Doc woke with a groan, every muscle in his body protesting the simple act of consciousness. Yesterday's use of the H.O.T. Protocol had left him feeling like he'd been trampled by a herd of Ravageboars.

  "Good morning," Lux chimed through their neural link. "Your body is experiencing significant muscular microtears and inflammation from yesterday's combat enhancement usage. Recommendation: Seek a healing potion from Mazoga to accelerate recovery."

  Doc winced as he sat up. "What are you, my mother?"

  "Negative. Your mother is currently located on Nexus Prime, approximately a couple dimensional jumps away, and is statistically likely to be concerned about your extended absence."

  The words hit Doc with unexpected force. With all his focus on immediate survival—securing the camp, understanding this world's rules, keeping these people alive—he hadn't allowed himself to think about home. About his mother, who had always worried when he took distant assignments.

  Fish sensed the shift in his mood immediately. She padded over from her spot near the tent entrance and nudged his hand with her muzzle, amber eyes studying his face with uncanny perception.

  "Hey, girl." Doc ran his fingers through her midnight fur, finding comfort in the simple contact. "Just thinking about home."

  He remembered his mother's face the day he'd left for the Academy—pride warring with concern, her hands smoothing his already-smooth uniform collar for the fifth time.

  "Be careful out there, Robert," she'd said, using his birth name as she always did when serious. "The universe doesn't care how smart you are if you don't take care of yourself."

  Doc smiled faintly at Fish. "My mother would probably like you. She always loved dogs." He scratched behind Fish's ears. "Said they had more sense than most humans. You're basically a big dog with some... unusual features."

  Fish's tail wagged enthusiastically at his brightening mood.

  "Though I'm not sure how she'd feel about the whole 'absorbing monster cores and developing phase-shifting abilities' thing," Doc added dryly.

  With a grunt of effort, Doc pushed himself to his feet, muscles screaming in protest. Fish moved to his side, offering her solid presence as subtle support.

  "Alright, let's go find Maz and see about that healing potion," Doc conceded. "No need to suffer if there's a solution available."

  "A rational decision," Lux approved. "Unnecessary pain provides no tactical advantage."

  Doc stepped out of his tent into the morning light, Fish at his heels. The camp was already alive with activity—walls being reinforced, food being prepared, children being taught. What had been a prison camp just days ago was transforming into something with purpose, with hope.

  Despite the ache in his muscles, Doc felt a small measure of pride in that transformation. These people had been given nothing but scraps and danger, yet they were building something meaningful. Perhaps there was a lesson in that resilience.

  Now, to find Mazoga and admit he needed help—another kind of lesson altogether, and one that didn't come easily to him. But as his mother would say, sometimes the smartest choice was admitting when you needed a hand.

  Doc walked around camp, each step a painful reminder of yesterday's combat exertion. Despite his discomfort, he couldn't help but notice significant changes to the fort's structure. The eastern wall stood tall and reinforced, no longer the crumbling hazard it had been just yesterday. Most impressive was the watchtower—fully rebuilt and manned by a vigilant Calen, who gave a small wave when he spotted Doc.

  "Impressive," Doc muttered, genuinely surprised by the overnight transformation.

  Lux's voice chimed in his mind. "The construction appears to have progressed approximately 300% faster than initial projections based on available manpower and resources."

  Doc spotted Brenn nearby, carefully measuring a section of wood for what looked like a door frame. The craftsman worked with practiced precision, his movements economical and sure.

  "Morning," Doc called, approaching the carpenter. "You and your brother made quick work of those repairs. I'm impressed."

  Brenn looked up, nodding matter-of-factly. "When it comes to wood, there are no better workers than me and my brother." There was no boast in his tone—just simple acknowledgment of skill. "Those tools you and the small folk fixed up made all the difference. Cut our work time in half, maybe more."

  "Glad my contribution helped," Doc replied, watching Brenn's practiced hands smooth a joint.

  The craftsman paused, looking at Doc with unexpected seriousness. "Your contributions are the reason things have gone so smoothly here. Not just the tools." He gestured vaguely toward the forest. "That meat you and Kesh brought in... never seen anything like it. Gives a man strength."

  "Indeed," Lux observed privately. "Preliminary scans indicate the monster meat appears to be supercharging the locals' metabolic and cellular regeneration rates. This is likely not normal in areas with standard fauna."

