Far beneath the forest canopy, the hidden city remained awake.

The arrival of the messengers from the Black Fang Clan had sent ripples through every district of the settlement. Torches burned brighter than usual along the roads, and runners hurried from one section of the city to another carrying orders. Workshops that would normally be quiet at this hour remained active. Smiths worked their furnaces. Guards doubled their patrols along the outer earthworks. Great wolves barked and growled from their enclosures, seemingly agitated by the sudden activity.

At the center of the city stood the Great Hall.

Unlike the buildings surrounding it, the hall had not been built by one generation. It had grown over centuries. Massive timber pillars supported a broad roof layered with hardened hides and carved wooden panels depicting ancient battles. Stone foundations reinforced its lower sections, and enormous totems lined the entrance, each representing one of the great clans of the forest.

Inside, a large circular chamber glowed beneath the light of numerous fire pits.

The chamber was dominated by a massive table carved from a single ancient tree trunk. A map had been etched into its surface, depicting rivers, mountains, valleys, and territories spread throughout the Forest of No Return. Colored stones and carved markers sat upon various locations, representing settlements, hunting grounds, and clan borders.

Seated around the table were seven giants.

They differed in appearance and clothing, but every one of them radiated authority.

At the head of the table sat the largest among them.

His name was Durok.

The High Chieftain of the Verdant Dominion.

He was over six meters tall, larger even than Gorthak. Thick black fur covered his body, though streaks of gray had begun appearing near his shoulders and neck. Heavy armor reinforced with iron plates protected his chest, and unlike the chiefs of the outer settlements, he wore a mantle made from the pelts of great forest predators.

His yellow eyes remained fixed upon the messenger kneeling before him.

The warrior looked exhausted.

He had traveled continuously for nearly two days.

Even so, his breathing remained steady.

He understood the importance of the information he carried.

Durok’s voice was deep enough to vibrate through the chamber.

"Speak."

The messenger swallowed.

"The Black Fang Clan has encountered outsiders."

Several giants exchanged glances.

The High Chieftain’s expression remained unchanged.

"What kind of outsiders?"

The messenger hesitated.

Then he realized how ridiculous his answer would sound.

Nevertheless, he answered.

"They rode a beast of steel through the sky."

Silence followed.

The crackling of the fire suddenly seemed very loud.

One of the chiefs frowned.

"You drank before coming here?"

"No, Chief."

Another giant folded his arms.

"Steel does not fly."

The messenger lowered his head.

"I witnessed it with my own eyes."

Nobody interrupted him this time.

Because the messenger belonged to the Black Fang Clan.

They did not send false reports.

Not regarding matters this important.

Durok finally spoke.

"Continue."

The messenger took a deep breath.

"The outsiders carried thunder."

Several chiefs frowned.

"They killed from afar. No arrows. No thrown spears. Their weapons produced flashes and loud sounds."

He swallowed again.

"Our warriors died without understanding what had struck them."

The chamber became quiet.

Very quiet.

The messenger continued.

"They also rode inside the flying beast."

That statement somehow sounded even more absurd than the previous ones.

One of the chiefs slowly rubbed his face.

The messenger continued anyway.

"They wore strange clothing. Their weapons were made entirely of metal. They fought with discipline."

At that, Durok’s eyes narrowed.

Discipline.

That word mattered.

Because discipline meant soldiers.

Not travelers.

Not adventurers.

Soldiers.

The messenger looked toward the High Chieftain.

"Chief Gorthak believes they will return."

Nobody spoke.

Because Gorthak was one of the oldest and most experienced leaders among the outer clans.

His judgment carried weight.

If he believed these outsiders would return...

Then they probably would.

Durok remained silent.

His large hand rested upon the carved map.

The Dominion had remained hidden for centuries.

Generations had lived and died beneath the protection of the forest.

Even the human kingdoms beyond the trees had forgotten they existed.

At least, that had been the assumption.

Apparently, they had been wrong.

One of the chiefs leaned forward.

"We should move against them immediately."

Several others nodded.

"Find them before they find us."

"Destroy the flying beasts."

"Take prisoners."

The discussion rapidly grew louder.

Voices overlapped.

Some advocated war.

Others urged caution.

One chief even suggested abandoning the outer settlements and retreating deeper into the forest.

Durok remained silent.

He simply listened.

His eyes occasionally shifted toward the messenger.

Eventually, he raised one hand.

The chamber immediately became quiet.

Authority.

Absolute.

No chief interrupted him.

"What exactly did Gorthak see?"

The messenger blinked.

Then immediately continued.

"They rescued their people."

Durok frowned slightly.

"Rescued?"

"Yes, High Chieftain."

The messenger carefully recounted the encounter.

The hidden observation post.

The wolves.

The patrols.

The attempted encirclement.

