The jungle thickened the deeper they went, the air damp and almost humming with malevolence. Dark vines slithered across the forest floor like living things, and the sun above was nothing more than a dim gray disk, swallowed by a canopy of gnarled branches. A sense of tension clung to them like a second skin.
Evon walked at the front, his Eyes of Fate glowing faintly beneath his lashes. Each step he took was guided by instinct sharpened by glimpses of possible futures. Naia walked beside him, her movements silent as flowing water. Sythara followed closely, wings tucked tightly, eyes scanning the underbrush. Lyria flanked their left side, a small trail of smoke curling from her fingertips as her temper flared at the tension. Veyra brought up the rear, her sensors sweeping the environment with precision.
"We're getting closer," Evon said, halting as he knelt to brush his fingers along a set of deep, clawed footprints embedded in the dirt. The edges still steamed with dark energy.
"These aren't serpent tracks," Veyra confirmed, her eyes flickering a cold electric blue. "Bipedal, heavy, and widespread. Multiple targets. Something... tribal."
Naia knelt beside Evon, touching the tracks with her cool fingers. "The ground is disturbed in all directions. This is not a single creature... it's a migration path. They're moving as a group."
"A horde," Sythara growled. She cracked her knuckles, scales shifting subtly beneath her skin. "Shadow orcs. I smell blood and decay."
Lyria's eyes blazed. "Finally," she hissed. "Let them come."
But Evon lifted a hand to still her. "Wait. If we rush forward, they'll surround us. I've seen it." He closed his eyes briefly, focusing his vision, seeing fractured flashes—blood, tusks, roars, fire. "They'll come in waves. Dozens. Maybe more."
Naia tilted her head. "Then we choose the battleground."
Veyra's eyes flickered as she scanned the terrain. "There's a ridge up ahead with a collapsed ruin. Limited entry points. Good for funneling enemies. I'll map a route."
"Good," Evon nodded. "Let's move. Quietly."
They advanced quickly but carefully, the forest gradually thinning as they climbed a slope choked with twisted roots and thorns. The sky darkened above them. The ruin came into view—jagged black stone spears stabbed into the sky from crumbling walls, and what remained of a central arch framed a clearing of open stone.
"This will do," Evon said.
Sythara drew her blade and cracked her neck. "Let them come."
And come they did.
The first screech echoed from the shadows, followed by the thunder of dozens of feet crashing through the underbrush. Red eyes pierced the gloom, and the horde emerged—black-skinned orcs with twisted limbs, tusks jutting from their mouths, some dragging rusted axes and spears forged of shadow-steel. They howled like animals, voices shrill and demonic.
"Positions!" Evon barked.
Naia stepped forward, arms raised. Water swirled from her palms in elegant streams, forming a barrier of liquid force across the broken entryway.
Lyria stood beside her, fire licking from her arms. "I'll light the first match."
Sythara crouched on a fallen column, her claws growing as her body began to shift, her form more dragon than human now.
Veyra stood high above the ruined archway, eyes glowing as her mechanical limbs unfolded twin plasma blades. "Targets acquired."
The first wave of shadow orcs slammed into Naia's water barrier—and were hurled back as she twisted her wrists, transforming the wall into a crushing whirlpool. Several were sucked in, spinning helplessly before being flung away into the stone.
"Now, Lyria!" Evon called.
"Gladly!" Lyria roared, hurling a sphere of molten flame into the mass of orcs. It exploded in a blossom of heat and fire, turning several into smoking ash.
"More are coming from the ridge!" Veyra warned, launching from her perch as she cut into the orcs climbing the side walls. Her blades danced, slicing clean through dark flesh, her movements precise and deadly.
Sythara landed like a meteor, claws glowing with power as she cleaved through three orcs in a single swipe. "They're not slowing down!"
Evon stood at the center of it all, watching. Reading. Adjusting.
"Naia, freeze the next wave's footing!"
