This form Hibana now found himself in was clumsy. taking the life of that squirrel hadn't been what he wanted. But he knew—there was no other way.
The torchlight from the bandit stronghold barely reached the ground at his paws. He staggered forward, wobbling on uncertain limbs, every movement a negotiation with unfamiliar instincts. The wooden fence loomed ahead. He crouched low, then leapt.
His tiny limbs gripped the wood with surprising ease. Instinct did what his mind could not.Then—footsteps.A torchlight swept out over the side of the fence.
Hibana froze. He held his breath.
A guard in haphazard leather armor peered down, the flickering firelight illuminated the ground further. He lingered for a moment… then moved on.
Only when the steps faded did Hibana exhale.
He resumed climbing, claws digging into the wood until he reached the top. With one final push, he scurried over and vanished into the nearest patch of shadow along the walkway.
Hibana darted from tent to tent, keeping low, moving fast. The shadows welcomed him—brief, fleeting pockets of safety.
He made his way toward the large wooden hold at the center of the camp.
Along the way, he caught glimpses of guards and bandits scattered across the grounds—tanning leather, forging weapons, laughing around a fire as they traded tales of blood and coin. Their voices echoed with pride, but Hibana didn't stop to listen.
None of it mattered right now.
He had only one purpose: Find Solryn.
Hibana darted across the open field, keeping low to the ground, and made his way toward the large wooden hold at the center of the camp. He slipped beneath its foundation, where the earth had pulled away from the walls, and found a small hole in the floorboards.
Voices. Laughter. Crude, loud, and unfiltered.
He crept closer and peeked up through the gap.
Inside was a mess hall—long table, stained wood, piles of half-eaten food. It reeked of sweat, ale, and old meat. Bandits sat shoulder to shoulder, shouting over one another as they passed around greasy haunches and chipped mugs.
Hibana slipped through the hole and climbed a doorframe, hauling himself onto one of the rafters that stretched across the ceiling. From there, he could see everything. No one seemed to notice him.
Then he saw him—Dekar.Leaning back in his chair. Boots on the table. Grinning like a man who thought the world was his.
One of the bandits kept talking.
"So it was like this. I gut the wretch, and he starts bawling, 'No, not my daughter!'"He snorted."I looked him dead in the eye and said, 'That thing was a woman?'"
The whole table exploded in laughter.
Another lifted his mug.
"Hey, Dekar—tell us about that orange-haired git you killed today!"
Dekar stood and stretched lazily.
"Oh yeah. That one was something special. Had some kinda weird stat-masking ability—never seen anything like it. But still weak as piss. Didn't even know where he was stepping. After I ran him through, he tripped and fell off the cliff like a sack of potatoes."
Another bandit shouted from the corner:
"Ha! Looks like the ground did your job for you again!"
Laughter again—but this time, Dekar didn't laugh.
He turned. Slow. Calculated.
Hibana tensed on the rafter. The atmosphere in the room shifted, as if the fire itself had gone quiet.
Dekar walked—quietly—toward the man who'd spoken.
"That wasn't funny."
The man paled. "C-come on, Dekar, it was just a joke. I didn't mean nothin' by it."
Dekar smiled.
"Oh. Okay."
Without warning, he drew a familiar blade from his belt—Hibana's short sword. He moved almost faster than Hibana's eyes could follow.
The sword rammed up through the man's jaw with a wet crunch. The blade punched through the top of his skull like he was made of paper.
He stood there for a heartbeat—then crumpled, twitching, lifeless.
Dekar yanked the blade free, flicked the blood from its edge, and studied it.
"Yeah. This was the pig-sticker that guy fought with. Not bad, actually. Wanted something to test it on."
He turned back to the others, grinning.
"Well, this party's dying down."
He raised his voice toward the back of the hall.
"Better get more ale!"
A few of the bandits scrambled to the larder, eager to please.
Hibana stared at this monster. This subhuman creature.His little squirrel teeth gnashed.
That's my sword! he thought.
His whole body shook with fury. He wanted to leap down, claws out, and tear the man to pieces. The rafters beneath his feet began to smoke, faint tendrils of steam rising where his heat met the dry wood.