Then the arrival of the flying machine.

The messenger described the thunderous weapon mounted on its sides and how it had shattered trees and forced warriors to retreat.

When he finished, the chamber had grown completely silent.

No one looked eager for war anymore.

One chief slowly exhaled.

"It destroyed trees?"

The messenger nodded.

"Large trees."

Another chief looked unsettled.

No ordinary bow could accomplish that.

No spear.

No monster.

Even some magic struggled to achieve such destructive power.

The implications disturbed everyone.

Durok finally leaned back in his chair.

He looked thoughtful.

Very thoughtful.

The outsiders had not attacked the settlement.

They had not attempted to capture territory.

They had rescued their own people and retreated.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

A civilization possessing such power could have caused immense destruction if it wished.

Yet according to the messenger...

They had not.

The High Chieftain’s eyes narrowed.

That suggested restraint.

Discipline.

Perhaps even caution.

The realization intrigued him.

One of the chiefs finally spoke.

"What are they?"

Nobody answered.

Because nobody knew.

The messenger swallowed.

"They looked human."

The chamber became quiet once more.

Human.

The word carried history.

Memories.

Wars.

The Verdant Dominion had once fought humans.

Long ago.

Before the Great Retreat.

Before the forests became their refuge.

Durok himself had not witnessed those conflicts.

But the stories endured.

Human kingdoms had feared them.

Hunted them.

Driven them from the western mountains.

That history remained alive within every clan.

The High Chieftain slowly looked toward the map.

He remembered those stories.

He also remembered another lesson passed down by his ancestors.

Humans changed.

Rapidly.

Faster than almost any other race.

The stories of old humanity spoke of swords and horses.

Now they possessed flying beasts and thunder weapons.

That transformation alone was enough to make him cautious.

Another chief suddenly frowned.

"If they are human... how many of them exist?"

Nobody answered.

Because that question frightened everyone.

The messenger spoke softly.

"The scouts reported roads beyond the western forests."

Silence.

"Fields."

Another.

"Large buildings."

Another.

"Many settlements."

The chamber became very quiet.

The chiefs slowly looked at one another.

Because if those reports were true...

Then the outsiders were not a wandering group.

They belonged to something much larger.

A civilization.

Perhaps a kingdom.

Perhaps many kingdoms.

Durok folded his hands together.

For the first time that evening, uncertainty appeared in his eyes.

Not fear.

Concern.

The Dominion numbered tens of thousands spread across numerous settlements.

They had survived because they remained hidden.

If humanity had reached a point where it could fly...

Then perhaps the outside world had become far more powerful than the one his ancestors remembered.

The thought unsettled him.

A younger chief finally broke the silence.

"What should we do?"

All eyes turned toward Durok.

The High Chieftain looked toward the fire.

For several moments, he said nothing.

He thought of Gorthak’s report.

The flying machine.

The thunder weapons.

The rescue.

Everything pointed toward one conclusion.

The age of secrecy had ended.

The forest had been found.

Eventually, he spoke.

"We prepare."

Several chiefs nodded.

A sensible answer.

But Durok wasn’t finished.

"We do not attack."

This time, several giants looked surprised.

One even frowned.

"We have been discovered."

"I know."

"They may return."

"I know."

"Then why wait?"

Durok slowly looked toward him.

Because we know nothing.

The answer never left his mouth.

It didn’t need to.

The chief immediately understood.

War against an unknown enemy was foolish.

Especially an enemy that possessed impossible technology.

The High Chieftain finally spoke.

"We gather information."

The chamber became quiet.

"Double patrols. Recall distant hunting parties. Strengthen the outer settlements."

He looked toward the messenger.

"And send word to Gorthak."

The warrior immediately bowed.

"What message shall I deliver?"

Durok’s gaze shifted toward the west.

Toward the world beyond the trees.

"Observe."

The chamber remained silent.

"Learn."

The fire crackled softly.

"And if they return..."

The High Chieftain’s yellow eyes hardened.

"Do not provoke them."

Several chiefs looked surprised.

Yet nobody objected.

Because everyone understood.

The unknown was dangerous.

Especially when it flew.

Far above the Great Hall, unseen by everyone inside, the MQ-9 Reaper continued circling through the darkness.

Its cameras recorded everything.

The movement of messengers.

The gathering of chiefs.

The increase in patrols.

The Dominion had no idea.

They believed the night protected them.

They believed distance concealed them.

They believed the sky was empty.

Meanwhile, inside Atlas Base, the drone operators watched the hidden capital on their monitors.

And for the first time in history...

Two civilizations were studying one another.

Both cautious.

Both curious.

Both preparing.

Neither fully understanding what the other truly possessed.

The first battle had not been fought with rifles or spears.

It had been fought with information.

And the war for information had only just begun.