The Dark Warlock's Game

Chapter 31: Unseen Threats

“There”,  Vardy said, pointing toward the structure.

The group halted at the edge of the clearing, staring at the dilapidated outpost in uneasy silence.

“Looks abandoned,” Tracy said, though her tone betrayed her wariness.

“Abandoned places have a way of not staying abandoned,” Luthor muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of a knife he barely knew how to use.

Vardy stepped forward, his staff glowing faintly as he drew power from the artifact. The undead minions following him, hulking, grotesque forms reanimated from their last encounter, moved silently behind him, their glowing eyes scanning the area.

“Stay alert,” Vardy said, his voice barely above a whisper.

As they approached the outpost, the silence became oppressive, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional creak of the wind through the old wooden beams. Vardy pushed open the gate, the rusted metal groaning loudly, and stepped inside.

The interior looked as the exterior, with broken furniture scattered across the ground.

“This place looks like it hasn’t been used in decades,” Tracy said, stepping carefully over a collapsed beam.

“Or someone wants us to think that,” Ferah countered, her hand resting on the hilt of her greatsword.

Vardy ignored them, his eyes scanning the room. Something was off. He could feel it in the aira faint, almost imperceptible energy that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Spread out,” he ordered. “Search for anything useful. Weapons, maps, anything that looks out of place.”

The group moved cautiously, each person taking a different corner of the outpost. Vardy made his way to what appeared to be a desk, its surface covered in dust and debris. He brushed away the grime, revealing a series of faded documents.

“What is it?” Tracy asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Not sure yet,” Vardy replied, flipping through the papers. Most were too damaged to read, but one caught his attention, a map with several locations circled in red.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the map. One of the marked locations was dangerously close to Haven City.

“Dean,” he murmured, the name leaving his lips like a curse.

Before he could examine the map further, a sudden noise shattered the stillness. A low growl echoed through the outpost, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps.

“We’ve got company,” Ferah said, drawing her sword.

Vardy stuffed the map into his satchel and turned toward the noise. A figure emerged from the shadows, its form twisted and unnatural. The creature’s skin was pale and translucent, its bones visible beneath the surface. It let out a guttural snarl, revealing jagged teeth dripping with saliva.

“Vagrant,” Vardy said, raising his staff.

More figures emerged, their glowing eyes fixed on the group. They moved with an unnatural gait, their limbs jerking with each step.

“Tracy, Luthor, fall back,” Vardy commanded. “Ferah, with me.”

The first Vagrant lunged forward, its claws outstretched. Vardy reacted instantly, sending a blast of dark energy toward it. The creature howled as the energy struck, its form dissolving into ash.

Ferah charged at another, her blade cutting through the air with precision. The creature screeched as the sword cleaved through its torso, but more Vagrants appeared, pouring in from the shadows like a flood.

“There’s too many!” Luthor shouted, panic evident in his voice.

“Hold your ground!” Vardy barked, his staff glowing brighter as he summoned his undead minions.

The reanimated Essentrias moved to intercept the Vagrants, their grotesque forms clashing with the enemy in a violent display of claws and teeth. The room erupted into chaos, the sound of battle echoing off the walls.

Tracy fought to hold her position, her spear darting forward to keep the creatures at bay. Luthor, though visibly terrified, threw whatever he could find, rocks, broken pieces of furniture, at the advancing horde.

Vardy focused his energy, summoning a barrier of dark magic to protect the group. The strain was evident on his face, but he held firm, his determination unyielding.

“We need to end this now!” Ferah shouted, her sword cutting through another Vagrant.

Vardy nodded, his mind racing. He spotted a weak point in the wall, its structure already compromised by age and decay.

“Ferah, aim for the wall!” he commanded.

Without hesitation, Ferah redirected her attack, her blade slamming into the wall with incredible force. The structure groaned under the impact, cracks spreading rapidly.

“Everyone, out!” Vardy shouted.

The group retreated as the wall gave way, collapsing under its own weight. The remaining Vagrants were buried beneath the rubble, their snarls silenced.

