The battle was over. The mimic-land octopus lay sprawled across the rocky canyon ground, its writhing tentacles finally stilled. The giant flowers nearby still smoked from acid sprays, but the danger had passed.

Most of the students were preparing to leave.

Except for the three nature mages of Team Green.

"We're staying," said Nelra, wiping ichor from her cheek as she crouched beside the massive corpse. Her eyes gleamed with purpose. "That's a level nine beast. You don't walk away from something like this without harvesting it."

Her teammates exchanged glances. Then Bren, lanky and quiet, nodded. "The beastcore is probably still intact."

"I saw its skin change color during the fight," added the third, already pulling out a bone-handled stone knife. "Camouflage skin. Even with the gashes, that stuff's worth more than silk. And the poison glands at the end of each tentacle are interesting too.

"Right," Nelra confirmed. She stood, rolling up her sleeves. "We take the core first. Then skin. Glands last, they're fragile and I don't want to work on a body that's sprinkled with poison."

The corpse was massive, partially melted where contact poison had hit. Its false-rock hide now looked more like cracked shale, with hints of wet, scale-like texture beneath. One eye was still open, but glassy, and no longer tracking their movement.

"We've got at least 8 hours before it starts to rot," Bren murmured, unsheathing a thin ritual blade. "But about one hour before something else comes to loot us."

Nelra grinned. "Then we better be fast. This corpse is worth more than our tuition."

They set to work, three teenage druids knee-deep in monster flesh, blood, and magic, grinning like treasure hunters.

Because in a way, they were.

* * *

The others watched as Team Green got to work, unpacking tools and discussing the best angle to cut into the land-kraken's thick hide.

Weylan shook his head, annoyed at his own oversight. "Damn. I'd have completely forgotten to loot the thing."

Ulmenglanz checked with the trio, making sure they were comfortable staying while she continued on with the others toward the heart of the canyon.

Faya, meanwhile, was chatting with the members of Team Orange, who still radiated pride from their earlier performance. "I still can't believe you thought you'd need to sing the song... and then you ended up saving us. So much for underestimating song magic."

The bard gave a theatrical wave, grinning. "Don't mention it. We just unlocked the feat that lets us synchronize our sonic attacks. Not many combat feats for bards, so we figured we'd give it a shot. It's a bit niche, sure, the long casting time is awful, but when it hits, it hits."

His partner, the spellsinger, was still glowing with pride, until her gaze shifted past Faya and her expression changed. "Uh… is it okay if your rabbit eats the flowers?"

Faya spun around.

The verdant hare was nibbling on the thick stem of one of the canyon's glowing blossoms. Sparks of blue mana arced into its mouth as the flower's radiant glow dimmed noticeably. Faya rushed over, scooping him up and lifting him away from the damaged plant.

"No, no, no… you can't eat the magic flowers," she scolded in exasperation.

The moment her fingers touched the hare, Malvorik's voice stirred in her mind. <Don't worry. He'd need to eat several to trigger the wards.>

Still holding the hare, she stepped aside and whispered under her breath, "What wards?"

<Floral warding spells. They detect damage to the flowers. I assume the local pests have learned to spread their feasting across many, rather than destroy any single one. While the teleportation wards cause the bees to gather around the hive's entrance to defend against a potential invasion, these ones likely alert a patrol or hunting party. The verdant hare seems to be still a bit hungry. Let him eat from another flower farther down the canyon and you should be fine.>

Faya sighed and gave the hare a gentle scolding before slipping him back into his side pouch.

As they packed up and prepared to move, she got one more piece of advice from Malvorik and turned back to shout it to Team Green. "Oh, and don't forget to check the tentacles for secondary beastcores. The main one's in the brain, sure, but each tentacle has a nerve cluster near the top third. Kind of like mini-brains. Sometimes they develop a beastcore too."

Weylan surveyed the group now preparing to leave. "We're too many for a stealth approach. We can't fight the hive, so sneaking's our only option. And honestly, some of us aren't exactly subtle." His eyes landed pointedly on the bard, still wearing a garish cloak of swirling colors and a floppy red felt hat.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

The spellsinger winced. "Fair. None of us can cast without singing. Loudly. Not great for infiltration."

Ulmenglanz gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Someone should stay with Team Green anyway to stand guard, so they can concentrate on harvesting the carcass."

Weylan snapped his fingers. "After you've finished, you could scout the area together to look for the beast's lair. Maybe there are eggs or something. Or maybe you'll find some clue about what caused it to mutate. Could give some extra points."

With gear and responsibilities divided, Team Black regrouped around Ulmenglanz and began moving toward the hive.

While the students at the back were having lively conversations, Ulmenglanz walked at the front. Her expression was unreadable, eyes locked ahead, her steps unnaturally sure. She didn't look tired, despite the ferocity of her earlier attack. If anything, she looked more focused than ever.

Weylan walked behind her and had most of his attention on their surroundings. Selvara was circling above, also on the lookout for danger.

Darken stepped up beside the dryad. "So, what exactly are we looking for in the hive?"

Ulmenglanz didn't break stride. "I don't know yet. But I feel it. Something is pulling me. I have to go. There's something inside the hive. Something meant for me."

Darken shrugged. "So, is it one of the items you have to collect to enable your god Fliedabarr to return?"