  "Interesting theory," Doc replied internally before addressing Brenn. "Well, I should let you get back to work. Just wanted to say I'm impressed with the progress."

  Brenn nodded and returned to his measurements as Doc continued his search for Mazoga.

  He found her near the northern wall, deep in conversation with Kesh and Tanna. Their expressions were grave, heads bent together in what appeared to be serious discussion. As Doc approached, he caught fragments of their conversation.

  "...third time I've spotted movement," Kesh was saying, his voice low. "Definitely human, but the way they moved..."

  "You're certain it was some of the escaped bandits?" Mazoga asked.

  Tanna shook her head, ears flattening slightly. "That's just it. They looked like them, but something felt wrong. My instincts were screaming danger, but not in the usual way."

  "What do you mean 'wrong'?" Mazoga pressed.

  "Like they were..." Tanna struggled for words, "...puppet versions of themselves. Moving too stiffly in some ways, too fluidly in others."

  Doc cleared his throat, alerting them to his presence. The three turned, conversation halting abruptly.

  "Doc," Mazoga acknowledged, her expression shifting to something more neutral. "Was just about to look for you. How are you feeling after yesterday's fight?"

  Doc was about to wave away Mazoga's concern when he shifted his weight and felt a sharp twinge lance through his back and shoulders. He couldn't suppress the wince that followed.

  "Actually," he admitted, "I was looking for you to ask about healing potions. Yesterday's... exertion left me with some muscle strain."

  Kesh and Tanna exchanged surprised glances. Doc caught their reaction immediately—of course they would wonder. They'd watched him move with impossible speed yesterday, cutting through those plant creatures like they were nothing. Not a scratch on him afterward.

  "You're hurt?" Tanna asked, her canine ears perking up with curiosity. "But the Bramblelash Stalkers never landed a hit on you."

  Lux's voice whispered in Doc's mind. "Recommendation: Provide a plausible explanation that maintains operational security regarding your enhanced combat protocols."

  "When I move that quickly, I sometimes strain my body," Doc explained smoothly. "It's not an injury from the creatures—more the aftermath of pushing myself beyond normal limits. My muscles are paying for it today."

  The explanation seemed to satisfy them, though Doc could still see curiosity lingering in their eyes. Another mystery about the strange armored man who'd rescued them.

  "Ironha can help with that," Mazoga said, nodding decisively.

  Doc grimaced. "I don't believe I've met Ironha yet."

  Mazoga's eyebrows lifted. "The elf healer? Silver-toned skin, quiet, keeps to herself mostly?" When Doc shook his head, she continued, "Well, you've been busy. Come on, I'll introduce you. She's better with healing magic than potions anyway—saves those for emergencies."

  She gestured for all of them to follow. "You two can finish your report on the way. Doc should hear what you saw last night."

  Fish padded silently alongside Doc as they walked toward the eastern section of the camp. The wolf's amber eyes scanned constantly, her midnight fur occasionally shimmering with subtle violet patterns when she passed through patches of shadow.

  "What exactly did you see?" Doc asked, addressing Kesh and Tanna.

  Kesh's expression darkened. "Movement at the forest edge. Three figures—looked like some of the bandits who escaped."

  "But something was wrong with them," Tanna added, her voice lowered. "The way they moved... it wasn't natural."

  "Explain," Doc prompted.

  "It's hard to describe," Tanna said, frustration evident in her voice. "My beast instincts were screaming danger, but not in the usual way. Not like predator or prey. Something else entirely."

  "They moved like they were being... controlled," Kesh added. "Jerky one moment, too fluid the next. And they were just watching us. For hours."

  "Did they attempt to approach the camp?" Doc asked.

  "No," Mazoga answered. "Just watched from the tree line, then disappeared before dawn. This is the third night we've spotted them."

  Doc felt Fish press closer to his side, her body tense. Whatever had been watching them, she didn't like it either.

  Doc followed Mazoga and the others toward a small tent set up near the eastern wall. The morning light filtered through the worn canvas, casting a warm glow inside. As they approached, Doc heard a child's sniffling followed by a gentle, melodic voice offering reassurance.

  "It's alright, Lina. Just a moment more and the pain will be gone."

  Mazoga pulled back the tent flap, revealing a slender elf woman kneeling beside a small girl with honey-blonde braids. The child's knee was scraped raw, blood still welling from the wound. The elf—Ironha, Doc presumed—had her hands hovering just above the injury, a soft green luminescence flowing from her palms into the damaged tissue.

