Chapter 702: We’re All Human

The plane fell quiet.

The last echo of the hammer faded into the dark, and the dust drifted slowly down over the shattered remains of the three Fallen.

Rusted chains lay in tangled heaps across the stone.

Gray bone fragments were scattered in every direction, and the green glow that had burned in their sockets was gone for good.

For a long moment, no one moved.

Then, one by one, the party sank to the ground.

The Lancer dropped onto a flat rock and let her spear rest across her knees. The Hunter slid down against the boulder, his head tipped back, his chest heaving.

The Wind Mage lowered herself beside him with trembling arms. Their clothes clung to their skin, soaked with sweat. Beads of it ran down their faces and dripped onto the gravel.

Every breath came hard and ragged, as though they had just surfaced from deep water. But the relief on their faces could not be hidden.

A few of them were smiling without seeming to know it. The Healer wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, and the Lancer let out a short, breathless laugh.

They were alive.

Thoren stood a few steps away, his arms resting at his sides. Behind him, the undead Storm Tyrant stood motionless, its massive hammer planted on the ground.

The cracks across its armor glimmered faintly and its soul fire burned in the hollows of its eyes with an eerie, steady glow.

It looked completely menacing, and utterly terrifying.

The party could not stop glancing at it.

Their eyes slid toward the undead again and again, then darted away, then returned, as if they were afraid it might move.

Each time the soul fire flickered, someone’s breath caught. Then their gaze would drop to the three crushed corpses of the Fallen, and a cold shiver would run through them.

The creatures that had nearly killed them had been broken in a matter of minutes, and it had been done by the thing standing quietly behind this silver-haired young man.

The Berserker and the Wind Mage exchanged a subtle glance.

Neither of them spoke. After a moment, the Berserker pushed himself up with a grunt and cleared his throat softly.

He turned toward Thoren and straightened his back despite the pain. Blood still stained his arms, and his axe hung loose in his hand, but he lowered his head in a deep, sincere bow.

"Thank you for saving us..." he said genuinely, his voice rough but steady.

Behind him, the others followed his example.

The Lancer rose and bowed with her hand pressed to her chest. The Hunter lowered his head, and the Wind Mage bowed deeply, her tired eyes shining.

Even the Healer shifted, her eyes filled with genuine appreciation. They all knew without Thoren’s undead, they all would have fallen here today.

None of them were delusional enough that they think they could escape from the clutch of the falling.

Thoren waved his hand dismissively.

"It’s nothing," he said casually. "We’re all human, and our goal is to leave this forsaken world."

The party looked up at him.

Only the dim glow of the undead Storm Tyrant’s soul fire lit the plain, and in that pale, flickering light, they saw the calm in his face.

A look of respect settled over each of them.

Here was someone who had just saved them from death, and he spoke as though it were nothing more than a favor between neighbors.

The Lancer’s eyes softened and the Hunter lowered his gaze, almost embarrassed. Even the Healer couldn’t help but pressed her hand to her chest.

"You’re right," the Berserker said, nodding slowly. "That is the goal of everyone."

He straightened and tapped his chest with a closed fist.

"I’m Brandt, and we’re Pathfinders from Scarwind Camp."

"I’m Thoren, also from Scarwind Camp." His expression did not change. "Nice to meet you all."

The party blinked.

A few of them exchanged looks, and a thread of surprise ran through the group. A fellow resident of the camp, and one they had never seen before.

The Wind Mage studied him, her brows drawn together. She glanced past him into the dark, then back at his face.

"Are you all alone out here?" she asked, and her voice trembled with shock and disbelief. She caught herself quickly. "My bad. You can call me Lysa."

Thoren turned toward her and gave a small nod.

"Yes..."

He paused, and his eyes drifted briefly across the dark plane.

"And I’m lost. I don’t know the way back to the camp."

Silence.

The party stared at him.

Their mouths parted, and their eyes widened as if they had misheard.

The Hunter’s jaw dropped.

The Lancer’s grip tightened on her spear, and the Healer’s lips moved without sound. Lysa pressed her hand to her mouth.

Alone, deep in a dangerous plain where three Fallen had nearly wiped out eight Pathfinders, and worse.

He was here, lost.

They looked at the silver-haired young man, then at the undead standing quietly behind him, and then at each other.

None of them knew what to say.

"Are you serious?" Brandt asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

He stared at Thoren as if he had just told him the ground was made of water.

Since the day he became a Pathfinder, Brandt had met all kinds of awakeners. He had seen the terrified, the reckless and the desperate.

But this was the first time he had ever heard someone say he was lost in this plane and sound so casual about it.

The Hunter and the Lancer shared a look. The Healer’s mouth hung slightly open.

"Do you know how dangerous this zone is?" Lysa added, her voice rising. She swept her arm toward the shattered Fallen scattered across the stone.

"These three alone almost killed all eight of us. We are Pathfinders. We came here prepared, and we still nearly died."

"I know..."

Thoren’s expression did not change. The dim glow of the undead Storm Tyrant’s soul fire danced across his face, and his eyes remained calm.

"But what can I do?" He shrugged.

The gesture was so light and so unbothered that Lysa could only blink at him. Brandt rubbed the back of his neck and let out a short, helpless breath.

Thoren looked from one face to the next, and a faint, almost casual smile touched the corner of his lips.

"Now that our paths have crossed," he said, "I believe you are going to help me find my way back to the camp."