Chapter 81: Golden Pelt Grotto – First Floor

The journey to the Golden Pelt Grotto was nothing short of exhilarating. The sun blazed overhead, its golden rays illuminating the sprawling hills and casting dappled patterns through the dense canopy of the surrounding forest. Alaric’s stallion, a majestic beast with a midnight-black coat that gleamed under the sunlight, carried him forward with effortless grace. The rhythmic thud of hooves against the earth harmonized with the rustle of leaves in the breeze, creating a symphony of adventure. Each breath Alaric took was filled with the scents of pine and rich soil, and the promise of what lay ahead.

As the Silver Raven Guild’s camp came into view, nestled amidst a clearing at the edge of the forest, Alaric felt a swell of anticipation. The banners bearing the guild’s sigil flapped gently in the breeze, and the camp’s organized chaos was a sight to behold. Tents of varying sizes stood proud, their canvas tops catching the afternoon light. Around them, guild members busied themselves with preparations—sharpening weapons, repairing armor, and exchanging boisterous laughter that carried on the wind.

And there she was. Rosalind.

Even among the throng of adventurers, Rosalind stood out like a blazing ember against a backdrop of smoke. Her crimson hair shimmered in the sunlight, cascading down her back in soft waves. She wore fitted leather armor that accentuated her curves, her figure a striking balance of strength and femininity. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled as they locked onto Alaric, and her lips curved into a radiant smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Alaric!” she called out, her voice warm and inviting. She strode toward him with purpose, her movements as fluid as the wind.

Before he could dismount, Rosalind reached him, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist in a fierce hug. Alaric leaned into the embrace, relishing the feel of her body pressed against his. She smelled of leather, faintly sweet perfume, and the distinct tang of magic. His hands moved instinctively, trailing over her back, savoring the curve of her waist. He let his palms drift lower, cupping the firm swell of her backside. He gave it a playful squeeze, his fingers digging into the supple leather.

“Alaric,” Rosalind gasped, her breath hitching as she glanced around furtively, cheeks tinged with a deep blush. “Not here.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, tinged with a mixture of amusement and warning. “We’ll have time for that later.”

Grinning against her hair, he gave her another fond squeeze before pulling back. “Can’t wait for that,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “But don’t expect me to let you off lightly when the time comes.”

Rosalind’s lips twitched into a smirk despite the blush still painting her cheeks. She swatted his chest lightly, then grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the center of the camp. “Come on. Let me introduce you to the others. Behave yourself in front of them, will you?”

“I’ll try,” Alaric replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The camp bustled with energy as they weaved through the crowd. Alaric’s sharp gaze took in every detail: the assortment of weapons laid out for inspection, the rows of armor being polished until they gleamed, the subtle undercurrent of tension that always accompanied adventurers on the brink of a dangerous mission.

Near the largest tent, a group was gathered around a roaring fire pit. Rosalind led him straight to them, her hand still warm in his. The group turned as they approached, their conversations halting as curious eyes landed on Alaric.

“Everyone,” Rosalind announced, her voice carrying with an effortless authority. “This is Alaric, my younger brother. He’ll be joining us on the raid.”

There was a beat of silence before the group broke into murmurs of greeting, their expressions shifting from curiosity to respect. Alaric offered a polite smile, his emerald eyes sweeping over the faces of those who would be his comrades in the coming days. Four of them stood out immediately, each exuding an aura of capability and strength.

Illona was the first to step forward. Her long, wavy blonde hair framed a face of regal beauty, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to glow with latent power. The shimmering runes embroidered on her robes hinted at her mastery of magic. Extending a delicate but confident hand, she spoke, her voice clear and melodic. “A pleasure, Alaric. Rosalind’s spoken highly of you.”

“She has, has she?” Alaric replied, his lips curving into a faintly mischievous smile. He shot Rosalind a teasing glance. “I hope she kept it honest.”

Illona chuckled, a rich and warm sound. “Oh, she did. Though she might’ve exaggerated a little,” she added with a playful glint in her eyes, clearly testing him.

Alaric held her gaze, his own filled with an innocent charm that masked a more calculated edge. “Exaggerated? Now, that’s a claim I’ll have to live up to.”

Next to step forward was Merja, her striking raven hair and sharp hazel eyes radiating an aura of confidence. Clad in supple leather armor that mirrored Rosalind’s but with intricate engravings that suggested agility and precision, she offered him a nod. “Welcome to the team,” she said smoothly, her voice measured and calm. “Word is you’re not just any mage—you’re a prodigy. Let’s hope you can live up to the stories.”

“I’ll do my best,” Alaric replied with an easy grin, letting his gaze linger on her. “And if I don’t, you’ll have to be the one to teach me better.”

Merja quirked a brow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Oh, don’t worry. If you disappoint, you’ll hear about it.”

“Then I’ll make it my mission to keep that smirk exactly where it is,” he said, his tone lighthearted but with just enough edge to suggest sincerity. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across her features.