  Doc watched, transfixed, as the light sank into the child's skin. The torn flesh knitted together before his eyes, first closing the wound, then smoothing the skin until only the faintest pink mark remained where the injury had been.

  "Cellular regeneration at that rate should be impossible without nanite assistance," Lux observed through their neural link. "Yet I detect no technological signature. The energy pattern is... organic. Self-sustaining."

  "Fascinating," Doc murmured, too quietly for the others to hear.

  Ironha looked up, her iridescent skin catching the light as she moved. Her eyes widened slightly at the group assembled at the tent entrance.

  "There you go, Lina," she said, helping the girl to her feet. "Try to be more careful when you're playing by the woodpile."

  The child nodded, wiping away the last of her tears. "Thank you, Miss Ironha." She darted past the group, apparently eager to rejoin whatever game had led to her injury.

  Ironha rose gracefully to her feet, her silver-toned features composed and serene. "How may I help you?" she asked, her voice carrying the same gentle cadence Doc had heard from outside.

  Mazoga stepped forward. "Doc here needs some healing. He's dealing with muscle strain after yesterday's fight with the Bramblelash Stalkers."

  Ironha's gaze shifted to Doc, assessing him with quiet intensity. "A healing potion would certainly address that," she said. "But perhaps I should examine you first? My Pulseweave skill can help with minor injuries and strain. We should save the potions for more serious cases."

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  Mazoga looked toward Doc, clearly deferring to his preference.

  Doc nodded. "That would be appreciated. Thank you."

  "Initiating enhanced sensory protocols," Lux informed him. "I'll monitor the energy signatures and physiological effects of her healing technique."

  Ironha gestured to a simple stool. "Please, sit. Where is the pain most severe?"

  "Upper back, shoulders, and through my arms," Doc replied, lowering himself onto the stool.

  Ironha moved behind him, her slender hands hovering just above his shoulders. "This may feel unusual if you haven't experienced healing magic before," she warned.

  "I'll manage," Doc assured her.

  The elf's hands began to glow with the same green luminescence he'd observed earlier. As she brought them closer to his body, Doc felt a curious sensation—like warm water flowing beneath his skin, seeking out the damaged tissue.

  "Remarkable," Lux commented. "The energy is targeting areas of microtrauma with precision comparable to our nanite protocols, but through completely different mechanisms. It appears to be accelerating your natural healing processes rather than replacing them."

  Doc could feel the difference immediately. The sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulders mellowed to a dull ache, then faded entirely as Ironha's hands moved across his back in slow, deliberate patterns.

  "Your injuries remind me of injuries I've dealt with when I worked with farmers who overworked themselves in the fields," Ironha observed quietly.

  "Side effect of my combat technique," Doc explained, keeping details vague.

  Ironha nodded, not pressing for more information. "The damage is healing well. You should feel a lot better soon."

  Doc rolled his shoulders experimentally as Ironha's hands withdrew, the green glow fading from her fingertips. The persistent ache that had plagued him since yesterday's combat had vanished completely, replaced by a pleasant warmth that radiated through his muscles.

  "That's... remarkable," he said, standing to test his range of motion. He stretched, twisted, and flexed, finding no hint of the earlier pain. "Lux, assessment?" he subvocalized.

  "Scan complete," Lux reported privately. "Muscle tissue shows complete repair of microtears. Inflammation reduced to baseline levels. Recovery rate exceeds standard nanite protocols by approximately 27%. Truly remarkable, considering no technological assistance was involved."

  Doc looked at Ironha with genuine appreciation. "Thank you. That's extraordinary work—I feel better than I did before the fight."

  A faint silvery blush spread across Ironha's cheeks, the iridescent quality of her skin making the color shift like moonlight on water. She quickly lowered her gaze, her slender fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

  Doc glanced between her and the others, puzzled by her reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"

  Mazoga's tusked mouth curved into an amused smile. Kesh and Tanna exchanged knowing looks, but none of them offered an explanation.

  From beside him, Fish made a strange huffing sound—almost like a canine chuckle. Her amber eyes held an unmistakable glint of amusement as she looked between Doc and the flustered healer.

  "I fail to understand the social dynamics at play," Lux commented. "No offense appears to have been given. Perhaps this is another cultural misinterpretation?"

  "It's fine," Ironha finally said, composing herself. "I'm just... not used to such direct gratitude from someone of your... level."