The group emerged into the clearing, battered but alive. Vardy leaned against his staff, his breath heavy.

“That map better be worth it,” Tracy said, her voice laced with exhaustion.

“It is,” Vardy replied, pulling the map from his satchel. “It’s a lead on Dean’s location.”

The group exchanged glances, their resolve hardening despite their weariness.

“This isn’t over,” Vardy said, his voice cold and steady. “Not until Dean pays for everything he’s done.”

“We’re being watched…” Ferah said abruptly, halting mid-step. Her tone was sharp, leaving no room for doubt.

Vardy turned to her, gripping his staff tightly. “How close?”

“They’ve been tailing us for hours. Watching. Waiting,” she replied, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “And they’re getting bolder.”

Luthor sighed, slinging his pack to the ground. “Great. Just great. Stalked by shadowy creeps. As if this trip wasn’t fun enough already.”

Tracy frowned, her spear steady in her hands. “Do we know what they want?”

Vardy shook his head. “We don’t need to know. Not yet. But if they make a move, we end it quickly.”

The group fell silent. The forest no longer felt like the safe, if eerie, haven they had been traveling through. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches, felt deliberate, like a predator’s footfalls.

Vardy raised a hand. “We set a trap here. Let them think we don’t know they’re coming.”

Ferah smirked. “Finally. Something interesting.”

---

A few miles away, in the crumbling remains of a stone cottage, a young boy sat cross-legged on the floor. His hands clutched a worn book, its cover scratched and faded, but the stories inside were alive. By the flickering light of a lone candle, his lips moved silently, tracing the words of heroes and monsters, of battles and triumphs.

“Lucas!” a sharp voice called.

The boy flinched, snapping the book shut. He turned to see his sister, Elara, standing in the doorway. Her face was smeared with ash, her dark hair tied back hastily.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of that old junk? We don’t need stories, we need food!”

Lucas hugged the book to his chest. “Stories matter. They remind us what’s out there… and what could be.”

Elara sighed, stepping inside and lowering herself to his level. Her voice softened. “The only thing that matters is surviving. And we won’t do that if you sit here dreaming while the rest of us scavenge.”

A loud crack from outside shattered their moment. Elara froze, her body tense.

“What was that?” Lucas whispered.

“Stay here,” she said, grabbing a rusted dagger from the table.

---

The trap was set. Vardy and his group crouched low behind a cluster of thick bushes, their breaths shallow, their nerves frayed. The bait, a small fire surrounded by discarded supplies, burned faintly in the clearing, a glowing beacon for their stalkers.

It didn’t take long.

Shadows moved at the edge of the firelight, creeping closer with deliberate precision. The figures were cloaked, their faces obscured by dark hoods. There were four of them, each armed with weapons that gleamed in the flickering light.

Vardy counted their movements, timing his attack. One step closer. Two. Three…

“Now!” he shouted, springing to his feet.

The trap was sprung. Ferah charged forward, her sword a blur as it cut through the air. Tracy flanked the attackers, her spear thrusting with precision. Vardy’s undead minions emerged from the darkness, their hollow eyes glowing as they closed in on the intruders.

The stalkers were quick to react. The tallest of the group, a man wielding twin daggers, spun around to face Ferah. His movements were almost too fast to follow as he parried her strikes, his blades flashing dangerously close to her throat.

Another figure, smaller but no less dangerous, hurled a smoke bomb to obscure the battlefield. The clearing filled with choking black mist, forcing Tracy to retreat, coughing and wiping at her eyes.

“Cowards,” Ferah snarled, slashing through the smoke with her blade.

Vardy stood at the edge of the chaos, his staff glowing as he summoned a wave of dark energy. The blast cleared the smoke, revealing the attackers in their positions.

One of them, a woman with a crossbow, aimed directly at Vardy.

“Not today,” he muttered, raising a barrier just as the bolt shot toward him. The bow shattered against the dark shield, but the impact sent him stumbling backward.

“Vardy, behind you!” Luthor shouted.