Halvard, the group’s leader, stepped forward with the weight of a seasoned warrior. His thick beard and boulder-like chest spoke of countless battles, his presence commanding the space around him. Extending a hand, he gripped Alaric’s forearm in a firm shake. “Welcome, Alaric,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “Rosalind’s told us you’re sharp as a blade and twice as deadly. We’ll be counting on you.”

Alaric met his gaze, mirroring the firmness in his handshake. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

Lastly, Goran, a burly figure with rugged features and scarred armor, offered a nod of acknowledgment. “Stick with us, and you’ll be fine,” he said, his voice gravelly but kind. “We’re not an easy bunch to keep up with, but we’ve got each other’s backs.”

“Good to know,” Alaric said, nodding. “I’ll make sure to pull my weight.”

Rosalind, standing beside him, couldn’t hide her pride. “He’ll be fine,” she assured them, her voice firm with conviction. “Trust me, he’s tougher than he looks.”

Halvard chuckled, his tone light but purposeful. “We’ll see about that tomorrow. The Golden Pelt Grotto’s not for the faint of heart. Until then, rest up.”

As the group dispersed, Rosalind leaned toward Alaric, her voice low but teasing. “Behave yourself. You don’t want them to think you’re too cocky just yet.”

“Me? Cocky?” Alaric replied, his voice dripping with mock indignation. “I’m the picture of humility.”

Hours passed as the camp buzzed with preparation. Alaric wandered, observing the guild members sharpening blades, repairing armor, and strategizing with meticulous detail. He greeted them with a mix of deference and charm, quickly earning curious glances and respectful nods. Rosalind stayed close, ensuring he felt at ease in the unfamiliar environment.

Near sunset, Alaric found himself sitting near a fire pit, the orange glow highlighting his sharp features. Merja and Illona approached, their animated conversation trailing off as they joined him. Alaric rose slightly, offering a seated bow with exaggerated formality. “Ladies, to what do I owe the honor?”

Illona laughed softly, shaking her head. “Just checking on the new recruit.”

“Ah, worried I might run off?” he asked, his smile playful.

Merja’s lips quirked upward. “More like wondering if you’re as good as they say.”

“Why don’t I demonstrate right now?” Alaric said, leaning slightly closer, his tone suggestive.

Illona smirked, clearly amused. “I think we’ll save that for the dungeon.”

“Wise,” he replied, his gaze flicking between them, the intensity masked by his lighthearted tone. “But don’t think I’ll hold back.”

Merja shook her head, chuckling. “You’re confident, I’ll give you that.”

“You’ll give me much more than that by the time this is over,” he quipped with a wink. Both women laughed, attributing his antics to youthful exuberance.

The camp settled as the stars began to twinkle overhead. Alaric’s thoughts turned inward, his resolve strengthening. He would not only prove himself to this team but ensure his position among them was cemented, no matter what it took.

The Silver Raven Guild’s camp buzzed with life as the last of the platoons arrived, swelling the ranks to full strength. Tents popped up quickly, their placement so practiced it seemed second nature. The guild’s banners waved proudly in the breeze, their silver and black insignias glinting in the fading light. The air was filled with the smell of stews simmering over campfires, mingling with the sharp scent of freshly oiled weapons. Alaric stood at the edge of the activity, his emerald eyes taking in the organized chaos. This wasn’t just a mission—it was a moment of unity, a shared purpose among comrades.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the guild gathered around a large fire pit for their final meal before the raid. Flames danced in the twilight, casting flickering light over the assembled warriors and mages. Conversations ebbed and flowed, punctuated by laughter and the occasional clinking of armor. Alaric took a seat next to Rosalind, whose crimson hair glimmered like embers in the firelight. She leaned in as Illona recounted a particularly funny story, her laughter soft and contagious.

Beneath the cover of camaraderie, Alaric let his hand rest lightly on Rosalind’s thigh. His fingers traced absent-minded circles, and she stiffened for a moment before shooting him a quick, playful glare. Her emerald eyes sparkled with both warning and amusement.

“I can’t wait to have you all to myself,” Alaric murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

Rosalind’s cheeks turned a shade darker, and she swatted at his hand. “Behave,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of conversation.

Alaric smirked and, with a flick of his wrist, gave her a light tap on the backside. The sharp sound earned a startled gasp from Rosalind, who glared at him, her lips threatening to curl into a smile.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said with a grin.

Before Rosalind could retort, Halvard stood, his imposing figure instantly commanding attention. “Tomorrow, we face the Golden Pelt Grotto,” he announced, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. “Get some rest. You’ll need every ounce of strength.”

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the air crisp with promise. The guild moved with quiet determination, preparing their weapons and armor. Alaric adjusted the straps of his robes, his spellbook hanging securely at his side. Rosalind caught his eye and smiled, her confidence a steadying force.