  Doc frowned slightly, still not fully grasping the situation, but nodded. "Well, I am grateful. Your skills are invaluable to this camp."

  He turned to leave, pausing at the tent entrance to thank her once more before stepping outside into the morning light, Fish padding silently beside him.

  Once outside, the others followed, Mazoga taking the lead as they walked toward the center of the camp.

  "About those bandits you spotted," Doc said, returning to their earlier conversation. "You said they were watching from the east side?"

  Kesh nodded. "Yes, just beyond the tree line. With the east wall repaired and the watchtower functioning, we'll have better visibility, but I'm concerned about what they're planning."

  "The way they moved wasn't natural," Tanna added, her canine ears flattening slightly. "Something's really wrong with them."

  Doc considered this information carefully. "With the east side secured, what other vulnerabilities need addressing before Fish and I scout their location?"

  "The south wall still has that breach where part of it collapsed years ago," Mazoga replied. "We've set up a temporary barricade, but it wouldn't hold against a determined attack."

  "And the west gate needs its hinges replaced," Kesh added. "It can be barred from inside, but the wood is rotting where it meets the metal."

  Doc nodded, mentally cataloging the priorities. "Once those are secured, Fish and I will track those bandits, see what we're dealing with."

  Fish's ears perked up at the mention of tracking, her amber eyes focusing intently on Doc's face.

  "You really think that's wise?" Mazoga asked, concern evident in her voice. "If something's wrong with them like Tanna suggests—"

  "All the more reason to gather intelligence," Doc interrupted gently. "I'd rather know what we're facing than wait for it to find us."

  Doc decided to walk over to the north wall first, wanting to see what progress had been made there. As he approached, he spotted Carl, Dulric, Brenn and Tor working in coordinated movements that seemed almost choreographed.

  "Need an extra pair of hands?" Doc asked, studying their efficient work pattern.

  Tor looked up from where he was hefting a massive timber into place. "Always room for more help," he grunted, muscles straining as he positioned the log against the wall frame.

  Doc moved closer, watching as Dulric ran his hands along a warped metal bracket. The dwarf's fingers glowed with a dull orange light, and the metal visibly shifted under his touch, straightening and hardening.

  "Hidebound Ingenuity," Carl explained, noticing Doc's fascination. "Dulric can reshape metal with his bare hands now. Pretty impressive skill evolution after working with those Ravageboar hides."

  "Fascinating," Doc replied. "The metal's molecular structure appears to be reconfiguring without any heat application."

  Dulric snorted. "Don't need fancy words for it. I feel what the metal wants to be, and I help it get there."

  Lux's voice chimed in Doc's mind. "His energy signature is altering the atomic bonds in the metal. Similar to our nanite reconfiguration technology, but achieved through completely different means."

  Meanwhile, Brenn was examining a section of damaged wood. He placed his palm against it, closed his eyes, and a subtle ripple of energy flowed from his fingers. The splintered wood fibers visibly realigned, knitting together until the beam looked freshly cut.

  "Joiner's Grace," Brenn explained without looking up. "Wood remembers what it's supposed to be. I just remind it."

  "He's manipulating the cellular structure," Lux observed privately to Doc. "The lignin and cellulose are reforming bonds that were broken. There's no technological component I can detect."

  Carl was perhaps the most fascinating to watch. The small folk engineer had positioned himself at a junction where several support beams met. He traced complex patterns in the air with his fingers, leaving faint blue-green trails of light. When he pressed these glowing symbols against the wood, they sank in like water into sand.

  "Arcane Reinforcement," Carl said proudly, catching Doc's stare. "It's my newest skill since the class evolution. Makes structures about three times stronger than they should be."

  Doc moved to help Tor with another heavy beam, his enhanced strength making the work easier. As they positioned it, Tor nodded appreciatively.

  "You've got the strength of a lumberjack," he commented. "What's your class again?"

  "It's... complicated," Doc replied, evading the question.

  "Must be high-level," Tor said with a shrug, clearly accepting Doc's non-answer. "High levels get weird skills."

  Doc watched as the four workers continued their repairs, each applying their unique abilities with casual ease. To them, these "skills" were as natural as breathing—no different than Doc using a hammer or saw, except the tools were internalized, part of their very being.

  "Their abilities seem to be an intrinsic extension of themselves," Doc subvocalized to Lux. "It's not technology they're using—it's something woven into their physiology."

