Dawn painted the sky in muted colors as Vel sat on the wooden steps of his house, his small hands wrapped around his knees. The morning air carried a chill that matched the emptiness in his chest. Last night's revelation about the Chief's cowardly escape to Lona played over in his mind - the dark windows of the grand house, the guards' hesitant words, and the Seer's tight expression. The weight of helplessness pressed down on his shoulders, made heavier by the constraints of his child-sized body.
He hadn't slept. How could he? The village faced a deadly threat while their supposed leader fled with his belongings in the dead of night. The sounds of early risers beginning their day drifted through the village, but Vel remained still, his thoughts churning with possibilities he couldn't act on. His father was out there, somewhere near that cursed portal, while the rest of them waited in growing uncertainty. A bitter taste filled his mouth - he knew the game mechanics, understood the dangers they faced, yet his current form left him powerless to help.
(Vel's flashback)
"We will speak with Kazar first," the Seer had said, his tone calm but resolute. "The villagers hold her words in high regard. If we can convince her, the rest may follow."
Vel followed silently, his small feet barely making a sound on the dirt path. The village was cloaked in a heavy stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the night wind. Lanterns flickered faintly, their light casting eerie shadows that danced across the ground.
Kazar's hut stood at the edge of the village, modest yet distinct, with bundles of dried herbs hanging from its thatched roof. The shaman was seated outside, her broad frame illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby firepit. Her weathered face turned toward them as they approached, her deep-set eyes narrowing slightly in recognition.
"Seer," Kazar greeted, her voice low and gravelly. "I didn't expect visitors at this hour. What brings you?"
The Seer stepped forward, his presence commanding despite his frail frame. "The portal grows unstable," he began, his voice steady. "The adventurers may not succeed. We must prepare the village for what is to come."
Kazar raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "You speak as if their failure is certain. Do you doubt the Guild's competence?"
"It is not doubt but prudence," the Seer replied. "The portal has been left to fester. If it collapses or releases what lies within, it will be too late to act."
Kazar rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her gaze drifting to the fire. "We can't abandon our homes just because the wind feels wrong."
Vel, unable to remain silent, stepped forward. "It's not just some dream! It's real!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with urgency. "The Chief ran because he knew something bad was coming!"
Kazar's sharp eyes locked onto Vel, studying him intently. "The Chief's actions are his own," she said slowly. "And while your concern is admirable, boy, fear alone cannot move a village."
The Seer interjected, his tone firmer now. "This is not mere fear, Kazar. The signs are clear. If we do not act, the village will fall."
Kazar's expression darkened slightly, a flicker of conflict passing through her features. She glanced toward the rows of darkened houses, the faint sounds of life within carrying on as if nothing were amiss.
"The villagers are not cowards," she said finally, her voice heavy. "But they are stubborn. To move them now, without proof, would create panic and division. The adventurers are our chosen hope. We must trust in their strength."
"And if they fail?" Vel pressed, his voice small but resolute.
Kazar's gaze softened as she looked at the boy, her tone lowering. "If they fail… then the villagers will listen. But only then." She leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on a somber note. "Remember this, child: people cling to the familiar, even in the face of ruin. Change comes only when the fire burns too close."
The Seer inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Thank you for your time, Kazar," he said quietly.
As they turned to leave, Vel felt frustration bubbling inside him. He cast a glance back at Kazar, who remained by the fire, staring into the flames as though seeking answers in their flickering dance.
"Why won't they listen?" Vel muttered, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
The Seer placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice calm yet resolute. "Fear blinds even the wisest among us. But we have done what we can. The rest… will come in time."
The memory faded as Vel blinked against the morning light. His gaze shifted to the village square, mostly deserted. He clutched his knees tightly, his mind racing with the same question that had haunted him through the night.
"What happens if they don't make it back?"
The village remained unnervingly quiet, the tension hanging thick in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Vel stared at the ground, feeling the weight of his limitations press down on him. As Vel, he lacked the strength and authority to command respect or action. A child's voice wouldn't be heard amidst the rumble of fear sweeping through Oakhaven. He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling inside him like a boiling pot.
