Dark Currents Stirring

Night had fallen. The campfire burned crimson, and the hunters' shadows swayed across the ground. The air still reeked of blood and scorching heat, as if the battle's aura had been carried back here and refused to dissipate.

Palm collapsed onto the ground, clutching her notebook tightly in both hands. Her face was pale, and her breathing came fast. At the final moment, her pen had nearly torn through the paper, but she had still managed to record the critical intelligence. Knov walked over, placed a hand on her shoulder, and said in a low voice, "Good. You completed the most important part."

Palm looked up with moist eyes and nodded. Her voice was hoarse. "Three waves, more than a hundred in total. The second wave launched a pincer attack, and the third was practically arranged in military formation. They... aren't ordinary monsters."

Morel's face was grim as he struck his pipe hard against the rim of the bronze bowl, sending ash scattering in the firelight. "Confirmed. They've learned to cooperate and understand how to coordinate their movements."

Ryan wiped his blade, his gaze cold. "It isn't just coordination. They observe, and they learn. Once they see through our rhythm, their reactions become faster. The gaps in our movements are their observation corridors."

The atmosphere inside the tent froze. Everyone understood what this meant. The enemy was no longer a group of alien creatures relying solely on instinct, but an intelligent species with genuine tactics and the beginnings of an army.

"In that case, reconnaissance by individuals or small teams is meaningless now." Knov adjusted his glasses. His voice was calm, but heavy. "Every operation will become a lesson for them. The more we act, the faster they learn."

Palm's fingers trembled, and she could barely hold on to her