Seven Sins System Chapter 685. Shadowrae Hollow I

Seven Sins System Chapter 685. Shadowrae Hollow I

I activated another scan sweep—nothing in the immediate vicinity. Just the thick mana residue of what had once been monsters now reduced to smoking corpses. Steam curled upward. The smell? Burned wood, blood, and mana-scorched earth. The kind of scent you never quite forgot.

From the far ridge, Julia gave me a nod as she regrouped her team. Her armor was dusted with ash, but her stance was steady. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

I nodded back.

Puriel—Aria—stood beside her, blade resting on her shoulder. She looked my way. For a second, I thought she might smile.

But she didn’t.

Just watched.

Then turned away.

I sighed.

“Alright,” I said to my squad. “Catch your breath. We're moving again in five. If you need healing, get over here. If you're Barry—sit still and stop posing.”

He sighed dramatically. “No appreciation for performance art.”

Ion kicked a bit of monster bone. “You’re the reason we need weekly therapy recaps.”

Evie flopped on a mossy log, exhaling hard. “Worth it though.”

Claire just cleaned her blade. Quiet. Calm. Composed. Like she hadn’t just helped kill two monsters twice their level.

Not even a smudge of sweat on her brow. Just the slow, precise wipe of cloth over steel, like a chef tidying her favorite knife after slicing through a dragon roast.

I took a deep breath, checked our vitals one last time on my portable scanner—light glyph projection, field-tuned to everyone’s biometrics. The academy standard procedure.

“Alright,” I said, my voice cutting through the post-fight buzz. “Rest time’s over. We move now. Sector C, north ridge. That’s our next checkpoint.”

A collective murmur of “Okay” rolled through the team, soft but steady. Not tired, not hesitant. Just… ready.

Barry was already halfway to the transport, humming some weird battle victory song like he’d just won a tournament.

“Barry—”

Too late.

Clunk.

The armored vehicle’s doors hissed shut right in front of him.

He froze. One hand still mid-air, palm hovering an inch from the sealed panel.

We all deadpanned.

“...Seriously?” he said, turning back to us with the look of a betrayed toddler locked out of recess.

“With foot, Barry,” I said dryly. “Not ride.”

“Why?” he whined, dropping his arms like gravity had just gotten personal.

I gestured forward. The trail ahead curved into dense, narrow forest. The trees looked like they’d been braided by ancient mana—gnarled roots crisscrossing the path like twisted ribs. Thick mist pooled low across the underbrush, and if you squinted, you could see faint glimmers of mana flickers floating like lazy fireflies.

“Do you think that big thing,” I gestured back at the transport, “can squeeze its fat ass through there without eating a tree or five?”

Barry blinked. Looked at the trail. Looked at the transport. Then slowly nodded. “Okay, yeah. Fair.”

“C’mon,” I said, slinging my medpack over my shoulder.

He groaned dramatically but followed. “Do I at least get mileage points for walking?”

“Nope,” Ion said, already flicking his daggers back into his ring with a grin. “But we will laugh if you trip over a root.”

“What about the others?” Darren asked, glancing toward the rest of the squads regrouping back by the crash site.

“They’ve got their own routes and targets,” I said. “We split territory. Command’s rerouting all active teams to contain sector-specific threats. North ridge is ours.”

Claire snapped her rapier into its sheath and stepped up beside me. “Formation?”

“You lead,” I nodded. “I’ll stay backline. Standard field spread. Keep tight spacing—we’re in unknown mana density now.”

She nodded once. No hesitation.

We started walking.

But just before Barry got too far ahead, I turned to him and added, “Oh—right. Just a reminder.”

He paused. “Yeah?”

I gave him a slow smile. “Don’t scream = don’t die.”

Barry blinked. Then nodded with mock solemnity. “Got it, Doc.”

I glanced to Ion and Darren.

They both nodded too.

Evie was already ahead, eyes scanning the mist like she’d switched into full elemental radar mode. Her ears twitched at every tiny mana ripple in the air.

The forest closed around us fast. One minute we were under the broad daylight of the outer ridge—and the next, it was like we’d stepped inside a bottled storm. Everything went quieter. More compressed. The trees pressed in, trunks slick with dew and something darker.

Claire raised a hand and signaled a slow sweep.

We moved like clockwork.

Evie walked with her hands out, fingers flexing. Wind spirals danced between them—gentle, quiet, but ready to explode into force at a twitch.

Ion and Darren flanked her, blades and bow already primed in their rings.

Barry took point left, his body language loose but sharp. Spear not summoned yet—but the stance was there. That weird confident looseness he got when he was actually paying attention.

And me?

I walked behind them.

Watching.

Listening.

Sensing.

I wasn’t just a medic.

Not really.

I was their shield.

Their fail-safe.

Their final line.

And I took that seriously. No, I wasn’t too worried about Evie and Claire. But with the trio.

The deeper we got, the stranger it became.

The light was tinted. Not just dim—wrong. Like the sunlight was bleeding through algae-soaked glass. The air buzzed. Not with insects, but with mana. Like static clinging to your skin.

Claire raised a fist.

We stopped.

She crouched, touched a patch of moss beside a crooked root.

There. Footprints. Three-toed. Heavy. Clawed.

Fresh.

She gestured with two fingers—standard enemy contact sign.

Ion stepped forward silently, his eyes scanning every shadow. Darren moved into position, drawing an arrow and setting the nock without a sound.

Evie whispered, “East. Three moving. Slow.”

“Hostile?” I asked.

She paused. Focused.

“Mixed.”

I didn’t like that answer.

We edged forward.

Then we saw them.

Three creatures, hunched and twitchy. Their skin was rough bark, their limbs too long. Glowing red eyes. Thornspawn. Classic ambushers.

But two of them… didn’t move. They just stood there. Watching. Breathing, if you could call the slow rise and fall of their thorn-choked chests breathing. The third one hissed, raised its arm—thorns bristled.

Claire didn’t wait. “Take it out.”