Chapter 51: Origin Treasure [ 2 ]

Jet and Frey followed Cassian’s Raid Team beneath a canopy already swallowing the last light of day.

The western horizon burned orange between the trunks, but inside the Thousand Boughs the shadows were lengthening quickly, pooling beneath roots and turning distant brush into dark walls.

Nobody wasted breath talking during the march. Cassian kept a steady pace at the front while two members ranged several meters ahead, periodically disappearing between trees before returning with silent hand signals.

The others maintained loose spacing around Jet and Frey without obviously surrounding them. Jet noticed that detail. Either Cassian had deliberately ordered his people not to make their guests uncomfortable, or this team had enough experience that sensible marching formation came naturally.

Neither possibility made Jet trust them, but both were better than incompetence.

Roughly forty minutes later, the forest began to thin. Jet smelled smoke first, faint beneath the damp scent of bark and earth, then noticed pale light flickering through the trees ahead.

Cassian pushed aside a hanging branch, and a broad clearing opened before them. The camp was considerably larger than Jet expected.

Nearly twenty people were visible before he finished counting, and that didn’t include Cassian’s group or whoever might currently be away. Low portable shelters formed an uneven semicircle around the clearing rather than a tight cluster, leaving open lanes between them for movement during an emergency.

Two smokeless field stoves burned near the center beside stacked water containers, while drying lines held washed cloth, bandages, and pieces of equipment.

Packs and sealed harvesting crates rested beneath waterproof covers. Weapons leaned within arm’s reach of almost everyone. A pair of Walkers worked over a damaged shield near one shelter, another cleaned blood from a spear, and three people sat around an unfolded map discussing something too quietly for Jet to hear.

The camp had defenses too. Thin warning cords disappeared between trees around the perimeter, some carrying tiny metal chimes while others connected to compact devices fixed close to the ground.

Several approaches had been cleared of brush, creating short sightlines into the forest, and two Walkers stood watch from raised roots on opposite sides of the clearing. This wasn’t a group that had thrown tents down wherever sunset caught them.

They had chosen the ground, established lanes, organized supplies, and prepared for something coming through the trees after dark. Jet’s attention shifted from one face to another. Some looked around Cassian’s apparent age. Others were younger.

Frey slowed beside Cassian and swept his eyes across the camp. "You know, when you said your Raid Team was bigger than the seven people who came to meet us, I pictured another handful. This is starting to look like enough people to solve most problems without recruiting two fresh 1-Stars you found cutting apart an ape."

The sentence sounded casual, but nobody within hearing distance could miss what he meant.

Cassian glanced sideways at him, that same calm smile returning. "And yet you followed us here anyway. Look at the bright side, Frey. If twenty-something armed Walkers had invited you into the forest because we wanted your backpacks, we wouldn’t have needed a story about fruit. We could have saved everyone forty minutes of walking."

Frey’s eyes narrowed at the smiling man. Cassian simply continued toward the camp as though he hadn’t just acknowledged exactly what Frey had been thinking.

After two steps, Frey leaned toward Jet and lowered his voice. "Bro, I don’t trust this dude at all. That smile is unsettling. Every time he answers a question, I somehow feel less threatened and more threatened at the same time."

Jet’s lips curled upward. "Maybe Vritra is warning you. Snakes recognize their own kind, don’t they? Shifty, patient, always looking harmless until something gets close enough to bite."

Frey stopped for half a step and stared at him. "Did you just compare me to this man because my Divine Rune is a serpent?"

Jet shrugged. "I didn’t say the Rune was responsible for all of it."

The glare Frey gave him promised future retaliation, but before he could answer, a booming voice crossed the clearing. "Cassian! You finally decided to stop wandering around before we had to send someone looking for you?"

A broad man approached from beside one of the central shelters, wiping his hands on a cloth as he came. He appeared close to Cassian’s age, perhaps late thirties by appearance, though Jet immediately suspected that meant very little here.

He stood well over six feet with a thick neck, heavy shoulders, and the compact muscular build of someone who had spent decades carrying armor rather than posing in it. His dark brown hair was cropped close to his scalp, and a short beard covered the lower half of a square face marked by an old burn along the right cheek.

Heavy segmented armor protected his chest and forearms, but he’d removed the shoulder pieces while resting. A long polearm with a crescent-shaped blade leaned against the shelter behind him.

Cassian greeted him with a clasp of forearms before gesturing toward Jet and Frey. "Perfect timing. These are the two Walkers I mentioned on the way back. Jet and Frey. Boys, this is Marcus. First Generation, professional complainer, and one of the people responsible for keeping this Raid Team alive when our captain decides that caution is a personal insult."

Marcus barked out a laugh and offered Jet his hand first. His grip was firm without turning the greeting into some pointless strength contest. "Good to meet you. Ignore half of what Cassian says and question the other half. We really could use the extra hands tomorrow, though. Scouts counted the pack again this afternoon, and unless several of those monsters conveniently die in their sleep, we’re going to have an ugly morning."