What can I do? The question echoed in his mind, but each answer slipped away like smoke. He couldn't charge into battle or rally the villagers. All he could do was sit and watch.
Then it hit him like lightning - a spark of realization. This was his world. He had crafted it, woven it with magic. Giri's heart raced as he drew a sharp breath. If his body failed him, why not use the magic he'd designed?
Determination surged within him as he visualized the symbols from Aeonalus Primordial. The magic circle glowed in his mind's eye, runes spinning and intertwining with familiar patterns he'd seen countless times while debugging spells in code.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
With careful focus, he reached for that mental image, tracing out a spell in his mind. The intricate lines of energy formed before him, shimmering against the backdrop of the world around him.
He opened his eyes and extended a hand toward an empty patch of ground.
Nothing happened.
Giri blinked, disappointment crashing over him like a wave. He tried again, envisioning every detail as vividly as possible—the angle of each rune, the flow of energy. His heart raced with hope.
Again, nothing.
Frustration welled up inside him like an angry storm cloud ready to burst.
Think, Giri urged himself. You created this system.
Giri slumped back against the steps, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. Of course—he'd built the framework, designed how magic should work, but never filled in the actual words of power. Back in development, players just clicked buttons to cast spells. The system handled everything else automatically.
Here though, in this living, breathing world, those gaps mattered. The principles remained sound—the flow of mana, the spirit calculations, the elemental alignments—but without knowing the proper incantations, it was like trying to compile code with missing function calls. He could see the magic circle in his mind, could feel the potential humming beneath his skin, but couldn't bridge that final gap to make it real.
He exhaled sharply. Even if he could piece together some semblance of magic, there was no guarantee this child's body would be harness it effectively.
Giri sat on the wooden steps, staring at the ground, his mind racing through a tangled mess of thoughts.
What to do? He felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down, squeezing the air from his lungs. Each option spun in chaotic circles, colliding and bouncing off one another without resolution.
He had faced countless challenges in coding before. Break it down, he whispered to himself, recalling the late nights spent debugging lines of code. One big problem often became a collection of smaller ones when examined closely enough. But this was different. Magic wasn't just code—it was a living force that twisted and turned with each attempt to control it.
With a heavy sigh, Giri threw his weight back against the cool wood of the steps and slumped down to sit on the floor. His body felt heavier than it should have, fatigue gnawing at him from within. I need to learn to read. The realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.
That was the only starting point. Words formed the basis of spells; without them, he'd remain trapped in confusion—a prisoner within this world of potential magic he couldn't access.
Giri glanced up at the sun, its rays spilling over the village like golden syrup. A flicker of determination ignited within him. He had to act, and the first step was clear.
"Lan-neechan!" He called out, his voice echoing against the wooden beams of their home.
Landre emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She smiled warmly at him, but Giri noticed a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
"What is it, Vel?"
"I want to learn to write." The words tumbled out with unexpected urgency.
Landre's expression shifted from surprise to delight. "Really? Right now?"
Giri nodded, feeling a swell of hope. "Can you teach me?"
"Of course! Just give me a moment." She disappeared back into the house and returned holding a worn book bound in faded leather. Its pages were yellowed with age, filled with elegant script and sketches that captivated Giri's imagination.
Landre settled beside him, carefully opening the worn leather book. The pages crackled softly as she turned them, revealing neat rows of handwritten text.
"Here," she pointed to the first page. "Let's start with these."
Her finger traced over a line of symbols. Each one held a different shape - some curved like waves, others sharp and angular. Vel leaned closer, drinking in every detail. These weren't just letters anymore - they were keys to unlocking the magic system he'd created.
"This one makes the 'ah' sound," Landre demonstrated, sketching the character in the dirt with a stick. "Try copying it."
Giri gripped his own stick, attempting to mimic her fluid motions. His first try came out wobbly, more like a drunken snake than a proper letter. He frowned and tried again.
