Belamus gave a faint nod, then turned and began walking, his steps deliberate, his senses razor-sharp. He headed back toward the previous campsite where he’d conjured their temporary shelter. But his focus wasn’t on recovering anything; his attention was on the wind, the branches, the soil beneath his boots, and every shift of sound or subtle movement around him.
If they’re going for Mimi instead… I need to know immediately.
Then—there. A sound, distant but distinct. A footfall, maybe. Something moving through the underbrush. It was drawing closer.
He slowed his pace and shifted into a defensive stance, summoning a shimmering magical barrier around him with a brief incantation. Whether it was a monster or something worse, he would be ready.
Suddenly, they appeared.
Five dwarves in dark, unobtrusive clothing emerged from the shadows, fanning out around him with silent precision. There was no mistaking their presence; these were assassins. The ones Mimi warned us about.
Belamus could tell at a glance that they were no mere thugs. They moved like predators, patient and practiced. They all dual-wielded knives, but as he’d anticipated, there were no guns. The dwarves wouldn’t risk alerting the rest of the group. Stealth was key.
One of them lunged without warning—fast, far faster than most would expect from a dwarf. A heartbeat later, the others followed, converging in a deadly synchronized assault. It was a well-rehearsed maneuver, designed to overwhelm even a skilled opponent with sheer timing and angles.
On anyone else, it might have worked.
Belamus didn’t even flinch. The magical barrier surrounding him flared to life, catching the flurry of blades with crystalline force. Sparks danced against the shimmering wall of light as every strike was cleanly deflected. Not a single blade reached him.
The assassins had made a mistake. A small one, barely a crack in their formation, but Belamus saw it, and that was all he needed. He loosed a Light Arrow, not toward the heart or head, but down low, straight for the legs. He wasn’t aiming to kill. If these men were after Mimi, then someone had sent them, and he needed answers, not corpses.
The glowing projectile struck one of the dwarves squarely in the thigh, dropping him with a grunt. The moment it hit, the others bolted. No hesitation. No dramatic cries of vengeance. Just a clean, practiced retreat. Belamus watched them vanish into the tree line, lips tightening.
They’ve done this before.
This wasn’t some reckless band of heavies—they were trained, experienced, and pragmatic enough to abandon a fallen comrade the second the tide turned. But that didn’t come from ruthlessness alone. It came from trust. Trust that the one they left behind wouldn’t talk. Belamus frowned, the thought unsettling. They’ve probably been conditioned to resist torture.
He hated where his mind went next. Back to the war. Back to a different life, another name. Back when he’d done things—interrogations, methods he’d rather never remember. He still could, if he let himself. The screams, the blood, the blank-eyed silence that came after. He didn’t want to go back to that. He couldn’t. Not now.
He also couldn’t let them walk away without learning who was behind this. If he couldn’t root out the rest of the dwarves following them, he’d never find Gagagamoor’s hideout. Without that, there was no way to guarantee Mimi’s safety. Gregald certainly wouldn’t tolerate letting enemies get that close to their base. No matter how Belamus felt about it, this couldn’t end with silence.
He approached the downed dwarf, conjuring a strand of glowing Magic Thread that wound itself tightly around the man’s limbs. The wound in his leg was deep, leaking blood into the grass, but the dwarf showed no sign of pain. His expression was unreadable, but seemingly calm and detached. Belamus narrowed his eyes. That kind of composure wasn’t natural. It was trained. Conditioned.
“You’re after Mimi, aren’t you?”
The dwarf said nothing. Just stared back, unblinking.
Belamus studied him a moment longer, then began his barrage. “Where did they run off to? Were those your only allies, or are there more? How many of you are there in total? Who’s giving you orders? Where’s your commander now? Is there anyone from your team I should be especially wary of? What weapons do they use? What’s their preferred fighting style?”
Still nothing. Not a word. Not a flicker of emotion. Belamus let out a slow breath and raised one hand.
A second Light Arrow crackled into being, streaking past the dwarf’s face with a high-pitched hiss. It missed by inches, but it wasn’t meant to hit.
“You won’t live long enough to rejoin your allies unless you start talking,” Belamus said coldly, his voice sharp as drawn steel, and just as merciless. Belamus let the threat hang in the air like the final toll of a bell. It was a clear warning—implied execution—but the dwarf didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch in his brow, not the faintest sign of fear.
He’s good. Too good, Belamus thought grimly. Even torture might not break him.
