With renewed resolve, Sasha lifted her gaze, her trembling stilled as confidence finally settled over her. She carried a woven club of ropes at the ready, while her enchanted elastic whip rested at her waist, secured by the sash of her attire.
It had been some time since Willow entered the camp, and she was nowhere in sight — likely locked in battle with an enemy of her own. Alone, Sasha found a hidden vantage point and crept forward, shifting from shadow to shadow. She observed the soul‑beings carefully, moving between cover, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash her strike from concealment.
It was from one of these hiding spots that Sasha spotted her first enemy. The soul‑being moved steadily toward her, completely unaware of the danger lurking ahead. Sasha was relieved that her emotions were finally in check, her fear no longer weighing her down.
When the soul‑being closed within a few meters, she burst from concealment. The creature froze, dazed by her sudden appearance, its mind struggling to register what had happened. That brief pause was all Sasha needed — more than enough time to unleash a strike with precision and resolve.
Sasha cracked her whip and aimed it at the soul‑being. Crack! The attack was unleashed, and by the time the strike reached its target, the soul‑being finally registered what was happening — but it was already too late.
The strike connected with brutal precision, inflicting terrible pain and leaving the bones around the impact frail and weakened. Staggering, the soul‑being reeled backward several meters before crashing violently against a massive stone. The impact splintered his frame further, trailing cracks across his bones, and with a hollow groan he collapsed to the ground, broken and disoriented.
The moment Sasha saw her foe collapse, she rushed forward without hesitation. Her whip cracked again and again, each strike relentless, until the soul‑being finally surrendered, its strength drained away. Severely weakened, it could no longer rise, its body trembling in defeat. Sasha stepped closer, now within reach, and raised her woven club.
With grim determination, she bashed its skull repeatedly until the creature was destroyed, fragments scattering under her blows. The instant it was gone, Sasha fled the open expanse, diving back into the shadows, her heart pounding as survival instincts pulled her deeper into concealment.
She could hardly believe what she had just done. Victory surged through her, painting her face with a storm of emotions she could not name. For the first time, she had triumphed alone — without aid, without guidance — and shattered the skeletal framework of a soul‑being in mere moments.
It was a new, intoxicating experience, one that revealed the truth of what she could achieve as a dark elf. The speed, the strength, the raw power had always been within her, but this was the first time she had depended on them fully, on herself, to save her own life.
Almost immediately after her first victory, another soul‑being approached. Yet this time Sasha did not falter. Brimming with resolve, she steadied herself, the triumph of her first kill burning like fire in her veins.
No longer hiding in fear, she trusted her instincts, quickly formulating a plan. With her woven club raised before her and her enchanted whip secured at her side, she advanced with purpose. Confidence carried her steps as she began her assault, determined to prove that her survival was no accident but the result of her own strength.
***
Just as Sasha — one of the weakest of the exiles — found herself battling a few soul‑beings, albeit weaker than the dreaded skeleton knights and liches, so too did Young. But unlike Sasha, Young was in serious trouble.
He was surrounded by several soul‑beings, their hollow eyes fixed upon him, and he was not alone. Beside him stood Nect, fighting shoulder to shoulder. Young cursed under his breath, bitterness rising as he tried to recall how he had stumbled into such an unfortunate predicament.
The odds pressed heavily against them, and every heartbeat felt like it could be their last.
Willow crouched behind a jagged rock, her curving form concealed beneath battle attire, though the sun betrayed her showing glimmers of her radiant skin. Young, perched atop a plateau, had a sweeping view of the camp below, his figure hidden by scattered stones.
He longed to remain there, admiring the fleeting beauty around him, especially Willow's presence as she fought in the upcoming chaos. Still, yet another beauty—Sasha lay a few meters beneath him, flat against the sand, using the dunes to obscure her shape.Three exiles, each hidden in their own way, watched the soul‑beings' camp with wary eyes, waiting for the moment to strike.
However, while Sasha's figure was hidden from the dreadful soul beings, it was not hidden from Young's line of sight. Although his vision was not what it used to be, Young was still able to enjoy the beauties around him. He glanced in every direction, drinking in the alluring sights before him, before finally closing his eyes to keep the images engraved into his mind. It was a fleeting sanctuary where his perverted mind could run wild, conjuring vivid, illicit fantasies of exactly what he wished he could do to them.
It was as he was busy closing his eyes and enjoying these imaginations that he pushed a few rocks that were blocking him from view. The stones gave way beneath his weight, and with nothing holding the force of his hands, he tumbled past them. Immediately, he sensed the terrifying loss of gravity. He opened his eyes just in time to see himself crash-land on the ground. His body ached all over, and blood was seeping from a few wounds that had opened across his body. However, the only injury that gave the perverted old man a surprised look was the blood coming from his nose; he was genuinely surprised to see the crimson liquid dripping from his nostrils, a bizarre testament to his overactive thoughts even in agony.
Young was astonished to still be alive. He nearly congratulated himself and his battered body for preserving his life, when he looked upward to gauge the "immeasurable" height he had fallen from. To his shock, the drop was not nearly as vast as he had imagined. The plateau loomed just above his head, close enough to make him question his senses. Startled, he wondered if the land itself had shrunk in mere minutes, or if the fall had scrambled his mind, twisting his vision into something strange and unreal. He was certain it was the latter — yet when he glanced around, something else startled him even more.
What Young had thought was an immeasurable drop was, in truth, only a short kilometer — yet the ground still stretched far beneath him. The plateau he had tumbled from loomed directly above his head, close enough to remind him how little distance he had truly fallen. He was not startled by the fact that the height wasn't so long, for he was still high above the plateau, just no longer upon it. What unsettled him was the sudden absence of Willow. A moment before, her figure had been hidden behind the rocks, but now she was gone. Confusion gnawed at him as he wondered where she had vanished, what fate had claimed her. His answer came when he spotted Sasha's graceful form moving swiftly in the same direction Willow had taken.
It became clear she had likely entered the soul‑beings' camp, already striking down stragglers or preparing to pillage their resources in search of precious life energy.