  "Correct," Lux replied. "The energy signatures manifest differently for each individual, suggesting personalized expression of whatever force governs this world's metaphysical framework. Carl's appears the most complex—likely due to his recent class evolution."

  Doc handed Brenn a section of prepared timber, watching as the craftsman's hands glowed softly while the wood settled perfectly into place.

  "It's remarkable," Doc commented. "You all work together like you've been doing this for years."

  "Skills make the work easier," Dulric said simply, hammering a reinforced bracket into place. "But it's still work. Having good people beside you matters more than fancy abilities."

  As Doc and the others finished up the last repair to the camp, he stepped back to admire their work. The north wall stood reinforced, each timber and bracket perfectly aligned. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds.

  "And that's the last of it," Dulric announced, wiping sweat from his brow. "Wall's stronger than it was when this place was first built."

  Doc glanced at the setting sun and sighed. "There really isn't enough time in the day to get things done."

  "Statistically speaking, your productivity today was exceptional," Lux responded through their neural link. "The repair work completed in the past ten hours would typically require three days with standard construction methods."

  "I know," Doc subvocalized, "but it feels like the days are ending sooner here."

  "Solar cycle on this planet is approximately 23.7 hours, marginally shorter than your home world," Lux replied. "The difference accumulates to noticeable levels after several days."

  Doc nodded absently at this information as he made his way toward the main fire pit at the center of camp. Fish padded silently beside him, her midnight fur occasionally catching the fading sunlight.

  The smell of cooking food grew stronger as they approached. Calen sat on a log near the fire, stirring something in a large pot, while Bran added wood to maintain the flames.

  "Just in time," Bran called out, noticing Doc's approach. "Soup's almost ready."

  Doc settled on a nearby stump as Bran ladled thick stew into a wooden bowl and handed it to him.

  "Thanks," Doc said, accepting the bowl gratefully. The warmth felt good against his hands. "How are you two holding up?"

  Calen looked up, his young face brightening. "I've been thinking about that core you gave me yesterday. Might absorb it soon. Can't wait to see what skills it'll give me."

  "That so?" Doc asked, taking a spoonful of the hearty stew.

  Calen nodded eagerly. "Maybe I'll get something for stealth. Or night vision like those plant based attacks like the bramblelash stalker had."

  Doc turned to Bran. "What about you? Any plans for your core?"

  The miller shrugged his broad shoulders. "Don't work with nature much, not like Kesh or Tanna. I'm just a simple miller." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Might sell it, actually. It's a high-quality core—could fetch a good price once we're out of this forest."

  "Practical approach," Doc commented.

  "What about you?" Calen asked, leaning forward with curiosity. "What are you going to do with all those cores you've collected?"

  Doc took another spoonful of stew, considering his answer. "After I finish studying them, I'll probably give them all to Fish."

  Both men stared at him, then at Fish who lay contentedly at Doc's feet. Bran's spoon froze halfway to his mouth.

  "You're giving them to your wolf?" Calen asked, eyes wide with disbelief. "I thought you were joking when you said you feed cores to her."

  "You're not going to absorb them yourself?" Bran added, equally stunned.

  Doc grimaced slightly. The truth was that he couldn't absorb cores—his physiology existed outside this world's class system. But that wasn't something he could explain without revealing far too much about himself.

  "I don't need them," he said simply, taking another bite of stew.

  Bran and Calen exchanged looks of amazement.

  "Don't need them?" Calen whispered. "But even high-level adventurers seek out rare cores."

  Bran shook his head slowly, a new respect dawning in his eyes. "Must be something to be so powerful you can just give away high quality monster cores like they're pebbles."

  Doc focused on his meal, uncomfortable with their awestruck expressions. He hadn't intended to add to his growing reputation, but it seemed every attempt to downplay his abilities only heightened the mystery surrounding him.

  Doc trudged back to his tent, muscles aching pleasantly from the day's labor. The camp had transformed in just a few days—walls reinforced, watchtower stabilized, and a sense of security slowly returning to the former prisoners. Fish trotted alongside him, her midnight fur occasionally seeming to blend with the gathering darkness.

  Inside the tent, Doc removed his MANTIS gauntlet and sat on his bedroll with a weary sigh. Fish circled three times before settling at his feet, her amber eyes fixed on his face.

  "Productive day," Doc murmured, stretching his shoulders. "No monsters, no bandits, no life-threatening situations. Almost feels wrong."