"That's better!" Landre's eyes lit up. "See how the line curves here?" She guided his hand, helping him form the correct shape.
They worked through several more characters, Landre's patience never wavering as she corrected his attempts. Each symbol slowly became clearer in Giri's mind, though his child-sized hands struggled to form them perfectly.
"Look - you can combine them like this." She demonstrated, writing a simple word. "It means 'light'."
Giri's heart skipped a beat. He recognized that word from his game design documents - it was one of the basic elemental components. His fingers trembled slightly as he copied it, each stroke potentially bringing him closer to accessing the magic system.
"Very good!" Landre clapped her hands together. "You're learning quickly!"
Landre leaned back against the rough wall of their small room, a deep breath escaping her lips. Her fingers brushed against the worn leather cover of her book, and she caught Vel's eye. They had spent hours working through letters and words, their energy waning.
"Let's take a break," she suggested, stretching her arms overhead.
Vel nodded, his mind racing with new letters and sounds. "I've been meaning to ask you something." He hesitated, glancing at the flickering candlelight. "Do you know anything about magic?"
Landre's eyes lit up, a mix of excitement and seriousness crossing her features. "Magic? Well... I know a bit." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper as if sharing a secret. "To use magic, you have to be attuned to it. It's like… like a door that needs the right key."
"A door?" Vel tilted his head.
"Yeah! Some people can't use magic until they reach a certain age. Others need to go through rituals to unlock it." She paused for effect, then added, "But some are just born with it—like Sorcerers."
"Sorcerers?" Vel echoed, pretends to be intrigued.
"They're special," Landre continued, her hands animated as she spoke. "They can wield magic effortlessly. I wish I could be like them." A wistful look crossed her face before she shook it off.
"Why do you want to be able to use magic?" Vel asked, genuinely curious.
Landre's expression softened as she shared her dream. "I want to become a Saint," she said earnestly. "With magic, I could help our village and family more than I ever could otherwise."
Vel noticed the fervor in her eyes and how she clutched the book closer as if it held all her aspirations within its pages.
"And… maybe we could live in a better place," she added quietly.
He absorbed her words, feeling the weight of them settle around him like a cloak. The idea of using magic not just for power but for protection stirred something within him—a drive to learn more.
"Do you think…" Vel hesitated before continuing, "that you'll really become a Saint one day?"
Her smile brightened the dim room. "I have to believe it."
Vel leaned against the wall, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of magic and Landre's aspirations. Suddenly, the noise from the village square jolted him from his reverie. Shouts and frantic murmurs filled the air, growing louder and more urgent.
Vel dashed toward the door, pushing it open with a creak that echoed through the stillness of their home.
Villagers gathered in clusters, eyes wide and faces pale as they watched something unfold in the square. Vel pushed through the crowd, his pulse quickening with each step. The scene that greeted him sent a chill down his spine.
The adventurers returned—shattered and battered. Clara lay unconscious, her once-proud armor now a mangled mess, one arm gruesomely absent. Bestiel and Honka staggered alongside her, their expressions grim as they struggled to support her weight.
"What happened?" Vel breathed, horror gripping him.
Bestiel's voice rose above the murmurs, laced with fury. "If you had just followed Clara's orders—"
Honka shot back, his fists clenched at his sides. "You think I wanted this? You don't know what we faced!"
"Clara is a Platinum Rank! Even she couldn't withstand that thing," Bestiel pressed on, frustration boiling over. "What do you think you were doing? She had to step in to save your sorry ass!"
In an instant, Honka grabbed Bestiel by the neck, lifting him slightly off the ground with a single muscular arm. "Watch your mouth," he growled, teeth gritted in anger.
The tension crackled between them like static electricity, both adventurers locked in a fierce standoff as villagers looked on in shock.
"Enough!" Mora's voice cut through the chaos like a knife. She stepped between them, hands raised to quell their argument. "Right now, we need to take care of Clara."
Vel's heart sank further as he watched Von yelled. "Kazar! Our Shaman can help! Quickly!"
