The Last Primal

As Hephas' partners jumped to attention at the approaching party, the man smiled and visibly relaxed his shoulders after only a few short moments. 

Unlike Ovid, Mikol, and Lyno, who have already long forgotten the group of greenhorns, he, who literally spent the whole day thinking and worrying about their safety, could vividly remember and match the particular signals. 

However, just a moment later, just before his friends could question his strange aloof behavior, he himself suddenly turned stiff. Shortly after the group stepped inside the range of his sensing, another life sign entered shortly after them.

This one felt much more defined, having more depth, more experience to it. Although he couldn't confirm what or who he or she was, it was obvious that a) he was in a rather disheveled, chaotic state based on the chaotic pulses, and b) the entity was much older than the others, somewhere around the decade range of himself, someone in his forties.

Still, although his life signs were much more defined and stronger than the youngsters', it also showed signs of not being at its peak. As if he went through something rather trying, challenging even.

His body went stiff for a moment, several theories quickly assaulted his already spent and weary mind. 

He tightened his grip on his weapon, as his face went cold, he turned towards the underlying darkness beyond the grated gate. 

"Get ready boys. They are coming." He muttered coldly, for which the rest of the group of guards reacted in a similar manner and entered their uniformed battle stance.

The moments passed torturously slow for Hephas and the rest as they focused their [Battle Senses] on the slowly but steadily approaching group. As they got closer, the others also could make out the differences between the group. The group of youngsters, two animals, and then a sixth individual in a rather bedraggled state.

They watched the gate while following the approaching party's route. Their swords held tightly in their hands, their faces radiating a cold sternness, ready to react at the first, tiniest signs of aggression. Although they all had now an idea who the party probably was, the presence of the unknown sixth person, caused their welcome to sour.

After all, somehow that was dragged out from the spew and mucus, the dredges of the underground, couldn't be a light-hearted, positive figure, but someone that had ties to either the horrors that claimed home in that vile space or, and this was what they all feared the most, a member from the rumored neighboring empire's invasion force.

A spy, an agent, a general, an elite combatant? Whoever it was, if it turned out to be the truth, it would spell a dreary tale for the upcoming War Games. It would mean that the nasty gossips and drunkard tales about a possible attack during the event would turn out to be true, spelling the beginnings of a disaster that none were ready to face.

Hephas and his friends could only hope that their worst fears would remain in the land of dreams and imaginations and wouldn't step out from the corner in a few more seconds. The best they could do is to cling to this hope no matter how futile, how hopeless this may turn out to be.

Soon, their party's signals reached the corner just a bit beyond the gate where a sharp left turn shrouded the rest of the city dungeon from the prying eyes. The sounds of pitter-patter, the emerging footsteps of the party of youths have reached their ears, causing a wave of shiver to run through Hephas' group of four and force them to stand at an extreme vigilance.

Even without any intercourse, any clash happening as of yet, sweats began to perspire under the last rays of the setting sun, their focus and minds were at an all-time high today.

Ovid, being closest to the gate, took a step to the side, stepping out of the immediate vision of the band. Whilst keeping his right hand raised in front of his chest and ready to strike at a moment's notice, he slowly, shakily reached for the gate with his left.

Meanwhile, Hephas, Miko, and Lyno spread out, surrounding the gate in a small curved line, Hephas taking the central position and facing directly into the dim tunnel entrance.

Seconds slowly kept passing as the moment of truth slowly crept closer. The group of youngsters could now be heard clearly, their steady but silent pace reaching ever-so closer to the end of the row of the tunnel. In just a second, they would reach the end and would emerge and reveal themselves and their newest companion to Hephas and his group.

The air was stiff, all of them felt uneasy. Depending on what they would see, the next few minutes could even be the beginning of the end for their city and mayhaps even for the kingdom they served for all their lives.

Still, there was that tiny hope, their small spark of light, that kept the life and reason within them: The youngsters seemed and sounded mostly okay, whilst the mysterious stranger felt rather down, and as he or she got closer, rather wounded… 

Eventually, the head of the leading members of the returning party, a pair of hooded cloaks emerged. Although hidden, their figures instantly felt familiar to Hephas. The one on the right, who seemed to be the male whilst the other donning a similar attire looked more feminine, was the same boy that originally talked to them. 

Shortly behind them, another two feminine shapes emerged, at their sides, two large-bodied, strong-looking hounds followed along, their panting looked happy, calm.

Soon, a few steps behind, the last of the party, the duo that the guards were mostly looking forward to and, at the same time, worried about, emerged. 

A tall, brawny, broad-shouldered figure, with short dark grey hair and an unshaven budding stub of a hideous-looking bearded face, appeared. His armor matte black, without any emblems, badges, coat of arms, or even insignias painted on it.

From an initial, quick glance he looked like those average no-name, unpopular mercenaries that only those with just a few extra coins to spare would hire.

Yet, there was a strange feeling, a mysterious, heavier, more dominant presence to the figure betraying this initial outward feel to him.

He was undoubtedly carrying just as much experience as any of the seasoned guards in the city, maybe even more.

However, if that were the case, why did it seem that this man was the captive, rather than being the tormentor of the youths? Going forward, why did it seem that this rough-looking figure feared that lean, long-black-haired youth pushing and nudging him along from behind?

Just what the hell happened down below, and who could this man be?

—

Baffled by this scene, the guards stood frozen in their places even as the party of youngsters reached the end and were looking back at them with calm, collected looks. The two sides silently gazed at each other for several seconds, before the leading man at the right exclaimed in his crips, clear but slightly annoyed tone of voice.

"Could you guys wake up and do your jobs? It was a long day, and I would really like a good meal and finally see my bed!"