She stopped as if struck by an oxcart and stared at him. "How?"

Darken smirked. "By now a lot of information about the planned plotline has leaked. Big part of the main plot would have been to prevent the acolytes of Quorll the Devourer from collecting the parts of his holy symbol they needed for the ritual to resurrect their lost god. The parts were supposed to be hidden in ancient temples, deep dungeons and similar locations. Guarded by traps and riddles."

He stopped as he saw her eyes go out of focus and cursed inwardly. That had been a stupid way to say it. He'd probably have to restart the dialogue after her memory had been rebooted. To his surprise, her eyes refocused and she nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. If you heard of the prophesy of Quorll's return, you can assume the same methods could be used to enable the return of other gods. I would ask for your vow to keep this information secret. The enemies of my god are many. Borkk the usurper of Fliedabarr's domain and the vile god Nistrul among them.

Darken put his hand on his heart and bowed. "You have my vow. This shall be our secret." He looked over to Weylan, who had heard every word. He gave the same gesture. "You have my vow too."

Faya, who'd been behind and busy petting her familiar, looked up. "Is anything wrong? Why did we stop?"

Ulmenglanz smiled at her. "Nothing to worry. Let's continue."

They passed through a narrow bottleneck between two boulders, and the canyon widened again, splitting around a pool of still water. That's when Selvara swooped down and perched on Weylan's shoulder. She leaned in close and whispered, "Potential ambush. Right ridge." Then she cawed a few times for show and fluttered off.

Weylan stepped forward and raised his voice. "Let's take a short break here."

Ulmenglanz blinked at him in surprise, but nodded and passed the order along. The small group gathered near the water's edge to rest and refill their flasks.

While the others relaxed, Weylan slipped into the shadows and ghosted up the canyon path, careful not to disturb a single stone. After about two hundred steps, he spotted movement. Three figures crouched behind a boulder, their focus turned away from him.

He considered calling out to them, asking what they were doing, when a stray shaft of sunlight broke through the canopy and lit their forms.

Definitely not human. Larger. Broader. Covered in thick fur.

Were-folk.

He slowly stepped backwards, when one of them spun around. She was massive and broad-shouldered, her fur a thick, dark brown. A worn leather vest strained across her chest, and matching trousers clung to her muscular frame. No weapons were visible. But none were needed. Power radiated from her half-human, half-beast form. A were-bear.

"State your intent," she growled.

"Um… Just passing by?"

He now had the attention of all three. Behind her, the others also turned. One with lean, mottled fur and a low, wiry stance, snout twitching constantly and claws stained black. Weylan took a moment to identify the species: A were-honeybadger.

The third was tall and rangy, his grey fur streaked with white scars, eyes intelligent and alert: a were-wolf.

The were-bear huffed. "No one comes here just to have a leisurely walk. You're after the honey too, are you?"

Weylan paused. "The… honey?"

All three started to slightly drool and eagerly nod.

Weylan stared at them. "You're going to steal honey. From a hive full of hundreds of giant were-bees?"

The were-wolf shrugged. "It's not like we're the first to do that. One or two teams do that almost every year. Sometimes they succeed, sometimes they get dropped at our lake, poisoned and bloodied. It's not like anyone dies. The bee-queen doesn't even mind if we kill her drones, since they are barely sentient. She does remember we are not as easily replaced. Unless someone harms the brood or tries to enter the queen's inner chambers, she won't use lethal force. One or two backpacks full of honeycombs don't matter much to her."

The were-fox wiggled his ears, then gestured down the valley. "There are more of them. Half a dozen at least."

The were-bear woman grinned, showing more teeth than Weylan liked. "Let's meet up and talk."

They all gathered up, everyone seemed a bit nervous, but no one willing to be the first to show fear. It made for a surreal atmosphere.

Ulmenglanz didn't even blink when she saw the were-folk. "Well met. We're heading to the hive. I hope you don't mind."

The were-bear raised a brow. "Brave or stupid. Which one?"

"We've already killed a level 9 monster today; there's no fear left in us," said Weylan.

"Good answer," the bear said, stepping closer. "I'm Ursa. These two are with me."

Darken groaned loudly. "Ursa? Really? And let me guess. The were-wolf here is called Lupus?." He chuckled. "Who am I kidding. It's never Lupus."

The three were-folk blinked.

Ursa frowned. "Why would he be named Lupus?"

"Latin," Darken said flatly. "An old revenant language. Ursa means bear and lupus means wolf. Lupus is also the name of a sickness, that was a running joke among ancient Earth physicians. Every time someone had strange symptoms, they thought it might be lupus. But it never was. Until it was."

Ursa blinked. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

Darken sighed. "Yes. But only to the one person here who's seen way too many old pre-VR medical dramas."

The were-wolf's ears twitched. "I don't know what any of that means."

The were-wolf gave up trying to understand the strange students. She gestured to the honeybadger. "His name is Hrafnkel, I'm Sigrun."

Weylan gestured at the dark path ahead. "If we're done with introductions, do you plan to stop us?"

Ursa hesitated, then shook her head. "We'll walk a while with you. The canyon doesn't like loners."

The group pressed on, now larger, now stranger. And ahead, the hive loomed.

Silent. Waiting.

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