They hurriedly carried Clara away from the crowd while murmurs of concern rippled through the villagers. Landre stood frozen beside Vel, her face pale as she grasped his arm tightly.
"What did they face?" she whispered in disbelief.
Vel stared after them, dread settling heavily in his stomach. This was what he had feared since yesterday—the warnings from the Seer had not been mere superstition but a grim reality unfolding before him. Giri's predictions about danger materialized right there in front of him.
Vel stepped into Kazar's hut, the heavy scent of herbs and damp earth engulfing him. Dim light filtered through the small window, casting shadows that danced across the walls. Clara lay on a makeshift bed, her body wrapped in bandages. A palpable tension filled the room, with Von, Honka, Bestiel, and Mora huddled around her.
"Father, what happened?" Vel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Von's brow furrowed as he glanced down at Clara, uncertainty clouding his expression. "The adventurers... they took some time in the portal. Then they all came rushing out." He hesitated, looking to each of the others for support. "Two of them were carrying Clara out—she was injured."
"Wulfangs," Honka interjected, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Not the normal kind. This one was big."
Bestiel's frustration boiled over. "If you weren't so full of yourself and had listened to Clara—"
"We need to get out of here! There's something way worse heading our way!" - Vel insisted
Mora shook her head, disbelief etched across her face. The room fell silent as Vel's words hung in the air. They looked at him like he was just a kid spouting nonsense.
"You don't understand!" Vel insisted, voice rising with urgency. "Even the Chief has run away!"
Von's eyes widened in shock. "The Chief is gone? Where?"
He paused briefly before rushing out of the hut, urgency fueling his steps as he sought more information about their leader.
The remaining adventurers exchanged anxious glances. Bestiel clenched his fists in frustration. "We need to let The Guild know what's happening," he said firmly.
"I'll go," Bestiel declared.
"No," Mora countered sharply. "You're a Cleric; you need to stay here."
Vel watched as Honka remained silent, tension thickening around them as decisions loomed large in the air like storm clouds ready to break.
Vel felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. Clara lay still, and the air crackled with tension as the adventurers argued.
"Can we perform another ritual?" Vel turned to Kazar, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling around them.
Kazar shook her head, worry etching deep lines across her forehead. "The ritual takes time and preparation. We're low on ingredients." She paused, glancing toward Clara's unconscious form. "With more monsters roaming, gathering them will be difficult. It could take more than a day to be ready."
One day… Vel's heart sank. They might not have that long.
The adventurers shifted uneasily, murmurs of doubt mixing with bravado.
"We're not running," Honka said firmly. "We should be ready if there's a fight."
Just then, Von returned, his expression grave. "The Chief is gone," he announced. "We need to alert everyone and be ready for anything. Fortify the village with whatever we have. We also need to prepare for the worst."
Vel felt urgency flooding through him. If he couldn't help fight directly, he could contribute in other ways—gathering supplies, carrying weapons, finding herbs or ingredients that might assist them in battle.
"I can help!" Vel blurted out, his enthusiasm ringing hollow in the heavy air.
The adventurers turned their eyes toward him, expressions a mix of surprise and skepticism.
"Stay back, kid," Bestiel cautioned gently but firmly.
Von glanced at his son, brow furrowing in suspicion. Why was Vel acting like this? He used to be so carefree and playful; now he seemed far too concerned for someone his age. The shift startled him momentarily before urgency pushed it aside.
"Let me help!" Vel insisted again, desperate to make them understand his determination. "I can gather things! I know about plants and what might help!"
Mora exchanged looks with Bestiel and Honka; their hesitance lingered in the air like an unspoken agreement of disbelief towards a child's plea.
Von crossed his arms tightly, studying Vel's earnest expression as if trying to decipher this sudden maturity beneath the innocent facade of a boy still adjusting to his new reality.
"Just stay close," Von finally relented, a mixture of concern and protection lacing his tone.
Vel felt relief wash over him but quickly suppressed it; this was just the beginning of proving himself useful—he wouldn't let fear control him any longer.