The entrance to the Golden Pelt Grotto loomed ahead, a dark, gaping maw carved into the rock. The group advanced cautiously, their boots crunching on the gravel path. As they stepped inside, the temperature dropped, and the air grew damp, the faint scent of decay lingering.

Low growls echoed through the cavern, sending a shiver down Alaric’s spine. Twilight Wolves emerged from the shadows, their ember-like eyes glowing with a predatory light. Their sleek, dark fur rippled with the faint light of the cavern, making them appear ghostly and unreal.

“Formation!” Halvard barked, raising his massive sword. “Mages, support from the back. Melee fighters, hold the line.”

The wolves struck like a storm, their speed and coordination remarkable. Halvard met the first wave head-on, his greatsword glowing faintly with the rune of “Shatterstrike.” With a thunderous swing, he cleaved through one wolf, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. Goran followed, his mace smashing into another wolf’s flank with a sickening crunch.

Merja darted through the chaos, her twin daggers flashing in the dim light. Her agility was unmatched as she sidestepped lunges and struck with precision. “Shadowstep!” she called, vanishing in a puff of dark mist and reappearing behind a wolf to drive her blades deep into its neck.

Illona stood at the rear, her voice calm and steady. “Arcane Barrage!” she chanted, unleashing a volley of glowing orbs. The spells streaked through the air, slamming into the wolves with fiery explosions. Her accuracy was lethal, every orb finding its mark.

Rosalind stepped forward, her hands weaving an intricate pattern in the air. “Flame Lance!” she shouted, conjuring a blazing spear that shot forward, impaling two wolves at once. They howled in pain before collapsing, their bodies smoldering.

“Nice shot!” Alaric called, his own hands crackling with energy.

“Focus on your own spells,” Rosalind shot back, though her smirk betrayed her amusement.

Alaric grinned and raised his hands. “Frost Nova!” he declared. A wave of freezing energy exploded outward, encasing several wolves in ice. Goran took the opportunity to shatter the frozen creatures with a swing of his mace.

Despite the guild’s coordination, the wolves’ relentless attacks began to take their toll. A particularly large wolf lunged at Illona, its claws aiming for her throat. Alaric reacted instantly. “Barrier Surge!” he shouted, conjuring a shimmering shield that deflected the attack. Illona nodded her thanks before retaliating with a “Lightning Bolt” that struck the wolf down.

The air grew heavier as the Alpha Twilight Wolf emerged. It was larger than the others, its fur streaked with silver and its glowing eyes blazing with intelligence and malice. The Alpha let out a chilling howl, rallying the remaining wolves.

Halvard charged, his sword glowing brighter with power. “Hold the line!” he roared. His first strike collided with the Alpha’s massive paw, the impact reverberating through the cavern and sending Halvard stumbling back.

Rosalind, Merja, and Goran flanked the Alpha, their attacks synchronized. Rosalind cast “Mana Chain,” binding the Alpha temporarily, while Goran’s mace smashed into its flank. The beast broke free with a violent shake, its strength overwhelming.

Alaric watched in horror as the Alpha turned on Merja, its fangs bared and ready to strike. Acting on instinct, he raised his hands. “Blinding Radiance!” he shouted, flooding the cavern with a burst of searing light. The Alpha yelped and staggered, disoriented. Merja scrambled to her feet, her face pale but determined.

“You saved my life,” she said breathlessly, her gratitude clear.

“Just don’t let it happen again,” Alaric replied, sweat trickling down his face.

The Alpha recovered quickly, its fury undiminished. Rosalind shouted, “Cover me!” as she began to channel a powerful spell. Alaric cast “Enfeeble,” sapping the Alpha’s strength and slowing its movements. Halvard seized the opportunity, his “Crushing Cleave” carving deep into the Alpha’s shoulder. Goran followed with a devastating swing of his mace.

“Flame Nova!” Rosalind’s voice rang out, her spell erupting in a wave of fire that engulfed the Alpha. The beast staggered, its fur singed, but it refused to fall. Illona added her “Arcane Spear,” the glowing projectile piercing its side.

“One more push!” Halvard bellowed, his voice rallying the group.

Alaric cast “Haste” on the melee fighters, their movements becoming a blur. Rosalind unleashed her final spell, “Infernal Lance,” the fiery projectile striking the Alpha squarely in the chest. The beast let out a deafening roar before collapsing, its massive body hitting the ground with a resounding thud.

The guild stood in the aftermath, breathing heavily. Injuries were tended to as the adrenaline subsided. Goran groaned but waved off help, his grin reassuring the others.

Rosalind approached Alaric, her expression a mix of exhaustion and pride. “You did good,” she said softly.

“We all did,” Alaric replied, meeting her gaze. Their bond, unspoken but unbreakable, felt stronger than ever.

The first floor was cleared, but the dungeon’s deeper challenges awaited. Together, the Silver Raven Guild pressed on, their determination unshaken.