But then…The kobolds came to mind.The lizardmen.Tsu.
But I need to find Solryn! he reminded himself. He has to be in here somewhere!
He leapt from rafter to rafter, then scrambled down a wall and darted into a side room. The hallway beyond was narrow and dimly lit, but Hibana stuck to the shadows, crawling along the top molding and peeking into each chamber.
He spotted Riven in one of the rooms—alone. A cozy office with a small fireplace. Riven sat at a desk, leafing through papers, his expression unreadable. Hibana paused, then shook his head and moved on.
He reached a staircase and descended the banister like a streak of copper lightning.
At the bottom, he froze.
Two guards stood outside a wooden door. There was a small window in it—just wide enough for a squirrel to slip through.
Hibana crept above them, clinging to the ceiling beam, inching forward with delicate care. The guards were looking ahead, bored, inattentive.
He dropped down, clinging to the frame. One breath. One slip. Then—he was through.
Inside, the room was dim and cold.Tied to a post in the center, slumped and tired looking, was Solryn.
Hibana landed softly on the floor.
Solryn glanced up, his eyes half-lidded and dry.
"Pfft," he muttered, voice raspy. "If you're looking for food, vermin… I'm afraid you're too late."
Hibana crept closer to Solryn, careful not to make a sound.
"Ew!" Solryn recoiled, kicking weakly at him. Hibana darted back, startled.
Then it hit him.
Oh right… I'm a squirrel.
He raised one clawed digit to his mouth, motioning for silence.
Solryn blinked. Then squinted.
"Wait a minute…" he whispered, eyes narrowing. "You're one orange squirrel."
There was a pause.
"Is that you, Hibana?"
Hibana nodded once, briskly.
Solryn's expression shifted from confusion to wide-eyed astonishment.
He leaned in and whispered, "So that True Polymorph of yours is starting to get pretty damn impressive."
Solryn looked up at the door. he then whispered. "Untie me!"
Hibana nodded and scampered behind Solryn. He found the thick rope binding his arms and sank his teeth into it, chewing steadily.
"Now listen, Hibana," Solryn whispered. "Once you untie me, I'll be able to move my arms. That means I can cast properly again. I'll get us out of here—and create a distraction big enough for you to escape too."
Hibana gnawed faster, the fibers giving way.
Solryn gave a faint, lopsided smile. "Looks like this is the second time you've saved my life."
The rope snapped. Solryn twisted his wrists, fumbling with the last of the restraints until his hands came free. Without hesitation, he raised both palms toward the door.
Hibana flinched as he felt the magical surge build.
"Air of the heavens, beseech me! Gale Slam!"
A concussive burst of wind exploded outward, blasting the door clean off its hinges. It slammed into the two guards standing just outside, hurling them backward into the opposite wall. They collapsed in a heap—unmoving.
Solryn dusted off his tunic and bolted down the hallway.
Hibana followed—but he wasn't nearly as fast.
He passed the two unconscious guards lying in the corridor. Then he stopped.
He transformed—back into his human form. Clothes or not, he needed to speak again.
"God, this guy's clothing stinks," he muttered, quickly stripping one of the guards and throwing the ill-fitting gear over himself. The tunic was damp. The pants too short. But it would do.
He picked up the fallen guard's spear and took a breath.
Then he ran.
A horn sounded in the distance.
Hibana rushed outside the hold just in time to see Solryn blast through the camp's front gate with a fire spell. Flames scattered across the road, and bandits shouted in confusion as nearly all of them gave chase into the wilderness beyond.
Then—"Hey, you!"
Hibana turned.
Dekar stood behind him.
"Hey, what are you doing? After him! …Wait..."Dekar squinted, stepping closer."You're not one of us. Wait… I know you.I killed you!"
Hibana said nothing. He began walking forward.
Dekar grinned, unsheathing his sword."Should'a run, boy!"
He lunged.
Hibana deflected the strike with ease.
He kept his eyes on Dekar's off-hand. It was reaching—another powder pill.
Hibana bared his teeth. In a flash, he kicked the pill from Dekar's fingers, sending it skittering across the dirt.
