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A wave of intense heat washed over Dylan for a mont. Even the biting chill of the night seed to vanish, swept away by the burning echo of the energy he had just absorbed. His breath slowed, and his heart beat heavier, deeper — as if syncing with the rhythm of an older world.

Then it all faded.

The warmth receded gradually, leaving behind a soft, almost pleasant fatigue. Now that the spiritual essence of the anima gem had been purified, Dylan finally opened his eyes.

Right beside him, Élisa was already there, sitting in the sa position, looking peaceful. She had clearly finished before him — and she made sure he knew it, without even speaking.

A slight, calm smile tugged at her lips. The firelight danced in her golden eyes, giving them an almost supernatural glow.

"You’re much slower than , I see," she said gently, not mocking, but with that usual glint of mischief.

Dylan sighed, rubbing his still-warm face with one hand.

"Maybe I just prefer taking my ti. Can’t afford to rush things when I’m this clumsy."

She chuckled softly, the sound barely audible, and turned her gaze back to the fire.

Silence returned, lighter than before, as if the tension had briefly lted away.

Maggie finally stood by the fire, wiping her hands on a fold of her tunic before tossing aside the last gnawed bones — too hard, too dense. She wasn’t confident enough in her teeth to crush them, and clearly not hungry enough to try.

Dylan watched her approach. She didn’t say a word, but her steps were direct, asured. She sat down between him and Élisa without asking, without warning — simply, as if that spot was rightfully hers.

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted.

The tension rose, subtle but perceptible. As if her re presence had thickened the air around the fire. Even the flas seed quieter for a mont.

Maggie paid no attention.

Her face remained closed off, distant — that mask of indifference she wore like armor. She slowly lifted her gaze to the sky, where the moon still fought against the lingering shreds of night fog.

"We should gather all the intel we collected today," she said calmly. "Tomorrow will be another hunting day. It would be better if we prepared a plan for each of our next targets."

Neither Dylan nor Élisa answered right away.

Then Maggie continued, still looking at the stars.

"Especially since we need to increase our haul. Even if... we fail to protect the young lieutenant..."

Her eyes lingered on Dylan for a beat too long before drifting back skyward.

"...we must at least be strong enough for what cos next."

Silence fell. Not cold, not heavy. Just... clear. Like a truth they weren’t ready to say aloud.

Dylan’s hand tightened slightly around the handle of his machete, lying beside him. He didn’t like the way Maggie had phrased that: "Even if we fail to protect him..."

As if he was already half-erased from the picture.

"Nice." he muttered, eyes fixed on the embers. "You could at least pretend to believe it’s possible."

Maggie turned her head toward him, no anger in her expression. Just that flat calm she wielded like a blade.

"I believe in what I see. And what I saw today is that you’re still standing. That’s more than I expected."

Dylan raised his eyebrows, caught sowhere between irony and annoyance. "Was that supposed to be a complint?"

"You can take it however you like, lieutenant," she replied simply, turning her gaze back to the flas.

Élisa watched the exchange with that half-smile she always wore when things got interesting.

"For what it’s worth, I believe it," she said, stretching her legs out. "We fought three third-rank creatures today. We’re still alive. And you two spend more ti throwing jabs than patching your wounds... that’s gotta an sothing."

"It mostly ans we haven’t had enough problems yet," Dylan muttered.

"Or that you’re both too stubborn to die," Élisa added, biting into a piece of at she still hadn’t finished.

Maggie raised an eyebrow — not offended, just observant.

"Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive."

They fell quiet again. The fire crackled softly. Shadows danced over the stones, the broken tombs, the world around them folding into a muted, watchful state.

Then Maggie spoke again, lower this ti, almost to herself:

"Tomorrow, we should target a bigger one. A third-rank awakened, if we can find one."

Dylan snapped his head up.

"Excuse ? You want what?"

She didn’t look at him.

"Ti’s not on our side. If you want to survive the full moon, we’ll need more than just standard prey. We’ll need sothing dense. Powerful."

Élisa nodded slowly.

"She’s not wrong. But we’ll have to be smart about it. An awakened beast isn’t sothing you wear down."

The silence thickened.

And deep inside, Dylan felt that warmth return — slow, murky, strange. A mix of anxiety, anger... and longing.

That fire he hadn’t yet learned to na.

So, they gathered their mories.

Each of them shared what they had seen, sensed, heard.

About the beasts they had crossed paths with earlier in the day — so alone, others in groups — they spoke of their sizes, their forms, their posture, how they hunted or reacted to their environnt. Details that might seem insignificant at first glance, but could make all the difference when it ca to survival.

Élisa, with her sharp visual mory, traced outlines directly into the dirt with the tip of her dagger: silhouettes, positions, distances. Maggie comnted on the sketches, marked escape routes and angles of attack, while Dylan — to his own surprise — recalled things he hadn’t noticed at the ti. The way one creature lingered by a tomb. The skittish look of another when a stone rolled nearby.

"That one," Maggie said, pointing to one of the rough drawings, "I saw it avoid another predator. Probably a hierarchy in the area. If it flees, it knows it can lose."

"It’s fast. But it tires quickly," added Élisa. "Once, it stopped dead after a short run."

Dylan nodded. "And it hunts alone. Which is a good sign. If it had a pack, we’d already be dead."

They went over three potential targets, all third-rank.

Two awakened, one not — but larger than average.

"This one," Maggie said, circling a crude sketch, "would be ideal. If we can isolate it."

They all nodded.

A plan was starting to form. Still hazy. Instinctual. But a plan nonetheless.

And for tonight, that was enough.

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