Biocores: The Legendary Weapon Designer

"We cannot linger here," Nioh declared, his voice firm despite the exhaustion gnawing at him.

"Let me fix your bandages," Kyle offered, already reaching for the torn fabric across Nioh’s chest. His fingers worked with practiced efficiency, pressing against bruised flesh as he tightened the wrappings. Nioh didn’t resist—his body was too drained to protest, and Kyle’s treatment, though rough, was necessary.

Meanwhile, Brae and Juith moved to scout the perimeter, their weapons at the ready. Trum, still mortified by his reaction from the night before, remained silent, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his shame.

"How far have we strayed from the path?" Nioh asked, breaking the silence.

Kyle glanced up at the sky, his brow furrowing as he scanned the unfamiliar terrain. The land had shifted drastically, its landmarks distorted in the chaotic aftermath of their escape. He exhaled slowly. "I’m not sure. Everything looks different—I might need more time to find the right way."

Brae returned moments later, her expression tense. "There are signs of a struggle not far from here. We’re not alone."

Nioh’s jaw tightened. "We need to get out of spider territory before nightfall."

Without hesitation, the team pressed forward, this time moving at a much faster pace. The horrors of the night still clung to them like a second skin, urging them to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the death traps lurking in the dark. But while the silent spiders ruled the night, daylight brought no solace—mercenaries prowled these lands, and evading them required just as much caution.

Nioh’s wounds throbbed with every step. His biocore energy was being funneled into healing, but the relentless movement hindered the process. The pain dulled, but the exhaustion never left, lingering beneath the surface like a slow-burning ember.

Then—

A sudden harmonic wave pulsed through the air.