This man wasn’t just trained; he was hardened. Every inch of him screamed discipline. And worse, he might choose death over capture if given even a sliver of opportunity. A suicide pill. A hidden blade. A spell with a trigger phrase… Belamus had seen it all before.
He wasn’t about to take that risk.
He wove more strands of Magic Thread, reinforcing the bindings until the dwarf couldn’t so much as quiver. Then he altered the spell’s properties, imbuing the thread with levitation. The assassin lifted gently off the ground, floating like a marionette with its strings pulled taut. In this state, there’d be no chance of escape—or self-inflicted death.
Belamus remained alert as he moved, wary of any attempt at an ambush. The other assassins might have fled, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t return with reinforcements or try to strike from the shadows again. He kept his senses sharp, scanning the terrain as he made his way back to the others with the captured dwarf hovering beside him.
He wasn’t even halfway through the clearing when a familiar voice called out.
“Ah, Belamus, you’re back—wait, what is that?!” Delarosa’s eyes went wide as she caught sight of the floating prisoner. She stumbled back a step, more out of sheer disbelief than fear.
“As I suspected,” Belamus said calmly, “we were being tailed. There were four others, but they slipped away.”
“You suspected? Hold on, you said you were going back for something you forgot!” Gregald’s voice cracked like a whip, stunned and indignant all at once.
Belamus shrugged, unfazed. “I did. And I also confirmed we were being tracked. Worked out rather well, don’t you think?”
“You’re insane,” Mimi muttered under her breath, somewhere between admiration and exasperation. “Then again, you’re you, so maybe this doesn’t even count as reckless anymore.”
Liza stepped forward, her brow furrowed with concern. “Still… Lord Belamus, you could have at least warned us. What if something had happened to you?”
“If I’d said anything, they might have realized we were onto them,” Belamus replied evenly. “Then we wouldn’t have caught anyone at all. As it stands, we have a prisoner. I’d say it was the best possible outcome.”
Liza bit her lip but didn’t argue further. The others exchanged glances, some impressed, others worried, but none could deny the results. Belamus had walked into danger alone, but he’d returned not just alive, but with a captive assassin in tow.
“So, that man’s one of the assassins, right?” Gregald asked, eyeing the floating dwarf grimly. “Did you manage to get anything out of him?”
“Not yet,” Belamus replied, his arms crossed. “Tried a bit of intimidation. He didn’t so much as blink.”
Gregald let out a slow breath, not surprised. “Makes sense. I’d wager he’s part of the Dwarven Royal Guard, one of their elite units. They’re trained to keep their mouths shut, even under torture.”
Belamus gave a quiet nod. “That’s what I figured.”
He glanced back at the prisoner, his mind already turning. If the man wouldn’t talk, what then? Clearly, he had no value as a hostage; his allies had abandoned him without hesitation. But that didn’t mean he was useless. People changed. A moment of weakness, a lapse in vigilance, a calculated gamble… it wasn’t impossible. And so long as the dwarf remained bound and suspended, the risk of escape was minimal.
“We’ll keep him,” Belamus said decisively. “There’s still a chance he’ll crack. He’s no burden to us, not like this. In that state, he’s not going anywhere.”
No one objected.
“But the others might still be following us,” Belamus continued, scanning the woods. “If we move now, they might track us all the way to the Gagagamoor hideout. We’ll have to intercept them eventually.”
Delarosa frowned. “You think we can do that quickly?”
Belamus hesitated. “Honestly? Probably not. They’re professionals. And after tonight, they’ll be more cautious than ever.”
Gregald didn’t flinch. “That’s fine. My orders are clear: if we find someone like Lady Mimi, one of the Blessed, we’re to bring them in immediately. No delays.”
Belamus raised a brow. “Even if it means exposing your base to the enemy?”
Gregald met his gaze without hesitation. “Yes. That’s how urgent this is.”
That answer gave Belamus pause. For a covert organization like Gagagamoor, having its location compromised could be catastrophic. It spoke volumes that Gregald was willing to take that risk.
They must be desperate, Belamus thought. Something is forcing their hand.
Then the pieces fell into place. The calamity… the one said to befall the Kingdom of Crystia if Mimi isn’t protected.
If that threat was real—and Belamus was starting to believe it was—then time was their most precious resource.
He looked toward the others, then gave a firm nod. “Then let’s move,” he said. “Stay sharp. We’re heading out.”
And with that, they set off again, ignoring the invisible eyes they suspected still watched them from the shadows, gambling everything on speed and the hope they wouldn’t arrive too late.