Guns rose in unison.

Metal clicked softly as fingers settled onto triggers, barrels aligned toward the forest ahead.

The tribal figures stepped fully into view now.

More than fifty of them.

Men and women alike.

Some held flaming torches that painted their faces in shifting orange light. Others carried bows already drawn, arrows steady and unwavering, aimed directly at the ruins. Every single one of them wore pure white fabric, simple yet ceremonial, cloth flowing lightly with the forest breeze.

On every forehead, without exception, the same symbol was marked.

A half moon.

Drawn in deep red.

The tension hit the treasure hunters like a physical weight.

Hilda swallowed hard and instinctively stepped back, retreating behind the men she had brought with her. Her hands trembled despite her attempt to steady them.

Artem’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. His grip on the rifle tightened until his knuckles turned white. His eyes burned as memories surged forward uninvited. His father. Blood. A missing arm.

Artem spoke through clenched teeth.

“Take your aim”

Weapons aligned more precisely.

The tribal formation shifted.

They parted calmly, deliberately, creating a path down the center.

Someone was coming forward.

An old woman stepped into the open space.

Her back was straight.

Her steps were slow but certain.

Her hair was silver, braided intricately and resting against her shoulder. Lines crossed her face, not of weakness, but of time and authority. She carried no weapon, only a staff carved

with symbols that mirrored those etched faintly into the bark of the massive tree behind the ruins.

The tribespeople followed her movement without sound.

Elias’ voice cut through the silence, sharp and impatient.

“Shoot them”

Several fingers twitched.

Just as the triggers were about to be pulled, Basil shouted.

“Hold the fire. Do not shoot”

The words echoed against the wooden boundary.

Elias turned on him, eyes blazing.

“What is it, old man?”

Basil did not answer immediately.

Instead, he looked around.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Others followed his gaze.

Torches flickered.

Shadows shifted.

And realization hit.

They were surrounded.

From all sides.

Between trees.

Behind the ruins.

Along the boundary.

Silent figures stood where moments ago there had been only darkness.

Kaelo’s breath hitched. “What do we do? We should start firing.”

Miles finally spoke, his voice calm, almost detached. “If we fire no one leaves alive from here. We may have machine guns but we are outnumbered. Even if we kill them they will kill us too, that is not our end goal here, we don’t want casualties “

Basil nodded slowly “He is right”

Elias hissed. “They will kill us anyway”

Basil shook his head slightly. “The woman walking in the middle is their leader. If they wanted us dead this place would already be burning”

Kaelo snapped back “So what do you suggest? We die without fighting”

Basil met his eyes steadily. “No. We talk”

Elias laughed sharply. “Are you kidding?”

Basil did not flinch.

“It is not only tonight we need to survive. We still have days ahead. We still have to transport the treasure. We still have to reach extraction”

Silence followed.

The tribal group advanced.

Slow.

Measured.

The old woman passed through the gate first, stepping into the ruins as if she had never left them in the first place. The others followed behind her, forming a crescent around her position.

Guns remained trained on them.

Bows remained drawn.

Neither side lowered their weapons.

The woman raised her staff slightly and spoke.

Her voice was deep and resonant, carrying effortlessly across the clearing.

She spoke ancient and commanding.

“chandrah raktavarnam dhatte andhakaram ch grasati.”

Confusion rippled through the treasure hunters.

Whispers followed.

Miles’ lips curved into a faint smirk.

Monk spoke quietly, his eyes fixed on the woman.

“She speaks Sanskrit”

The woman’s gaze shifted subtly, locking onto Miles for the briefest moment.

Then she spoke again, this time in clear, deliberate English.

“Outsiders are not allowed in our holy lands.”

A murmur spread.

Elias’ eyes widened slightly.

“She speaks English”

The old lady let her gaze drift slowly across the clearing.

Cold.

Unblinking.

Her eyes lingered on the gun barrels still aimed in her direction, on the tension etched into unfamiliar faces, on the sweat that betrayed fear even when mouths stayed shut.

Basil inhaled sharply. “Guns down everyone”

No one moved.

The forest crackled softly as torches burned.

“I said guns down”

A heavy pause followed.

Artem swallowed hard. A single drop of sweat slid from his temple, tracing the curve of his cheek. His hands trembled despite his effort to steady them.

Elias gave a slow nod.

One by one, rifles lowered.

Not dropped.

Not relaxed.

Just angled toward the ground, fingers still close enough to fire at the slightest provocation.

The lady lifted her hand gently.

At her signal, the bows loosened. Arrows were lowered, tips pointing to the earth, strings slack but ready.

No one truly let their guard down.

The silence between them was sharp enough to cut.

Basil took a careful step forward.

“Lady, we mean no harm. We lost our way and we are travelling to find a way out. We have no ill intentions”

The woman’s lips curved into something that was not quite a smile.

“Lies”

Her voice was steady, heavy with certainty.

“Outsiders always lie. You come with weapons that can tear mountains apart and you tell me you are lost”

She took another step forward, the half moon on her forehead catching the firelight.

“A day before, your men tried to attack my people. You know what we did to them?”

A murmur spread through the treasure hunters.

Faces shifted.

Realization.

Fear.

Basil’s throat tightened.

“That was a mistake. We truly did not mean harm. We will rest and move on”

The woman studied him.

“What is your name?”

“I am Basil”

“Well Basil, I am Zella. Chief of my people”

Her gaze sharpened.

“So I will speak to the chief of you outsiders. Tell me, who is your master?”

Basil hesitated.

His eyes flicked toward Elias.

Elias stiffened, caught off guard.

Before either could speak, Artem stepped forward.

