And Marcus wanted to get back.

Back to Berm.

Back to the base.

Back to Elaina.

Back to a place where he could sit down for more than five minutes and actually think about what just happened.

The delivery was complete. The cargo was out of his hands. Fifty million kinah in gold coins was now secured inside his inventory along with the truck. The contract had ended cleanly.

But the route home was still a problem.

The Forest of No Return stood ahead of them like a wall.

Marcus stared at it for a few seconds longer before finally speaking.

"Yes," he said.

The pilot looked at him.

"Yeah?"

Marcus nodded.

"We’re going back over it."

The pilot exhaled through his nose.

"Figured."

The co-pilot, standing beside the truck, looked toward the forest and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Not gonna lie, boss. I was hoping you’d say we were taking the long route."

"The long route takes days," Marcus replied.

"And the short route almost got us killed."

Marcus looked at him.

The co-pilot paused, then gave a small nod.

"Fair point. We’re still alive."

"That’s the important part."

The pilot glanced toward the forest again.

"You got a plan this time?"

Marcus looked at the dark canopy.

A plan.

That was a generous word.

They had learned a few things during their first crossing. The forest reacted to intrusion. The tree monsters were territorial. The flying vultures stayed inside the border and refused to cross open land. The pressure got worse the deeper they went. The creatures could coordinate, but they had limits.

Those were not enough to guarantee safety.

But it was better than flying blind.

"We stay high," Marcus said. "No unnecessary hovering. No engagement unless something comes up. Straight line back to base."

The pilot nodded slowly.

"High and fast."

"Exactly."

"And if the flying things come back?"

Marcus paused.

Then looked at the crew.

"We don’t fight unless we have to. We outrun them."

The co-pilot frowned slightly.

"And if we can’t?"

Marcus didn’t answer immediately.

That answer already existed.

They all knew it.

If they couldn’t outrun them, they would fight again.

And if they had to fight again without the A-10 nearby, things would become very ugly very fast.

Marcus turned toward the M939.

The truck sat in the clearing, heavy tires pressing into the grass, the cargo bed empty now from the outside. It had done its part.

He placed his hand against the side of the vehicle.

A faint blue shimmer moved across the frame.

The M939 vanished.

One second it was there.

The next, it was gone, stored back into his inventory along with the gold chests still secured within it.

The clearing looked strangely empty afterward.

The co-pilot stared at the empty space.

"Still feels wrong seeing that."

"You said that before," the pilot said.

"And I’ll keep saying it until it feels normal."

"It won’t."

"Exactly."

Marcus ignored their exchange and stepped toward the center of the clearing.

He focused.

The air in front of him shimmered.

Then the shape began to form.

At first, it was only an outline. A faint blue frame suspended in the air, wide and long, taking shape piece by piece. Then the landing gear appeared, followed by the fuselage, the tail boom, the cockpit glass, the side doors, and finally the long rotor blades above.

The Black Hawk materialized fully in the clearing.

Its dark frame rested on the grass, solid and real, like it had been waiting there the entire time.

For a moment, no one moved.

Not because they were surprised.

They had already seen this many times.

But after the fight over the forest, seeing the helicopter again carried a different feeling.

This machine had carried them through hell.

The right side of the airframe still bore the marks of that fight. Scratches from the vulture attack ran along the frame near the cabin door. There were dents beneath the fuselage where claws had scraped against the metal. The paint was marred in several places, and one section near the side mount still had dried dark fluid from the creature Marcus had shot off the frame.

The helicopter had survived.

But it did not look untouched.

Marcus walked toward it slowly, eyes scanning the damage.

"Inspection," he said.

The crew moved immediately.

The jokes stopped.

The pilot and co-pilot climbed into the cockpit while the others moved around the aircraft. One checked the tail rotor assembly. Another inspected the landing gear. A third looked over the side door and mounts.

Marcus walked along the right side, running his eyes over the claw marks.

They were ugly.

But not deep enough to compromise the structure.

Good.

The pilot’s voice came from the cockpit.

"Power systems are responding."

The co-pilot followed.

"Navigation stable. No active warnings."

One of the crew near the tail called out.

"Tail rotor clear. No visible deformation."

Another slapped the side frame lightly.

