While the battle raged on one side of the forest, far from the clash of steel and Magic, the cult was on the move.
The three men who had once waited silently in the treehouse now descended to the forest floor. They moved with purpose knowing the ritual was nearing its critical stage. The time had come for them to go to the temple.
But they were no longer alone.
Now, they walked alongside twenty more cloaked figures. They were cultists drawn from every kingdom and profession. Warriors, scholars, even former priests. Each one had earned their place. Their loyalty to the cause proven through years of work, blood offerings, and sabotage.
Their reward was acknowledgment within the inner circle that sought the resurrection of Thar'Zul-Vekar, the Old God of the Forest.
Together, they walked through the dense woods, where the mist had grown thicker, more unnatural. It no longer clung like simple fog but now it flowed like a river with a current of its own, swirling and shifting.
At times, it took shapes to become tendrils that resembled grasping limbs. Illusions of vines or tentacles reaching for their throats before dissolving into nothing.
But the cultists didn't fear the mist. They welcomed it.
To them, it was their god's breath, its will, and its presence. Every brush of cold fog against their skin felt like a blessing.
Some of them even spread their arms wide while smiling in ecstasy and murmuring prayers under their breath. The mist was their sacrament and proof.
They did not worry about the adventurers who tried to interfere. They will just let them struggle, fight and bleed. The cultists believed with certainty that they would all die before reaching the temple. Thar'Zul-Vekar would see to it.
They pressed on through the cursed woods with mist that keep curling around their feet and shoulders until finally deep in the most remote part of the forest, they saw it.
Gasps and cheers erupted among them as it came into view. The temple now is not the crumbling ruin Jan and his team had once found but something transformed.
What had once been the size of a small house now towered ten meters high and becoming a great structure of black and gray stone, grown like a tumor from the earth.
A wide courtyard spread out before it, flanked by pillars and walls etched with ancient runes. And stationed all around it with silent unmoving stance were fifty stone golems shaped like warriors. Their carved eyes burned with twin lights of green and blue, casting a sharp glow through the mist.
The golems didn't move yet. But their presence was unmistakable. They were the sentinels of the god and just waiting for a command to make them move.
The three leaders turned to their followers, eyes gleaming.
"We've arrived," one of them said solemnly.
The cheers that was louder this time rose again filled with joy and reverence.
Then, without hesitation, they continued forward, toward the waiting temple of their god.
Elsewhere in the forest, steel clashed with shrieks as Eccar and the adventurers were still locked in battle against the grey creatures that had emerged from the rift.
Eccar had killed his targets first. The two grotesque giants far larger and stronger than the rest. And yet, he moved calmly while wielding Magic and his physical prowess like a master sculptor shaping stone. It didn't take long for the giants fell to the earth one after another.
But Eccar didn't stay to help the others.
He turned without a word, knowing his allies could handle the rest. It wasn't arrogance but it was trust and respect for their strength.
As the last of the grey monsters shrieked and fell beneath the adventurers' blades and spells, Eccar had already reached the rift.
He placed his hand on its edge, and just like before he channeled his Magic deep into the fracture between worlds. Brown and black light bled from his palm and the air around the rift shivered. The pulsing slowed, then stopped.
The rift closed with a low snap.
When Eccar turned back, the forest was quiet again. The others — Jan, Thorne, Hund, Mark, Kaela, Esther, Selene, and Annette — stood amid the scattered remains of the creatures, catching their breath, their eyes turning to him.
"We move again?" Jan asked, his voice strained as he exhaled and he still catching his breath.
Eccar glanced around. The others weren't much better off. Their chests rising and falling, sweat lining their brows. But none of them were looking exhausted.
"How about you all?" Eccar asked, calmly.
Kaela gave a sharp grin, already twirling her twin daggers between her fingers. "This is nothing."
The others nodded in agreement despite their condition. Thorne rolled his shoulders with a quiet grunt.
Eccar who don't want to waste time nodded once firmly. "Then we move again."
They set off again, their pace steady but faster now. The forest didn't relent. They see more roots, twisted paths, and mist also still thick and alive, but they pushed forward without hesitation.
Minutes later, they reached another clearing and see another rift.
But this one was different. The pale light still shimmered in the air but they could already see footprints pressed into the damp ground. The creatures that had come from it had already moved on.
Eccar didn't hesitate.
He dashed forward, his cloak snapping behind him and placed his hand firmly on the rift. His Magic pulsed into it, light beginning to surge from his palm as he began the process of sealing it.
Then a shriek echoed behind them.
From the shadows, more of the grey creatures emerged. They were drawn to the rift or perhaps protecting it. Their sinewy limbs carried them fast and low to the ground and they charged toward Eccar with frenzy.
The adventurers didn't wait for orders.
Their weapons and spells immediately flashed and flared.
They move to meet the threat, forming a wall between the closing rift and the incoming monsters.