"You saved my life?"
The voice came from ahead, soft but steady, carried on shaky breaths that barely masked the awe laced within. The young mystic approached, eyes wide with gratitude, limbs trembling slightly from exhaustion and adrenaline. His steps faltered as he neared the group, gaze fixed on Xander, the man who had intervened during the chaos.
"I just did what needed to be done, kid," Xander replied with a dismissive wave, brushing off the moment like it meant nothing. "You've got some solid moves yourself. For a mystic without any training, you're not half bad."
The youth stood there, modest and worn. His appearance suggested he was native to this place, clad in torn garb, his dark hair unkempt and tangled, face marked with soot and effort. There was nothing externally striking about him, yet something lingered in the way he carried himself: resilience. Grit is born of survival and necessity.
Despite his appearance, he had proven his mettle. He'd engaged the greater taratect with impressive fortitude, keeping it occupied long enough for the others to arrive. It wasn't a small feat. His actions had bought precious time, preventing the creature from rampaging unchecked through the settlement.
In usual circumstances, a predator-class walker arriving unannounced would be catastrophic. The streets would've run slick with blood, and buildings reduced to twisted rubble. But thanks to this mystic's effort and that of another, devastation was averted.
"I appreciate the words, but I wasn't alone," the mystic corrected. "My brother and I held it back together. Have you- have you seen him?"
His tone shifted. The initial relief crumbled beneath a rising tide of worry. His wide eyes frantically searched their faces for answers.
"He got caught by the creature... Thrown aside like nothing. I didn't even see where he landed. He could be impaled, crushed… To the LORD's, he could be—
Panic took hold like a vice. His thoughts spiralled, swallowing logic in a storm of fear. Desperation clung to every syllable as his breathing quickened.
"If it's a sibling and another mystic…," Xander muttered, trying to recall.
"It's probably that one we found earlier, the one you yeeted halfway across the plaza," Joseph interjected, his memory faster than Xander's mouth.
"Hey!" Xander snapped. "Don't say it like I tossed him like a sack of potatoes!"
"Didn't you?" Joseph countered, not missing a beat.
"No! That's not how it happened!" Xander barked. "Kid, don't listen to him. I didn't just discard your brother like trash. I made sure he landed somewhere soft… I think."
His protest, though well-meaning, did little to help his case. Especially with his frame still dripping in taratect slime, looking every bit the savage beast-handler rather than a noble rescuer. Any attempt to seem responsible was falling flat, fast.
The young mystic's face paled. "Where is he? Where's my brother?!"
The urgency in his voice could've torn open the sky. There was no patience left in him, only raw instinct driving him forward. Eric felt his chest tighten watching it unfold. He couldn't help but imagine if it were Aldrich or Saldrich in peril, he wouldn't be able to remain composed either.
"O-Over there," Xander stammered, pointing quickly. "I placed him right over there, near the rubble by the well."
Before the last word left Xander's mouth, the mystic had already sprinted off like a bolt of lightning, vanishing in the direction Xander had indicated.
"Look what you did!" Xander yelled, glaring at Joseph. "You freaked him out!"
"Me?" Joseph replied, exasperated. "I told the truth. It's not my fault he panicked."
Their argument blossomed again, loud, immature, and exhausting. At this point, Eric barely noticed. Their squabbling had become background noise, no more disruptive than the chirping of birds or the howl of wind through broken beams. What would shock him now was the sight of them coexisting peacefully for even a heartbeat.
Still, Joseph wasn't entirely innocent. On most occasions, when you only heard his side of things, he sounded perfectly logical. But Eric knew the truth, seventy percent of the time, Joseph was the instigator.
"What part of what you just said sounded like truth?" Xander barked again, his temper flaring.
Though one could argue Xander needed to practice composure. Joseph was clearly baiting him and succeeding. If Xander could learn to shrug off the jabs, their spats wouldn't escalate so frequently.
Then again, Joseph probably knew this and did it all the more because of it.
"Enough, both of you."
Gerald's voice cut clean like a honed blade. Deep, commanding, unamused.
"Search the area. Check for survivors. Count casualties. Move your asses and stop acting like squabbling children."
The reprimand landed hard, but before anyone could react—
"Don't bother. You won't find anyone else."
A new voice chimed in, soft, laboured, yet reassuring.
The young mystic returned, this time aiding an older figure with a limp. His brother. One arm slung over his shoulder, the other clinging to him for balance. Both looked battered, but alive.
"Hey!" Xander exclaimed, both relieved and vindicated. "See? Told you I was careful!"
Gerald, however, focused on something else. "What do you mean we won't find anyone? Were you able to evacuate them? Or…"
His voice trailed, daring not to finish the grim possibility.
"Evacuate?" the older brother chuckled darkly. "They didn't need help. The moment that thing crawled out from its pit, they scattered like birds. Vanished without so much as a scream. All of them made it out."
"Then why did you stay behind?" Joseph asked, genuinely puzzled. "If the civilians fled, you had no reason to fight."
Both brothers exchanged a glance.
"We had our reasons," the elder replied cryptically. "But more than that, we believe there's not just one of those creatures down there."
That one sentence changed everything.
Gerald, Joseph, and Xander froze.
Their expressions aligned, shadows darkening their features as realisation sank in. A silence followed, heavy and cold, hinting at the scale of the danger they might still be facing.