She nodded, slamming her palms down. Water surged, coating the stone in a shimmering sheen—and then froze solid as her newfound ice element responded. The charging orcs lost traction, slipping and tumbling over each other in a heap.
"Veyra, target their archers!"
"Understood," she responded instantly, adjusting her position and unleashing a burst of micro missiles from her shoulder cannons that vaporized a group hiding in the trees.
Sythara barreled through the stunned orcs on the frozen floor, claws tearing through armor and flesh alike. "We're thinning them!"
Evon's eyes narrowed. "More are coming. Bigger ones. Be ready."
The thunder of approaching footsteps shook the very stones beneath them. The air thickened with power—darker, heavier.
Evon's eyes snapped open. "They're here. The elite ones."
Naia straightened, breath sharp as she pulled more water from the air. "These are different. I can feel their presence—more focused. Smarter."
The first of them appeared from between the broken trees—twice the size of the standard orcs. Their skin was darker, almost armor-like, and veins of purple energy pulsed under their flesh. Their eyes glowed bright red, not with rage, but cunning. Each carried a massive obsidian blade crackling with dark lightning.
"Evon..." Lyria said, tension thick in her voice. "I can't burn through that armor easily."
"I know," he said grimly. "These aren't like the others. We have to be precise. Sythara—engage one, but do not go alone."
"Wasn't planning to," Sythara growled, but even she hesitated as three of the elite shadow orcs stepped into the clearing, spreading out with slow, deliberate menace.
Veyra landed near Evon. "Their armor is reactive. I saw it absorbing my plasma blades. We need to disrupt it before striking."
"Naia," Evon said quickly, "Can you trap one? Even briefly?"
"I'll try."
Naia dropped to one knee, arms swirling. The ground beneath the lead elite orc softened into a spiral of water, but this one was ready. It drove its blade into the stone, anchoring itself, and resisted the pull. Its glowing eyes locked on Naia.
Evon shouted, "Break its focus! Now!"
Lyria hurled twin arcs of fire that spiraled around the orc's weapon. It hissed, withdrawing instinctively—and that was the opening Naia needed. The water swallowed its legs, and in one swift movement, she froze it up to the knees.
"NOW, STRIKE!" Evon commanded.
Sythara roared, wings flaring as she leapt, claws extended. She collided with the beast, hammering it with draconic strength. The ice cracked, but it bought them just enough time. Her claws slashed across the orc's face, drawing the first blood.
But the orc retaliated before dying. With a savage swing of its giant sword, it flung Sythara back like a ragdoll. She crashed into a stone wall with a grunt, shaking the whole structure.
"Sythara!" Lyria yelled, flames erupting from her hands.
Evon's breath caught. "She's alive, but stunned—protect her!"
The second elite orc had closed in on Veyra. She pivoted to dodge its wide, downward slash, but its fist followed like a battering ram, catching her midair. Her body spun, crashing through a pillar. Sparks flew from her armor as she recovered.
"They hit harder," she said, rising, her tone clipped.
"Stay mobile!" Evon said, focusing his Eyes of Fate. Paths opened before him—endless branches of choices and consequences.
A narrow one shimmered: a chance to wound the second orc.
"Lyria! Flank the left. Naia, break its footing again—now!"
The two women moved in unison. Naia spun water across the stone, making the beast slide as it charged. Lyria dashed in, fire blazing in a spear-shaped strike aimed for its neck. It raised its arm to block—but Veyra struck at the same time from behind, her upgraded blades glowing with searing heat.
The orc bellowed, a roar of true pain, as its armor cracked. Naia took her chance, shooting a burst of sharpened ice needles into the fracture. The beast stumbled and died.
The third elite orc came for Evon.
He drew his blade, the silver glinting faintly as his eyes flickered with future paths. It swung its massive cleaver down—but he sidestepped, ducked, then slashed upward. Sparks flew, but the blade didn't penetrate. Its armor was too thick.
