The edge of the Swamp Forest.
Here, on the blurred boundary between life and death, poisonous spore-caps cast a faint glow from rotting wood. Fungal mats blanketed seemingly solid ground, and amidst the twisted, dead trees and stagnant water, a startled Hard-shelled Water Lizard or a vibrantly colored poison frog would occasionally dart past.
This was the ancestral hunting ground of the Sub-human Tribes.
Compared to the deadly depths of the swamp, the outer edges were still habitable, offering the resources needed for survival.
Every spring, the Lizardmen would move like specters through the outskirts, cautiously hunting small prey with blow darts or gathering glowing, anti-toxin moss to trade with passing human caravans.
But ever since the faith of corruption began to spread along the riverbanks, this tradition was shattered. The Corrupted Lizardmen developed sharper claws and tougher Scale Armor.
Driven by greed, they began to emulate the Jackal Wolfmen, hunting large beasts in the outskirts and even preying on other, weaker Sub-human Tribes.
For a time, terror gripped the riverlands. Even human caravans dared not travel along the banks of the Reed River, fearing they would be plundered by the greedy Corrupted Lizardmen.
However, even the formidable Corrupted Lizardmen had something they feared.
At the edge of the Swamp Forest, the figure of a tall, strong Lizardman darted desperately, like a frightened gecko fleeing for its life. His scales were dull, as if shrouded in gray mist, and his slender tail whipped about in terror. Every footfall stirred the buzzing of venomous insects hidden beneath the rotting leaves.
A mortal terror had seized him, leaving him no time to consider his path; his only thought was to escape the unseen hunter at his back.
WHOOSH—!
A crude but powerful wooden spear tore through the heavy air with a lethal shriek, slamming into the rotting wood a mere half-inch from the fugitive's foot! The shaft quivered violently, its humming incessant.
The fugitive froze in terror. An icy despair washed over him as he trembled, slowly raising his head to look in the direction the spear had come from.
A figure stood silently in the shadows.
She was a female Lizardman Warrior, taller than the average Lizardman and covered in deep, olive-green Scale Armor that was as hard as cold iron.
Several sharpened bone blades and short spears hung from her waist, devoid of any ornamentation.
Her amber, slitted pupils narrowed coldly, like a viper locking onto its prey, as she stared down without emotion at the trembling fugitive below.
There was no pity in her eyes, only a pure, soul-freezing killing intent. She tilted her head slightly, her voice like a frigid wind scraping across rock.
"Where is she?"
The Corrupted Lizardman finally broke under the overwhelming terror, falling to his knees to beg for mercy.
"I don't know, I really don't know."
"Lady Semia, please, spare my life."
The female Lizardman's voice was still ice-cold.
"I will ask again. My sister, Sergash. Where is she?"
"It was all Priest Zulok's doing! It had nothing to do with me."
"He colluded with the Jackal Wolfmen and drove the Shaman deep into the swamp. The hunting party that pursued her never came back… Perhaps they're… they're already…"
FWIP—!
Before the Lizardman could finish, a thrown bone blade pierced his throat with pinpoint accuracy.
Blood sprayed from the wound. His mouth gaped, and a thick, gurgling sound—GURGLE... GURGLE...—rose from his throat, like desperate bubbles choking on blood. Finally, his body went limp and fell into the cold swamp with a heavy SPLASH.
Semia walked over, her expression cold, and picked up the blood-stained bone blade, carefully wiping it clean.
She stood there for a long time before she reached for the wolf's tooth hanging from her neck. The icy mask on her face instantly melted, replaced by confusion and helplessness.
'Sergash… was I too late?'
'No.'
She clenched the wolf's tooth.
'The Ancestral Spirits and Putu will keep you safe.'
'I'm coming to find you now.'
"Cough, cough…"
A sudden cough interrupted Semia's thoughts. At some point, an old Lizardman had appeared behind her.
"Semia, it's time to go back."
"You know we can't linger under Zulok's nose for too long."
Semia turned, her face devoid of expression.
"Shazak, I am grateful that the Rot Moss Tribe saved my life."
"But Sergash is my everything. My father is dead. I can't lose her, too."
"I want to go into the depths of the swamp alone."
The old Lizardman, Shazak, gripped a beast bone and whispered a prayer.
"Nature does not abandon its Believers."
"That child, Sergash, is the most devout follower of nature I have ever seen. She will be fine."
"But…"
Semia started to say more.
"No buts. You must learn to trust an elder's wisdom."
"Besides, the depths of the Swamp Forest are crawling with dangerous beasts. Without Nature's guidance, you will only become lost."
"If you want to find Sergash, you must first help the tribe resolve its current crisis."
"When that is done, I will personally enter the swamp with you to find her."
Semia's grip on her bone blade tightened, her expression murderous.
"Has Zulok come after the Rot Moss Tribe?"
"Not that seriously, but the situation isn't optimistic."
The old Lizardman Shazak slowly started walking, heading toward a small hunting party waiting for them under an oak tree.
"Those mindless Corrupted Lizardmen went on a rampage and attacked our human neighbors, including a merchant caravan carrying large amounts of food supplies."
"The merchant in charge is a down-on-his-luck nobleman from Iron Boot Town, that Adventurer Town."
"A nobleman who has abandoned his former glory to become a traveling merchant… heh… I imagine he's a human with quite a story."
"In any case, this human noble doesn't seem to be as shrewd as other merchants. He fell into the Corrupted Lizardmen's trap and is now on the run."
"You want me to go save humans?"
Semia fixed her gaze on Shazak.
She didn't hate humans, but only because she was indifferent to them. As for any sort of goodwill, she had none whatsoever.
Semia still remembered clearly how, when she was only half-grown, her father had traded with a human merchant for a pitiful amount of food, even selling his favorite fang-blade to make the deal.
He later injured his leg on a hunt because he was without it, and he never walked as fluidly again.
In her eyes, humans were greedy and cunning creatures who were especially good at lying. They would stop at nothing for profit, and she despised dealing with them.
"Not entirely."
A sturdy Lizardman hoisted Shazak onto his shoulders.
"Our main objective is the food supplies the caravan is carrying."
"As for the merchant himself, it would be best if we can save him."
"If word gets out that the Rot Moss Tribe saved a human, our trade relations with them won't be completely severed."
"Semia, you must remember: humans are indeed greedy, but they have also genuinely helped us survive countless winters."
"We still need their help. Even if it means maintaining a false friendship, everything is for the good of the tribe."
"Only when we have enough food, when our Warriors have eaten their fill, will we have the strength to fight the savage beasts and venture deep into the swamp to find Sergash."
"I understand."
Semia took a deep breath. Saying nothing more, she silently fell in behind the hunting party.