Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee-Chapter 35: Blind Panic

Lola is still clinging to my sleeve, refusing to let me go.

So that’s what she felt? I look at Lola, a cold knot tightening in my stomach.

This kid’s intuition is terrifying.

Whatever is prowling around us isn’t just another mindless beast.

This is getting complicated.

If we get pinned down in a pointless firefight here, saving the silent girl is going to jump from "tactical suicide" to a statistical impossibility.

"Lola, stick close to me," I say, the urgency bleeding into my tone, killing any trace of my earlier sarcasm. "Veric, on my six. Move."

We plunge deeper into the Leviathan Ruins, and the atmosphere shifts instantly. The jungle here isn’t just dense; it’s suffocating. The humidity sits heavy in the lungs like dirty water, and the midday sun barely manages to pierce the ancient mahogany canopy, casting long, twisted shadows across the cracked stone paths.

There is no silence, only a constant, oppressive white noise—the drone of fist-sized insects, the endless dripping of condensation, the groaning of ancient wood, and the relentless screech of cicadas competing with the birds.

It’s the kind of environment that chews on a rookie cadet’s sanity.

Every rustling bush, every snap of a dry twig screams "ambush." It’s the visceral, clawing sensation of being hunted full-time, both by the distorted wildlife and by desperate kids with trembling fingers on their triggers.

FWOOSH.

Another red beam behind us. The sky bleeds. The whale answers. My guess was right. The ruins have turned into a full-blown warzone.

We keep pushing forward at a brutal pace. Lola, who would normally walk through a burning building while playing with a pebble, is visibly agitated. Her small shoulders are tense. A few more red flashes light up the distant skyline.

I narrow my eyes, straining to hear. There are smaller sounds scraping against the white noise of the forest. Three footsteps out of rhythm. The slide of fabric against bark.

Lola feels it, but she doesn’t know what it is. Veric, stomping along in his mud-caked heavy armor, hasn’t noticed a damn thing.

Then, the foliage explodes.

A three-man team. The first is an enemy rogue—fast, confident, and absolutely stupid. He leaps from the shadows directly at my neck, daggers drawn.

I don’t step back. I just spin the hilt of Eventide in my fingers like a bored juggler. When the kid reaches the apex of his jump, perfectly suspended in the air with nowhere to plant his feet, I squeeze the grip.

The solid shadow blade hums to life for exactly one second.

SHIIING.

​[OXI: 1,135/1,200]

I cut him in half at the waist before he even realizes he missed his target. The corpse detonates into crimson. The jungle drowns in red, and the whale’s lament follows—louder this time, closer, like it’s grieving directly above us.

A gasp. Then the sharp, clumsy sound of someone choking it back.

"Eleven o’clock!" I roar, snapping my head toward Veric. "Shield UP! NOW!"

Veric’s instincts take over. Thousands of hours of repetitive drills with highly paid private instructors don’t fail.

He doesn’t think. He doesn’t question. He just plants his feet in the mud and raises the metal wall a fraction of a second before impact.

TANG!

A massive ice spear collides with Veric’s shield, shattering with brutal force and showering the air around us with frozen shrapnel like deadly confetti.

Without losing his balance, Veric locks his eyes on the Cryomancer who just revealed himself behind a broken pillar. With a muffled grunt, Veric twists his torso and hurls his heavy shield like a siege discus.

The metal rim spins through the air and catches the mage dead in the face. The sickening crack of a shattering jaw echoes through the ruins.

The Cryomancer falls flat on his back, spitting blood, his eyes wide with terror. Before Veric’s shield even hits the ground, the mage crushes his escape flask against his chest and vanishes in a vortex of light.

Three-man formation. One down, one fled. A three-man formation never leaves a flank completely blind.

I sweep the perimeter, but I can’t spot him. The bastard is good at hiding.

"Lola," I say, keeping my voice low, my weapon raised. "Is there a noisy one trying to play hide-and-seek around here?"

She blinks her large eyes, her neutral expression shifting into a slight frown. "Annoying..." she mutters. Then, she points a thumb over her shoulder. "Behind me."

I don’t move my head. I think like a killer. If I were trying to backstab the enemy’s small child, where would I hide?

My eyes lock onto a thick patch of briar a dozen feet away. Through a tiny gap in the leaves, I meet the terrified gaze of a camouflaged cadet.

I don’t say a word. Don’t move a muscle. I just hold his stare, letting my eyes promise him that his next move will be the last thing he ever does.

The message is received.

A second later, his hand trembles, he breaks his flask, and the teleportation light swallows him whole. A coward, but a smart one.

"Shit," I think as I lower the Eventide hilt.

I hope he doesn’t leak our team comp or anything about Eventide.

I walk over to the remains of the halved Rogue, quickly looting the Echo fragment and the loose currency left behind. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

[Scales: 203 -> 275]

"Everyone in one piece?" I ask, turning to Veric and Lola.

But something feels out of place; I notice that the clicking sounds from my communications have vanished, heightening my sense of unease.

"We need to move. I just lit another damn red beacon over our heads. We can’t stay—"

My comms rune crackles.

A scream tears through the audio channel, stabbing directly into my ear.

I freeze. It isn’t a battle cry, and it isn’t the moan of someone giving up on the test. It is a guttural, ragged sound, fueled by a blind panic that drops the temperature of my blood to zero.

It is a sound I’ve never heard before, and one I never wanted to hear.

I drop my gaze to the HUD, checking the open channel.

It was Rhayne.