Comfort and Agony.

The embrace was soothing. Oasis felt his body relax, the tension melting away as he allowed himself to lean into the warmth of her embrace.

It was a simple gesture, but it was exactly what he needed. The tightness in his chest eased, replaced by a sense of calm and comfort.

After a moment, she pulled away slightly, looking him at him.

"Don't keep it all to yourself," she said softly.

Then, with a gentle smile, she left him, closing the door quietly behind her.

Oasis stood there for a moment, still feeling the warmth of her embrace.

He wanted to thank her, to say something, but the words wouldn't come.

Instead, he just watched as the door clicked shut, feeling at peace.

He took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his body dissipate.

The air in the room felt lighter, the weight on his shoulders slightly lifted.

With a newfound sense of clarity, Oasis sat down in the lotus position on the floor and began to meditate, focusing the flow of energy within him.

The events of the day still lingered in his mind, but for now, he was able to find a moment of tranquility, letting the calm wash over him.

---

Meanwhile, in a remote part of Dawnhail, nestled deep within a secluded valley, there was a small, hidden camp.

The camp was surrounded by tall, wooden walls, blending seamlessly with the surrounding trees and rocky terrain.

The flickering light of wooden torches illuminated the area, casting long, shifting shadows as guards—rough-looking men, more bandit than soldier—patrolled the perimeter.

Their faces were hardened, and their eyes were sharp, scanning the dark for any sign of intruders.

The sound of crunching gravel underfoot mixed with the crackling of flames, creating an eerie ambiance in the still night.

The camp was alive with a quiet tension, the kind of uneasy calm that preceded violence.

In the heart of the camp, one of the largest tents stood ominously, its entrance flanked by two armed guards.

The inside of the tent was dimly lit by a single oil lamp, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

From outside, the silhouettes of two men could be seen—one kneeling, the other standing.

The kneeling man's form was hunched, and he appeared to be speaking to the man who stood before him,

whose shadow was obscured save for the occasional movement as he brought something to his mouth, likely eating while listening to the report.

Inside the tent, the tension was palpable.

The kneeling man was the same bandit that Oasis had spared, his body trembling slightly as he recounted the events that had transpired.

His eyes were downcast, filled with fear as he spoke to the man towering over him.

His tall, lean figure was clothed in dark, tattered robes, his sharp eyes glowing with a sinister light as he listened to the bandit's report.

Thud!

Without warning, he kicked the bandit in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The bandit gasped for breath, clutching his ribs as he tried to recover from the sudden assault.

"This is a disgrace to me, 'The Vulture of the Valley'," the man hissed, his voice dripping with venom.

He looked down at the bandit with a sneer of contempt.

"Did you tell anyone else about this?" he asked, his voice now low.

The bandit, struggling to stand, shook his head frantically.

"No, I came straight here after," he managed to choke out, his voice quivering with fear.

"Good," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face.

He approached the bandit slowly, his fingers curling in the man's hair as if to comfort him.

But before the bandit could even realize what was happening, the Vulture's other hand shot forward, plunging into the man's chest with brutal force.

"Useless!" the Vulture spat, his hand pulling back, leaving the bandit to slump lifelessly to the ground.

He stared at the body with cold, unfeeling eyes, wiping his blood-stained hand.

"Oasis of Lunaris, huh?"

"I'd like to see what kind of man dares interfere with 'Vakar, the Vulture of the Valley'," he said, his voice a low growl filled with malice.

Turning away from the corpse, Vakar raised his voice, his words echoing through the tent.

"Someone come and clean this mess! Feed it to my hounds!" he commanded, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

"And bring me a woman to warm my bed," he added, his voice dripping with cruelty.

Outside the tent, one of the guards stiffened at the orders and quickly entered, dragging the body out to fulfill the commands.

The Vulture, still fuming from the failure of his subordinate, was more determined than ever to assert his dominance.

Inside the tent, the atmosphere grew even more oppressive as another guard entered, dragging a struggling woman behind him.

Her clothes were in tatters, and she was clearly terrified.

She fought desperately against the guard's grip, her movements frantic . Her pleas for mercy were barely audible over the raucous sounds outside.

As the guard threw her roughly into the tent, the Vulture, now seated in a large, ornately carved chair, raised his hand, signaling the guards to leave.

The guards exited quickly, their faces betraying no emotion as they closed the tent flap behind them.

With the tent now closed and only the Vulture and the woman remaining, he turned his full attention to her.

He stood up, his face twisted into a predatory grin as he approached her.

Without wasting a moment, he advanced on her, tearing at the robes she was wearing with a brutal efficiency.

His actions were methodical, driven by a cruel sense of entitlement and dominance.

The woman's sobs grew louder as she tried to shield herself from him, but her struggles were futile against his strength.

As he threw her onto the bed, his movements were merciless, his gaze cold and calculating.

The bed creaked under their combined weight as he continued to overpower her.

Outside the tent, the sounds of her screams pierced the night air.

Shadows danced on the canvas of the tent, illuminated by the flickering torchlight.

The dark shapes of the Vulture of the Valley's actions were visible through the thin fabric,

and the muffled cries and desperate struggles of the woman could be heard by the guards stationed nearby.

They kept their heads down, their faces impassive, accustomed to the harsh realities of their existence and the vile acts committed by their leader.