"Right side damage looks cosmetic."

Marcus nodded.

"Fuel?"

The pilot checked the gauge.

"Enough to cross and reach base, but I wouldn’t waste time."

"We won’t."

The crew finished their checks within minutes. No one rushed, but no one dragged it out either. They all understood that staying near the forest edge too long was not smart.

Open land or not, none of them wanted to test how far that place could reach.

Marcus climbed into the cabin and grabbed a headset.

The interior smelled like metal, oil, and faint traces of old gunpowder. The M134 mounts were still empty. No fresh belts. No proper defensive supply.

That bothered him.

A lot.

He sat down and secured his harness.

The co-pilot glanced back from the front.

"You want to request support before crossing?"

Marcus thought about it.

The A-10 had already left the area earlier. Calling it back again was not impossible, but it would take time. They were not under attack yet.

And every minute sitting near the forest felt like giving it more chances to notice them.

"No," Marcus said. "We cross fast. If we get contact, we call."

The pilot nodded.

"Understood."

The engine started.

At first, there was only a low mechanical whine.

Then the rotor began to turn.

The blades picked up speed, cutting into the air with growing force. Grass flattened around the helicopter. Dust lifted from the ground, swirling outward in uneven waves.

Marcus looked through the open side of the cabin.

The Kingdom of Crentis was still visible in the distance, its walls small now beyond the fields. Somewhere inside those walls, Merchant May had the cargo. Somewhere behind them, rumors about the metal carriage were probably spreading through the city already.

None of that mattered anymore.

Their business in Crentis was done.

"Lifting," the pilot said.

The Black Hawk rose from the clearing.

The ground fell away beneath them.

The crew fell silent as the helicopter gained altitude. The clearing shrank, the low hill flattening into the surrounding land. The dirt road became a thin line leading back toward Crentis, while the fields spread out like patches of green and brown.

Ahead of them, the Forest of No Return waited.

The pilot climbed steadily.

One hundred meters.

Two hundred.

Three hundred.

The air grew thinner and cleaner as they rose.

Marcus leaned forward slightly.

"Take it higher."

The pilot glanced at the instruments.

"Four hundred?"

"Higher."

The pilot didn’t argue.

The Black Hawk continued climbing.

The forest below became less detailed the higher they went. The individual trees blurred together into a dense, dark mass. From this altitude, the canopy looked calmer.

But Marcus knew better now.

The co-pilot watched the instruments carefully.

"No interference yet."

"Good," Marcus said. "Keep watching."

The helicopter crossed the first edge of the forest.

Everyone felt it.

The change was subtle.

A pressure in the air.

A quiet heaviness pressing against the cabin.

Not as strong as before.

The pilot’s grip tightened slightly on the controls.

"Entering forest airspace."

Marcus almost laughed at the word.

Airspace.

As if the forest had its own territory.

Then again, maybe it did.

"Maintain speed," Marcus said.

"Copy."

The Black Hawk pushed forward.

This time, they did not circle.

They did not slow.

They did not descend.

They moved in a straight line over the forest, high above the canopy, with the nose aimed toward home.

Minutes passed.

Nothing rose or moved.

No tree monsters broke through the canopy.

No vultures climbed from the darkness.

Still, nobody relaxed.

The crew scanned every direction.

Marcus watched the canopy below.

The forest remained quiet, but he could not shake the feeling that it knew they were there.

Not chasing.

Not attacking.

Just watching.

The co-pilot spoke softly.

"Maybe we’re high enough this time."

Marcus kept his eyes down.

"Maybe."

The pilot gave a quiet breath.

"Not the most comforting answer."

"It’s the honest one."

They continued forward.

The Black Hawk cut across the forest like a small dark shape against the sky. Beneath them, the canopy stretched endlessly, broken only by faint scars from the earlier fight. Marcus spotted one of them in the distance, a dark patch where the A-10 had torn the monsters apart.

It was already being swallowed by green again.

That bothered him too.

The forest healed fast.

Too fast.

"Contact?" Marcus asked.

"Nothing on instruments," the co-pilot replied.

"Visual?"

The crew checked outside.

"Nothing left."

"Nothing right."

"Rear clear."

Marcus nodded once.

"Good, looks like we are in the clear."