  "Your definition of 'normal' has shifted significantly since arrival," Lux observed through their neural link. "Statistically speaking, days without mortal peril should be the standard, not the exception."

  Doc chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "True enough. But admit it—you're a little bored too."

  "I am incapable of boredom," Lux replied primly. "However, I have allocated 12% less processing power to threat detection today, which has allowed for deeper analysis of our collected data."

  Fish huffed loudly, as if expressing her own opinion on the matter.

  "See? Fish agrees with me," Doc said, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. "A day without something trying to kill us is practically a vacation."

  Fish leaned into his touch, making a contented rumbling sound deep in her throat.

  "Fish's behavioral patterns suggest she is simply appreciating physical contact, not commenting on your dubious definition of leisure," Lux countered. "Though I note her vigilance levels have decreased 18% since this morning, indicating increased comfort with our current security."

  Doc stretched out on his bedroll, hands behind his head. "Any progress on analyzing those plant samples from yesterday?"

  "Preliminary analysis shows cellular structures unlike anything in our database," Lux reported. "The Bramblelash Stalker appears to be a hybrid organism—part plant, part magical construct. Its ability to mimic inert vegetation while maintaining predatory capabilities suggests advanced evolutionary adaptation."

  Fish yawned dramatically, showing her impressive teeth before settling her head on her paws.

  "I think that's Fish's way of saying your scientific observations are putting her to sleep," Doc said with a smile.

  "An unlikely correlation," Lux replied. "More probable is that she is responding to your decreased activity level and preparing for sleep herself."

  Doc rolled his eyes. "It was a joke, Lux."

  "Ah. Humor. I have noted it for future reference."

  Fish made a sound suspiciously like a snort.

  "Even Fish knows when I'm joking," Doc said, yawning himself now. "Maybe you should take lessons from her."

  "Fish lacks the capacity for linguistic instruction," Lux responded. "However, I have observed that her non-verbal communication often aligns with human emotional cues more accurately than my algorithms predict."

  "That's because she doesn't overthink everything," Doc murmured, his eyes growing heavy. The day's physical labor, combined with the relative peace, was quickly pulling him toward sleep. "Wake me if anything tries to eat us."

  "Standard monitoring protocols remain active," Lux assured him. "Rest well, Doc."

  Fish shifted closer, her warm body a comforting presence as Doc drifted off to sleep.

  "Doc! Wake up! We're under attack!"

  Doc bolted upright, instantly alert. Kesh's voice had cut through his sleep like a knife. Outside, shouts and the clash of weapons filled the night air.

  "Multiple hostiles approaching the east wall," Lux reported crisply. "Movement patterns are erratic."

  Doc grabbed his MANTIS gauntlet, sliding it on as he rushed to the tent entrance. Fish was already up, her fur bristling, a low growl rumbling from her throat.

  "What are we dealing with?" Doc asked, grabbing his plasma pistol.

  "Unknown. Energy signatures are... unusual. They register as both organic and magical, but with significant corruption."

  Doc burst out of the tent into chaos. The night was lit by torches and the glow of magical attacks. Defenders rushed to positions along the walls while others helped children and non-combatants to shelter.

  "Doc!" Mazoga shouted from near the east gate. "They're coming through!"

  Doc sprinted toward her position, Fish a shadow at his heels. As he reached the wall, he saw what they were facing and froze momentarily in shock.

  The attackers were the missing bandits—but horrifically changed. Fungal growths erupted from their skin, glowing with sickly green light. Their movements were jerky yet coordinated, like puppets controlled by invisible strings. Most disturbing were their eyes—empty and luminous with the same eerie green glow.

  "What in the world?" Doc whispered.

  "Analysis indicates parasitic fungal infection," Lux reported. "Similar to cordyceps but with magical properties. These are no longer human—they're being controlled."

  As Doc watched, one of the infected bandits raised its arms. The fungal growths on its body pulsed, and suddenly vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around a section of the wall and beginning to pull it apart.

  "They're using plant magic!" Kesh shouted, loosing an arrow that struck an infected bandit in the chest. The creature barely flinched.

  "Prepare for combat" Mazoga called, her voice tight with urgency.

  Before Doc could say anything else, the east gate splintered inward with a deafening crack, and the first wave of fungal-infected bandits poured through the breach.

  Thanks for reading Chapter 19!

  Chapter 20 drops Friday.