Mark's party and Eccar listened closely as Jan laid everything out. As the explanation unfolded, Mark, Selene, Thorne, and Kaela exchanged silent but telling looks. The pieces were fitting together too well — the berserk tribesmen, the shadow creatures, and now this temple with its black smoke and ancient golems.
It all confirmed what they had started to fear, this wasn't just random chaos. Something real and dangerous was stirring in the heart of the forest.
Eccar, on the other hand, simply nodded, his face calm and this all is accurate to what Erend had said.
Now that the picture was becoming clearer, he knew he'd need to send a report to Erend later. With this new information, perhaps the powers that had granted him more divination would send another message, something even more precise.
It was, in a way, fortunate that he had chosen this inn tonight. If they had stayed in the palace, sheltered among officials and guards, they would have missed this vital clue. Quietly, Mark found himself praising Eccar's decision.
"Let's not waste time then," Eccar said, his voice firm as he sit slightly straighter. "We need to go to that temple and see it for ourselves."
Jan tensed at that, the memory of the black smoke flashing in his mind. The foul aura, the way it made his skin crawl — it wasn't something he wanted to face again. He looked at Eccar, worry clear in his eyes.
"That place is dangerous," Jan said quietly.
"I know," Eccar replied, his tone casual, almost light. "That's exactly why we need to go there soon. Something's happening, and the sooner we understand it, the better."
Unlike Eccar, who seemed untouched by fear, Mark and his party showed their anxiety plainly as well.
They had seen what happened to adventurers who charged recklessly into the unknown and had sought glory and reputation, only to meet death or worse like crippled body, or a mind shattered by things no human was meant to see.
Mark and his friends had survived this long because they knew when to be cautious.
Eccar noticed the way the room's mood had turned heavy, the unease flickering in their faces like shadows. He let out a small smile and looked around at each of them.
"Don't worry," Eccar said, his voice steady and reassuring. "It's going to be alright. Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but I'm pretty strong. I won't let anything happen to you if something powerful shows up."
He met their eyes one by one, letting his confidence settle over them.
Mark's party already knew the truth of those words. They had seen Eccar's strength firsthand. And though Jan's party hadn't yet witnessed it, they could feel it, that quiet force coiled beneath his skin.
It was enough to ease their tension, if only a little.
Jan's companions gave him small nods. Jan let out a breath and looked back at Eccar.
"We agree then," he said finally. "Let's do it."
Eccar nodded, satisfied with the answer. He glanced toward the door and then back at the table. "Good. But first, we eat."
At that, they called the servant and ordered food. When the plates arrived, they dug in with fervor, the tension loosening slightly as hunger took over.
On the other side of the city, far from the warmth of inns and the glow of lantern-lit streets, deep in the slum quarter where lawless men made their nests, a man walked with steady confident steps.
This place, where outlaws, bandits, and gutter-born gangs loitered like rats in the dark, was no place for decent folk. But for him, it was as familiar as home.
Eyes followed him from every shadowed corner, full of cruel intent. Those men thinking of robbery, murder, and easy prey. But when the man turned his hard and cold gaze upon them, they shrank back without a word.
Even the boldest thugs melted into the alleys, suddenly remembering more pressing matters elsewhere.
He shook his head in disdain, muttering under his breath, "Filthy scum… trash, every one of them."
Without breaking stride, he scanned his surroundings once more and stepped through the crooked doorway of a rotting building.
He crossed the creaking floor to a trapdoor, pulled it open without hesitation, and descended into the dark. The stairs groaned under his weight, but he kept going, deeper and deeper, until the tunnel swallowed him whole.
At the end of the passage, he stopped at a heavy door. Producing a key from his belt, he unlocked it, stepped inside, and closed it behind him with a quiet thud.
The room beyond was dimly lit, the only light coming from the slow glow of a pipe held between a woman's lips and few oil lamps. She sat there in the haze, exhaling smoke in lazy curls, her eyes sharp despite her relaxed posture.
"Something happened?" she asked.
The man approached, folding his arms.
"I just got word. Some adventurers arrived in the city after traveling far. Probably from far away. Word is, Sting wants us to keep an eye on them."
At that, the woman lowered her pipe and frowned, her eyes narrowing. "Who are they exactly? Why would Sting bother with them? He doesn't call unless it's trouble."
The man's lips curled in a half-smile. "I reckon Sting's worried they'll get in the way. Maybe they're stronger than your usual wandering adventureres. Maybe they've got ties to someone important. Either way, he wants them watched."
The way they spoke — calling Sting by name, not title — made it clear: these two weren't just underlings. They were leaders in their own right, high-ranking members of the same organization, the ones in charge of the faction that operated here in Qomore.
Their task was no small-time job either. The cult that hired them had paid heavily, and they meant to deliver. If that meant eliminating anything or anyone who so much as looked like an obstacle, then so be it. Success meant everything. Failure wasn't an option.
The woman leaned back in her chair, smoke swirling around her. Her frown deepened.
"Then we'll deal with them before they sniff too close.
The man nodded once, silent agreement passing between them.
"For now I will have my man watch them," the man said.