very last reserves of his strength.
His fingers shot out, tightly clamping around Young's gloved wrists in a vice-like grip, his hazy vision desperately trying to discern the identity of the person standing behind him, driven by a raw instinct to confirm whether they were a saving friend or a lethal foe.