“Master is not here. He stayed behind with another group. We are waiting for him here. They will arrive tomorrow”

The words tumbled out too fast.

Too wrong.

Confusion rippled through the group.

Kaelo leaned toward Elias and whispered.

“What is he talking about?”

“I do not know. Be quiet. Let him handle it first”

Miles watched from the side, lips curling faintly.

“What a fool!”

Maddock barely suppressed a chuckle.

Zella turned her attention fully to Artem.

“You..”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What is your name?”

“I am Artem”

“You look familiar”

Artem forced a smile.

“I have a common face”

Zella exhaled slowly.

“Outsiders are not welcome in this forest. But we respect warriors who survive it”

She looked around at the tired, wounded, shaken men.

“So we will give you a chance”

Hope flickered across several faces.

“We will wait for your master. Tomorrow we will meet him. There is something I need to discuss with your master. After that, you may leave”

A collective breath was about to be released.

Then her voice hardened.

“But I want two of you to come with us”

Whispers erupted instantly.

Basil raised his hand. “Quiet”

He stepped forward without hesitation. “I will come”

Zella nodded. “Good”

Her gaze shifted back to Artem. “You will come too”

Artem’s eyes widened. “Me But”

“Do not worry” Zella’s tone softened slightly.

“We will treat you as guests. You said your master arrives tomorrow. You come with us today. Tomorrow we will return together. You meet your master and then you are free. Take what you need”

Elias started forward. “But”

Basil cut him off with a glance.

“Do not worry. We will be safe. You be ready with the master”

Elias understood.

Finish what needs to be done.

No one argued further.

Basil and Artem collected their bags and stepped toward the tribal group.

Torches flared brighter.

The forest glowed orange again as figures melted back into the trees from every direction, as if the woods itself was reclaiming them.

Elias watched them go, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

Miles turned toward him.

“You let them go so easily. Afraid of them??”

Elias scoffed.

“You think they are easy to handle. We do not know them. For all we know there may be no tribe left by morning. No master needed”

“So confident”

Miles shrugged lightly.

“I suppose I will give you that point. I am sleepy now”

Elias turned to the others.

“We proceed as planned. We explore the ruins in the morning”

The camp settled uneasily.

….

Few hours later, the torches slowed and the forest opened its arms.

What stood before Basil and Artem was not a scattering of huts, not a fragile camp clinging to survival.

It was stone.

Walls of rock rose from the earth itself, seamless and ancient, wrapped in moss and roots as if the forest had chosen to protect it rather than devour it. Watch paths ran along the top of the walls. Lamps burned with steady amber light. Inside, rows of solid houses stood in quiet order, roofs tiled, doors reinforced, windows carved with symbols of the half moon.

It was not a camp.

It was a town.

Artem stopped walking without realizing it. His mouth parted slightly as his eyes moved from one structure to another.

“What the hell!!”

His voice came out low, almost afraid to be loud.

“There is a whole town hidden inside the trees?”

Basil did not answer immediately. His gaze was sharp, analytical, absorbing every detail.

“This is breathtaking”

He exhaled slowly. “They definitely have involvement from the mainland”

A tribal man walking ahead turned just enough to show the edge of a grin.

Zella raised her hand slightly.

“Show them their rooms and serve them food”

The man bowed his head. “Yes chief”

He turned back toward Basil and Artem.

“You two follow me”

They walked through stone streets that should not exist, lanterns reflecting on carved walls, the air carrying the scent of herbs and burning wood. People watched from doorways, calm, curious, unafraid.

A large building stood near the center. Inside, two adjoining rooms awaited them. Clean. Simple. Stone beds layered with woven fabric. A table already set.

Food arrived shortly after.

Flat bread, warm and soft. A thick curry with spices strong enough to make Artem’s eyes sting. Steamed roots and greens arranged carefully.

Artem stared at the table, his hands still clenched.

“What is going on here?”

Basil lowered himself onto the seat and picked up a piece of bread, examining it as if it were evidence.

“Be quiet”

He leaned slightly closer, voice low.

“Look at the food. Wheat. Spices. These things do not grow here easily. Someone supplies them”

Artem swallowed.

“So they are not isolated at all”

Before Basil could respond, a shadow crossed the doorway.

The same tribal man stepped inside.

“It is rude in our tribe to speak while eating”

His tone was polite, calm.

“And it is more rude to speak about us behind our backs”

Basil inclined his head.

“We harbor no ill intentions”

“Good to hear” The man’s gaze shifted toward Artem.

“Artem”

Artem stiffened. “What?”

The man tilted his head slightly.

“You remind me of an old prisoner”

Artem’s eyes darkened.

“He escaped from here. Or so he thought”

The man’s voice remained even.

“The forest never lets anyone leave without payment”

He paused.

“He left his limb here”

For a moment, something raw flashed across Artem’s face.

Rage.

Pain.

Memory.

But he buried it beneath a tight jaw and forced stillness.

The man smiled faintly.

“Sleep well”

He turned and left, footsteps fading into the stone corridor.

The room fell silent.

Artem’s hands trembled as he slowly tightened them into fists.

“They are mocking my father”

Basil wiped his hands with a cloth, deliberate, controlled.

“Calm down”

Artem stood abruptly.

“They made a mistake bringing me here”

He reached for his backpack, unzipping it with sharp movements.

Basil looked up, unease creeping into his expression.

“What is that?”

Artem pulled out a compact metal container and placed it on the table.

His lips curved into a thin smile as he opened it.

Inside, neatly arranged, were explosives.

Detonators.

Wires.

Basil’s breath caught.

“What are you planning??”

To be continued…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep