Stepping beyond the shimmering boundary of Virial's protective dome, Rachel felt a brief moment of disorientation before the crisp air of the wild rushed in, grounding her in reality. The dense forest loomed ahead, sunlight barely piercing through the heavy canopy above, casting the path in dappled shadows.

"Alright, everyone," Rachel said, turning to her team. "It's a tight formation. Nathan and Charles take the lead. Paul and I will flank. Archers and Evelyn are in the middle, Diana covering the rear."

"Got it, boss," Nathan chuckled, hefting his two-handed axe onto his shoulder with ease.

Charles nodded, adjusting the grip on his short sword and shield. He glanced briefly back at Evelyn, exchanging a reassuring smile with her. "Stay close," he murmured.

Evelyn gave a firm nod, her staff held tightly, her knuckles white. "I won't let you out of my sight."

They advanced cautiously into the forest, senses alert. The eerie quiet was occasionally broken by distant animal calls or rustling leaves, setting everyone on edge.

"So," Paul ventured softly, breaking the tense silence, "anyone wanna guess what a Vale Eater is?"

"Probably something big, ugly, and hungry," Diana quipped from the rear, her knives flashing briefly in her hands as she spun them nervously.

Felicity laughed lightly. "I think Diana just described Nathan."

"Hey! I'm charmingly rugged," Nathan protested good-naturedly, drawing quiet laughter from the group.

Rachel smirked, appreciating the brief levity. "Whatever they are, we need to find the source of the corruption and eliminate it. Virial wasn't exactly brimming with details."

"She doesn't seem like the sort that would give out too much," George said thoughtfully. "They definitely adhere to the sink or swim method. It is a great way to learn. I wish our lives weren't on the line for this version."

Rachel nodded slowly. "Exactly. I agree with you there."

Their conversation was abruptly cut short by a low growl from the bushes ahead. Everyone immediately tensed, weapons raised.

A pair of glowing eyes emerged from the underbrush, followed by the lean, sinewy form of a corrupted wolf, fur patchy and eyes unnaturally bright with malice. Before they could react, another two appeared beside it, teeth bared and hackles raised.

"Formation!" Rachel barked sharply.

Nathan and Charles stepped forward simultaneously, their movements synchronized from the recent battles. Nathan swung his axe in a wide, powerful arc, catching the first wolf and driving it back with a painful yelp. Charles followed up quickly, his shield deflecting the snapping jaws of another while his sword found an opening and cut deeply.

"Archers! Take them!" Rachel shouted, darting to one side to keep another wolf from flanking Charles.

George and Felicity nocked arrows almost in unison. Felicity's arrow thudded heavily into the chest of the injured wolf, while George's arrow sparked as it left his bow, glowing with mana before detonating upon impact. The explosion knocked the wolf aside, leaving it motionless.

Paul lunged forward, sabre slicing through the air in swift, precise movements, keeping the third wolf at bay. Diana joined him quickly, her twin knives a blur, forcing the wolf to retreat.

Within moments, the encounter was over, the wolves lying defeated around them. The team breathed heavily, adrenaline still coursing through their veins.

"That's just the appetizer," Nathan grunted, shaking off the tension. "If that's the welcoming committee, I hate to see what's deeper in."

Charles wiped sweat from his forehead, casting a concerned glance at Evelyn. She nodded reassuringly, though her fingers trembled slightly on her staff.

"Let's keep moving," Rachel commanded gently. "Stay sharp."

The team pressed on, navigating the treacherous terrain until the forest began to thin, the trees giving way to a broad, open valley shrouded in an unnatural mist. Rachel raised her hand, signaling a halt.

"Looks like we've found our valley," she whispered, her eyes narrowing as she studied the ominous landscape ahead. The mist shifted and coiled as if alive, hinting at dangers hidden within.

Paul stepped beside her, voice low and serious. "Ready for this?"

Rachel nodded firmly, her grip tightening around her sabre. "We don't have a choice. Let's move."

They stepped into the vale, the mist curling around their legs and shoulders like cold fingers. Visibility dropped significantly, forcing them to stay even closer together. Every sound was amplified—every creak of armor, every snapped twig.

"We need to figure out what's causing this fog," Rachel said, her voice a soft command. "Eyes sharp, ears open."

The group spread out slightly, combing through the mists, checking the base of trees, unusual formations, and anything that looked unnatural.

It wasn't long before George hissed a warning. "Movement—left side. Fast."

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A rustle, then the thunder of claws against soil. Four corrupted boars burst from the mist, tusks elongated and bodies bloated with black veins pulsing beneath their skin.

"Incoming!" Rachel shouted, already pivoting.

Paul and Nathan rushed to intercept the charge. Paul's sabre flicked up, slicing a deep gash into one boar's side. Nathan let out a roar and slammed his axe down into the spine of another, halting its charge mid-stride.

Charles and Diana flanked the remaining boars. Charles absorbed the first impact with his shield, holding firm as Diana ducked low and drove both knives into the beast's underbelly.

Felicity and George provided cover fire, arrows singing through the air and finding their marks. Evelyn stayed centered, staff ready, her eyes scanning for injury.

Within minutes, the corrupted beasts were slain, steam rising from their black blood as it hissed against the cool ground.

"No signs of a source yet," Rachel said, scanning the misty horizon. "Let's keep moving. And stay ready. There's more out here—I can feel it."

The team pressed on until the forest began to thin, giving way to the broad, mist-shrouded vale. The thick and persistent mist curled around them. Visibility dropped, forcing the group even closer together.

Over the next three hours, they skirted the outer edges of the fog, unwilling to dive too deeply until they had a better sense of what awaited them. The mist seemed to shift unnaturally, concealing corrupted beasts in its folds. They fought off a pack of sleek, mist-covered foxes that attacked in coordinated bursts of speed. Later, a corrupted elk charged from the fog, its antlers pulsing with a strange black light, before they brought it down with focused attacks.

