Evolution begins with an ant colony

As the moonlit wolves lay defeated around them, Evan couldn't help but marvel at the prowess of Kalardix and his party. Their movements were like a finely choreographed dance, a symphony of grace, precision, and calculated strikes. Every step they took, every swing of their weapons, was executed with effortless perfection.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

It was as if they were born for this, born to battle these supernatural creatures.

Evan's eyes widened in amazement as he observed the group's seamless coordination. Their actions were not just impressive; they were mesmerizing. The way they handled the situation left him in awe, a newfound sense of security washing over him like a warm tide. In the presence of these formidable adventurers, the fear that had gripped his heart began to ebb away.

They weren't just warriors; they were masters of their craft.

Amid the aftermath of the battle, Mellin, usually icy and composed, approached Evan with an expression that revealed her hidden concern. Her piercing blue eyes, which had once held an air of detachment, now held a hint of worry as she extended her hand to help him up.

Evan took her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, and he couldn't help but notice the warmth of her touch, like a comforting ember in the chill of uncertainty.

With her assistance, Evan rose to his feet, gratitude welling up within him. His cheeks flushed slightly as he managed to utter, "Thank you," the words carrying a weight of sincerity that only heightened the connection between them.

As the group moved on from the battle, they began the meticulous task of extracting the valuable cores from the defeated moonlit wolves. Each adventurer approached the task with a level of expertise that spoke of years spent honing their skills. Their movements were fluid and purposeful, a testament to their collective experience as a formidable party. Read exclusive content at empire

It was as if they had rehearsed this choreography a thousand times, their synchronized efforts a sight to behold.

Once the cores were collected and securely stowed within small pouches, all eyes turned to Kalardix as he approached. Camilla, the enigmatic Demon King's general, was now securely bound in golden chains, a testament to their victory.

Kalardix's gaze shifted from Camilla to Evan, and he spoke with his customary calm but authoritative tone. "Are you the hero Camilla mentioned earlier?"

Evan nodded, his emotions swirling within him—a blend of bewilderment, anxiety, and curiosity. His voice, though tinged with uncertainty, remained steady as he replied, "Yes, I am."

A half-smile curled on Kalardix's lips, a glint of determination shining in his eyes. "Good," he said, his words carrying the weight of purpose. "Then I'll be killing two birds with one stone."

Before Evan could react, a blur of motion erupted from Kalardix. His hand moved with blinding speed, and before Evan could comprehend what was happening, darkness overtook him, and he lost consciousness.

"Hay Torin," Kalardix's voice called out from a distance, breaking through Evan's hazy awareness. "Go up to that cave and retrieve the bodies of his comrades. Gromm, follow him to provide support in case of any funny business. The rest of you are with me; we'll be heading out to see Father."

The scene around Evan blurred as he slipped deeper into unconsciousness, the enigma of Kalardix and his party becoming more profound with every passing moment.

With unwavering determination, Torin and Gromm swiftly complied with their leader's orders, forging their way up the treacherous mountain path toward the harrowing aftermath where Evan's party had met their tragic fate. As they approached the cavern's gaping maw, a sense of dread washed over them. It was as if the very walls of the cave bore witness to the brutality that had unfolded within.

The cave's interior was a haunting tableau of the recent carnage, a visceral reminder of the intensity of the battle that had transpired. Blood splatters adorned the rocky surfaces, forming a gruesome tapestry that told a macabre story of combat and sacrifice. The metallic tang of iron hung heavy in the air, an unsettling testament to the violence that had gripped this desolate chamber.

Torin's somber thoughts found voice as he muttered under his breath, his words laden with both awe and sorrow, "Darn, it's a bloodbath in here." His eyes, wide with a mixture of reverence and distress, darted around the cavern, taking in the chaotic aftermath before him.

Ever vigilant, Gromm's gaze pierced through the grim scene until it settled on two figures lying amidst the wreckage. Bram and Liara, though grievously wounded, clung tenaciously to the fragile thread of life. A furrow creased his weathered brow as he called out to Torin, concern etched across his rugged features. "Hey, Torin, over here," he urgently beckoned, his eyes never leaving the injured pair.