Frey shook his hand next. "That’s reassuring."

"It wasn’t meant to be," Marcus replied, still amicable. "Better you know what you’re considering before you step into it."

Jet liked that answer more than false confidence. Around them, several members of the Raid Team had noticed the newcomers, but nobody crowded around asking questions.

A woman carrying bundled arrows gave Cassian a nod before continuing toward the perimeter. Two younger men briefly looked at the Vorpal Blade behind Jet’s waist, whispered something between themselves, then returned to repairing a torn backpack.

Whatever curiosity Jet and Frey generated wasn’t enough to interrupt preparations. The entire camp carried the subdued energy of people expecting serious combat tomorrow.

Cassian looked toward the eastern edge of the clearing, where the forest had already become a wall of blue-black shadow. "Our captain isn’t here yet. She’s keeping an eye on the Origin Treasure and the pack with two scouts. The monsters haven’t moved far from the tree, but she doesn’t want to assume they’ll politely remain where we left them overnight."

He turned back toward Jet and Frey. "You’ll meet her tomorrow morning. She’s the one who’ll finalize the operation, explain the formation, and record everyone’s shares before anyone leaves camp. Until then, there’s nothing useful to gain by walking around in the dark."

Jet glanced at the camp again. "How many people are actually part of the operation?"

"Twenty-nine if you include both of you," Cassian answered immediately. "Twenty-seven from our current Raid Team. Three are away right now: the captain and two scouts. Most of us are First Generation Walkers, but not everyone. We have several Second Generation Awakeners who joined after the Red Moon, and tomorrow’s formation will account for experience as much as Star Rank. Nobody is getting thrown into the front because their number looks impressive on a Status Panel."

That explained part of what had bothered Jet. Twenty-seven people sounded like overwhelming numbers until the enemy count entered the equation: more than thirty Lesser Monsters and two Greater-ranked leaders.

If the captain had to contain both Greater Monsters, everyone else still needed to prevent the Lesser pack from surrounding her while maintaining their own formation.

Numbers stopped looking excessive very quickly when injuries, support roles, scouts, ranged fighters, and the simple chaos of combat were considered.

Marcus hooked the cloth he’d been carrying through his belt. "We’ve got spare space near the southern side if you want to put your shelter up there. It’s inside the warning perimeter but far enough from everyone that you won’t wake up with strangers breathing on you. Water’s been checked, food is your own unless you want to contribute to the communal pot, and watch rotations are already assigned. Since you’re guests tonight, nobody’s putting you on one."

Frey looked toward the indicated corner. "That’s unexpectedly civilized."

Marcus grinned. "Give it time."

Cassian shook his head. "Get some rest. Tomorrow you can inspect the Origin Treasure from the observation point before agreeing to anything. If what you see doesn’t match what I told you, walk away. If it does, we’ll discuss shares with the captain and decide whether we’re hunting together."

Jet nodded. "Works for us."

He and Frey moved toward the southern edge of camp, choosing a patch beneath an enormous tree whose roots rose from the ground like low walls. They didn’t bother fully assembling the portable shelter yet.

The evening remained dry, and both wanted to eat before darkness settled completely.

Jet dropped his reinforced backpack against one root, sat with his back protected by the wood, and removed two preserved ration packets. Frey settled opposite him, placing his twin blades beside his thigh rather than farther away with the rest of his equipment.

For a while they ate without speaking. The camp slowly changed around them as daylight vanished.

One patrol returned through the western perimeter.

Someone replaced the damaged shield strap Jet had noticed earlier. The field stoves were lowered until their light barely carried beyond the center of camp, and conversations softened as people prepared for night.

Nothing about the place looked improvised or predatory.

That didn’t mean Jet intended to become careless. His backpack stayed within reach, the Vorpal Blade remained across his lower back, and he quietly noted which routes through the clearing remained open if they needed to leave quickly.

Frey swallowed a mouthful of preserved meat and glanced toward Cassian, who was speaking with Marcus over the central map. "I still don’t trust him."

Jet opened another ration packet. "You don’t need to. We verify the tree tomorrow, hear the captain’s terms, and decide based on what we actually see. If anything changes from what Cassian promised, we leave."

"And if everything checks out?"

Jet paused.

The words Origin Treasure returned immediately to his mind. He knew enough to understand why an entire Raid Team was willing to challenge two Greater Monsters and a pack of Lessers for whatever grew on that tree.

They had entered the Thousand Boughs expecting a week of steady hunting, Monster Cores, and incremental progress. Something capable of making experienced First Generation Walkers organize an operation this large was another matter entirely.

Jet looked beyond the camp toward the dark forest where the captain and her scouts were watching the monsters.

A faint anticipation settled beneath his caution.

Tomorrow, he would finally see the Origin Treasure for himself.