Evon focused harder. The orc feinted next—he saw it a second before it happened—and rolled under the next blow, only to be caught by the beast's backhand. Pain exploded in his ribs as he slammed to the ground.
"Evon!" Naia shouted, desperation in her voice.
The orc raised its sword for a finishing blow.
A massive shadow fell between them—Sythara.
She'd returned, blood at her temple, claws glowing bright gold. "Not my mate," she snarled, catching the incoming sword with both arms and locking it in place.
Her legs buckled under the strain, but she held.
"Strike it, NOW!" she screamed.
Evon surged up, stabbing his blade directly into the joint under its arm. Naia blasted it with a surge of freezing water. Veyra landed behind it, embedding her dagger into the back of its neck. Lyria launched a cone of fire at its exposed side.
The beast shrieked, staggered, then finally collapsed.
Sythara exhaled, dropping the black sword and falling to her knees.
"Three down," Veyra said, chest rising and falling. "But at a cost."
"They're stronger than anything we've faced," Naia agreed, eyes scanning the dark forest ahead. "And the deeper we go, the worse it will get."
Evon stood still, wiping blood from his lips.
...
The silence after the battle was thick, almost sacred. Their breaths were ragged. Blood—black and crimson—stained the ground and splattered across armor and skin. The scent of ozone and scorched earth lingered in the air.
Evon knelt beside Sythara, who was still catching her breath. She winced as she moved, her wings twitching with visible pain.
"We shouldn't push forward too fast," Naia said softly, examining Veyra's cracked plating and Lyria's scorched arm. "We need rest. Even I can't hold the tide forever."
Evon looked at all of them—his companions, his lovers, the ones who'd entrusted their lives to him.
He blinked—and then the world stopped.
A sharp pressure pierced through his skull, like something ancient forcing its way into his consciousness.
[Condition Satisfied!]
[You have reached the required usage limit of Eyes of Fate]
[Granting a new ability to your Title]
[Ability Acquired: Destined Heal]
[You can now seamlessly heal those who have become your Fated Ladies]
Evon gasped, staggering slightly as the words burned into his mind. The system's voice faded, replaced by a soft hum deep in his core. It was warm… peaceful… like his soul had been touched by something divine.
"Evon?" Naia stepped toward him, worry clouding her watery eyes. "What is it?"
"I… I think I've just awakened something new," he murmured. "Something that could change everything."
Without thinking, he reached for Sythara first. The draconic woman was wounded worst—her chest heaving, armor cracked, blood trickling from her side.
Evon placed his hand gently over the wound. The moment his skin touched hers, light surged from his palm.
A soft golden glow wrapped around Sythara's body. Her eyes widened—first in shock, then in awe.
She inhaled sharply. "Evon… what are you…?"
But before she could finish, the deep gash in her side knit itself closed. Her bruised muscles relaxed. Even the shallow tears in her wings began to fade.
He looked up. "I can heal you now. All of you. I don't know how I got this power—but it's tied to our bond. I think it's called Destined Heal."
"Another gift from the system," Veyra murmured, scanning him with curiosity. "Impressive. Your body and soul are adapting."
Lyria stepped closer, eyes filled with wonder. "Does it work for all of us?"
"Yes," he said, heart pounding as he reached for her scorched arm. Again, light surged. Her skin shimmered—then mended. She hissed softly, then exhaled in relief.
Naia took his hand gently. "This… is your gift to us," she said. "Not just your strength. But your care, your heart."
Evon smiled. "We're not just allies. We're something more now. I'll keep healing you. Every time you fall—I'll be there to lift you back up."
They embraced him, one by one, pressing their foreheads to his, their bodies leaning into his warmth. Not out of desperation—but trust.
Still, the moment couldn't last.
A distant rumble echoed through the forest—low and bone-deep. The kind of sound that made your skin crawl and instincts scream.
Naia pulled back first. "There's something else waiting."
Evon nodded. "Then let's press forward. Together."