Dekar stumbled back, caught off guard.
Then he roared and charged again.
Hibana sidestepped, parried once more—and caught Dekar by the throat.
His grip tightened.
Dekar struggled. Twitched. Then went still.
Hibana's eyes glowed green as he crushed the man's neck like dry bark and cast the lifeless body aside.
He walked over to the corpse and pulled his short sword from Dekar's belt. He let the spear clatter to the ground, slid the familiar weapon into place, and turned away.
Hibana noticed a few bandits had stayed behind. They were approaching, slowly encircling him. He unsheathed his sword again, eyes glowing green.
"Let me pass. I have no quarrel with any of you."
They didn't listen.
More were emerging from the ruins. The circle began to close.
Hibana gripped his sword tighter, ready to act.
Then—
"Stand down!"
The voice cut through the tension like a blade.
The bandits hesitated.
"But sir, he—"
"I said stand down!"
Hibana turned.
There, standing in the doorway of the hold, was a tall figure in black armor. Calm. Commanding.
Riven.
He descended the steps into the courtyard and stopped a fair distance from Hibana.
"My name is Riven. Riven Alabaster."He tilted his head slightly. "And who are you, F-tier?"
Hibana lowered his weapon. "My name is Hibana."
Riven glanced at the body nearby.
"You killed Dekar with ease. Freed my prisoner. Infiltrated my camp."He chuckled. "You know, I've been hearing rumors—at least, I think they're about you. I heard some F-tier humiliated my little brother, Kurt. I'm willing to bet that was you. Am I correct in my assessment?"
Hibana blinked. Kurt? That terrible man with the naginata.
He nodded. "Yes. That was me. But I wasn't given any choice."
Riven raised both hands in mock celebration. "But I approve!" he said with a grin. "You see—I've been telling my scouts to look for the man who drove Kurt into a tantrum he still hasn't recovered from. He wouldn't tell me what you looked like, but he couldn't stop screaming about a 'filthy F-tier' who humiliated him."
He smiled wider.
"So I said to myself: anyone who could do that to Kurt deserves a chance to join us. Your mage friend? Just a bonus."
Hibana stepped back. "Join you? Why would I ever want to do something like that?"
Riven's arms dropped to his sides.
"Well, you see, Hibana… I have a dream. A dream where the outcasts of this world are no longer stepped on. A place where the filthy Church and the blasted Adventurer's Guild have no power. A place where we can take what we want from any bloody kingdom we choose."
He took one step closer.
"With your strength—we'd be unstoppable."
Hibana looked at the bandits around him. Faces filled with fear. Confusion. Hope, maybe. Then he looked back to Riven.
"I see," he said quietly. "So what happens when people who don't want to fight try to join your cause?"
Riven blinked, slightly caught off guard.
"What if they just want to live here? What if they just want peace?"
Hibana took a step forward.
Riven scoffed. "Peace? There can't be peace until our enemies are in the ground! If we're to free this world and make it equal for everyone, we have to bathe the land in the blood of any who would oppose us! Such is the divine law of Ordos!"
Hibana looked around at the camp—war tents, a wall, a fortified hold at the center. He could see it now, twisted into a great metropolis. A new ruling class rising atop it. New chains. New doctrines. And all of it draped in the same hollow name: Ordos.
This would not do.
There was no place here for the tired and weary. No rest for the old or the young. This was not a haven. It was a forge—for warriors, and slaves.
"You offer freedom. But you only speak the language of conquest."
He raised his sword.
"I'm fluent in another."
Riven lowered his arms. "So I take it you refuse to join us?"
"You should join me instead," Hibana said.
Riven laughed. "Why on Amatus would I want to join a worthless dreamer like you? Peace? Understanding? What next—maypoles in the grass while children sing songs about puppies and rainbows?"
Hibana shook his head. "You mock me, Riven... but I think you'd like such a world more than you know"
Riven raised his weapon.
"No. You're just another coward who can't accept reality! Well then—allow me to show you how this world really works!Men! This bastard is mine!"
He pointed his blade.
"Have at you!"