Each battle was brutal, but the rewards were evident. Everyone had gained at least two levels, their strength and abilities sharpened by the ceaseless combat. Rachel commented on the increased pace of their growth.

"These things are giving out more experience than anything we've faced before. This might be dangerous, but it's also a goldmine for progress."

Their pace slowed as the attacks intensified. During one such clash, Nathan took a heavy blow to his side from a tusked creature that ambushed them in the mist. Blood soaked through his tunic as he staggered back.

"Hold still," Evelyn said, already kneeling beside him. She summoned her healing spell and pressed a hand to his side, light flaring faintly.

But the wound resisted her magic. She frowned, trying again, only to see the healing process falter.

"Something's wrong," she said. "It's not healing like it should."

Rachel's gaze swept the fog around them. "The mist. It's dampening your healing somehow."

Evelyn cursed under her breath, her voice tight. "Shit. Hold on." She funneled her mana into the spell, shaping the energy with focused intent. The glowing thread of magic darted toward Nathan, but she felt it unravel, thinning and dissipating before it could reach him. She stood barely a foot away, yet the mist devoured her effort mid-air.

Frustrated, she took the final step and pressed her hand directly to the bleeding wound at Nathan's side. He grunted, a short, sharp sound, more annoyance than pain. "Sorry, Nathan," she muttered, channeling a fresh surge of energy. "One more second."

He didn't look at her, his gaze sweeping the mist ahead, searching. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the discomfort without a word.

As Evelyn poured mana through the point of contact, she felt the spell take hold—stronger now, less resistance. "You're right, Rachel," she said. "If I'm not touching them, the magic drains into the air."

Rachel exhaled. "Figured it'd be something like that." She glanced around at the hazy expanse. "We've been circling the edge of this thing for hours. From what we saw before the descent, this valley's more or less circular. To walk the whole perimeter would take a day, and we're not staying out here past sunset. We've got maybe seven hours of light left. I say we head for the center. Whatever's causing this, it'll be there."

Paul stepped up beside her, sabre resting on his shoulder. "Probably a safe bet," he said. "You sure about this, though?"

"Pretty sure," Rachel replied, casting a look back at the group. "Unless anyone's got a better plan?"

They glanced at each other, mist clinging to their clothes and armor. No one spoke up. A few shook their heads, but most just nodded grimly.

"Alright," Rachel said. "Same formation. Nathan, up front. Paul, off-tank. I'll cover the right flank, Charles on the left. Diana, rear guard. George, Felicity—you're in the center. Take shots when you can. Evelyn, stay with them. Save your mana. Don't heal anything less than a serious wound. If someone's bleeding out, we collapse inward and form a ring while she works."

Nathan shot her a crooked grin. "Yes, Drill Sergeant, sir." He threw up a sloppy salute, grinning widely.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "They were worse than that. I promise." A smile tugged at her lips despite the tension. She remembered those days with an odd sense of fondness—grueling, miserable, but invaluable. Without them, this whole mission might have already ended in disaster.

Paul adjusted the grip on his sabre and glanced around the group. "Alright then. Which way?"

Rachel tapped her interface, bringing up the map. A faint, glowing trail traced their earlier movements, a ghostly thread marking their progress. With a flick of her hand, she zoomed in and oriented it toward the center of the vale. "Let's head that way," she said, pointing into the thick fog. "One hundred meters at a time. Stay in formation. Do not get separated."

She emphasized the word 'Not' with sharp clarity, and everyone nodded in silent agreement, the weight of her tone unmistakable. Weapons were rechecked. Stances reset. They fell into formation.

The march forward was cautious, every step deliberate. The fog thickened with each meter, curling around their legs and seeping into their clothes like cold breath. They moved tightly, shoulder to shoulder, until Rachel raised a hand.

"Ease up," she muttered. "We're packed in too tight. No one can swing like this. The last thing I want is Nathan's backswing catching someone in the face."

Paul snorted and took a half-step to the right, only now realizing he had been directly behind Nathan. "Fair point," he muttered, giving the larger man a little more room.

Nathan extended his axe, testing the clearance. The broad head of the weapon glinted faintly in the dim light as he gave a slight nod of satisfaction. The others adjusted accordingly, keeping a healthy buffer while still close enough to react as one.

Shapes emerged in the fog, threatening at first glance, but many turned out to be gnarled tree trunks or fallen branches. Still, each one drew a tense breath or a nocked arrow. Twice, they were forced into brief, violent skirmishes. Shadowy creatures lunged from the mist, their bodies twisted by the same corruption that plagued the vale. The team responded quickly, arrows flying, blades flashing, and Evelyn's staff brimming with energy, though she held her healing back, conserving every drop of mana for when it was truly needed.

After a third confrontation, they pressed on until the trees gave way to a small glade.

Here, the air changed.

The mist no longer curled lazily—it poured. At the center of the glade stood an ancient and freestanding stone doorway carved from black basalt. It had no door, just an arch of stone, and from its top, the mist surged straight upward like smoke from an eternal flame.

They halted at the edge of the clearing.

Beyond the threshold of eighty meters around the structure, the grass had withered to brittle strands. Small animals—rabbits, birds, even a deer—lay dead or dying along the perimeter. Their bodies bore no wounds, only the signs of rot and decay, as if the life had been drained from them the moment they entered.

Rachel stepped forward, eyes narrowing at the doorway. "We've found the source."

"But not the reason," George said, his voice low, almost reverent.

The group stood silently, staring at the unnatural monument as the mist twisted skyward, vanishing into the canopy above like a signal to something far worse.

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