"These two are still breathing. Come, heal them."

Torin needed no further prompting. His purposeful stride carried him swiftly to the side of Bram and Liara. As he knelt beside them, his hands began to radiate with a soft, soothing glow—a testament to his mastery of the arcane arts of healing. His movements were deliberate, his fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air as he channeled his restorative magic.

The warmth of his healing enveloped Bram and Liara like a gentle embrace, and the miraculous transformation was evident. The jagged wounds that marred their bodies began to respond, the torn flesh knitting itself together. Their shallow, labored breaths gradually grew steadier and more even, a tangible testament to Torin's unparalleled skill.

Even in the midst of such dire circumstances, his power over life's mending forces was undeniable.

With Evan now securely in the custody of Kalardix, his comrades on the path to recovery, and the moonlit wolves vanquished, the group stood on the precipice of a new journey. Evan's destiny remained a question mark, and the enigmatic riddle of the Demon King's motivations cast a long shadow over their path. They understood that ahead lay an arduous road, fraught with challenges and uncertainties.

Yet, they pressed forward as one, driven by a shared purpose and fortified by the unbreakable bonds of camaraderie. In the depths of that cavern, their resolve echoed like a solemn vow—a promise to face whatever trials the future held as a united and unwavering force.

Evan's eyelids fluttered open, his vision slowly coming into focus. Disorientation washed over him as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He found himself lying on the ground, his body feeling heavier than it ever had before. A sense of profound weakness coursed through him, like an invisible weight pressing down on his very soul.

As he struggled to sit up, he took in the scene before him. Kalardix and his party were there, their expressions a mix of determination and anticipation. But Evan's gaze was inevitably drawn to a man who stood out from the rest. This man had silver hair that seemed to shimmer in the faint light, and he wore black armor infused with intricate purple energy.

His eyes, cold and piercing, locked onto Evan's as if dissecting his very essence.

Evan wanted to speak, to ask what was happening, but his voice seemed trapped in his throat, suffocated by a suffocating aura that radiated from this enigmatic figure. It was as if his very presence commanded silence and submission.

The man's name was Akun, and his presence exuded power and authority. His voice, when he finally spoke, sent shivers down Evan's spine. "As much as I'd love to handle you here and now," he began, his words laced with an unspoken threat, "I have more important matters to attend to."

Dread gnawed at Evan's insides. He couldn't help but wonder if this man, Akun, was the feared Demon King himself.

Akun's attention shifted from Evan to Camilla, who lay nearby, unconscious and bound in golden chains. With deliberate steps, Akun crouched beside her, his movements filled with a controlled grace that mirrored the predatory instincts of a wild beast. His hand moved with blinding speed, delivering a forceful slap that jolted Camilla awake, her face contorted in pain.

She began to protest, her voice defiant, "owwwww!" She exclaimed "That it was no way to treat a lady--" But before she could finish her sentence, Akun's cold voice cut through her words. "Shut up," he commanded, his tone brooking no disobedience. "I don't remember giving you permission to speak."

Camilla fell silent, her bravado extinguished by the aura of menace that surrounded Akun. She too felt an inexplicable weakness coursing through her body, wondering if it was the golden chains that bound her that sapped her strength. But her primary focus was on the imposing figure before her, a figure whose presence seemed even more intimidating than the Demon King's.

Suddenly, Akun spoke again, his voice a steel-edged whisper that demanded obedience. "Good girl," he said, acknowledging her compliance. "Seems you know how to follow instructions. Now, I will be asking you some questions, and I want you to answer... honestly."

Evan watched this interaction with a mixture of fear and curiosity. His mind raced with questions, the foremost being the identity of this man and the true purpose behind his enigmatic presence. As he struggled to comprehend the situation, he couldn't shake the feeling that they had entered a realm of uncertainty and danger unlike anything they had faced before.