Vel felt a surge of adrenaline as everyone poured out of Kazar's hut. Von barked orders, urgency threading through his voice.
"Gather the villagers! We need to alert everyone about the danger!"
Guards nodded, rushing toward the village square while Vel watched, heart pounding. Mora turned to leave as well.
"I'm going to Elnor," she announced, determination in her eyes. "They need to know what's happening here."
As she hurried away, Vel knew he couldn't stay idle any longer. He dashed back toward his home, each step filled with purpose.
"Lan-neechan! Mom!" he cried, bursting into the room.
Mari looked up from her weaving, concern flooding her features.
"What's wrong?" she asked, setting aside her work.
"There's trouble—adventurers got hurt! We have to prepare!" Vel gasped out.
Landre rushed into the room, worry creasing her brow. "What do you mean?"
"Clara is injured; there's a Wulfang threat! We need supplies." Vel's urgency made it clear that time was short.
"Alright," Landre replied quickly. "We can gather herbs and things outside the village. Let's go!"
Before they left, Vel snatched up his dagger—a gift from Von—as an added precaution. It felt heavy in his hand but comforting nonetheless.
As they stepped outside, the air buzzed with tension and chaos; villagers rushed about building barricades and fortifying walls. The sound of wood scraping against wood echoed around them.
"Look at them," Landre murmured softly, watching a group of men hammering together makeshift barriers with panic-fueled energy. "They're scared."
"We have to find ingredients quickly," Vel insisted, glancing toward the distant woods where herbs might grow. "We can help."
Landre nodded but placed a protective hand on his shoulder. "Whatever happens, stay close to me."
He could feel her worry—she always looked out for him—but today he wanted to be strong too. With a guard now accompanying them for safety, they set off toward the nearby grove just beyond Oakhaven's edge.
The path felt familiar yet fraught with tension; trees loomed overhead as if shielding them from the world outside their village walls. Vel stole glances at Landre as they walked, noting how tightly she gripped her satchel filled with supplies.
"What do we need?" she asked as they reached the grove's edge.
"Anything that might help—healing herbs or roots," he replied confidently despite uncertainty gnawing at him.
"Right," Landre agreed and began searching through foliage while keeping an eye on him at all times.
With each rustle of leaves around them, Vel sensed that danger lurked just beyond their small haven—a feeling he couldn't shake off even as he focused on finding what they needed most.
The last light of evening faded into a dim crimson glow, giving way to the creeping chill of night. The warmth of the sun vanished, replaced by the crisp bite of the evening air. Faint lantern light flickered along the village paths, casting long shadows as an unsettling quiet settled over Oakhaven.
Vel's heart raced as the village bell tolled, its echo slicing through the air like a knife. Panic swept over Oakhaven, voices rising in chaos.
"Wulfangs!" shouted a guard from the watchtower, his voice strained and urgent.
Vel dropped the handful of herbs he had been gathering with Kazar. His breath caught as dread washed over him. Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the village square, every instinct screaming for him to move faster.
As he ran, he saw mothers huddling their children close, Mari among them, guiding little ones into safer corners. Some villagers dashed into their homes while others sought out guards for protection.
"Where's Dad? Where's Lan-neechan?". Vel's stomach churned at the thought of their absence.
The wall loomed high before him, obscuring his view of the encroaching threat. He reached the square just in time to witness chaos erupt.
With a powerful leap, a Wulfang vaulted over the wall, its spiky mane bristling with menace. Other creatures followed suit, scrambling over each other as arrows rained down from above. A few fell under the onslaught, but others breached the defenses with terrifying speed.
One Wulfang lunged at a young guard stationed nearby. The guard barely had time to react before it sank its teeth into his shoulder and dragged him down to the ground. Vel's breath hitched in his throat as he watched helplessly.
Another guard rushed forward with a spear raised high. He struck true; it pierced the Wulfang's shoulder. The creature yelped in pain but managed to flip back onto its feet, blood seeping from its wound. An arrow whizzed past Vel's ear and struck the beast squarely in its throat, pinning it down with a sickening thud.
The young guard lay still on the ground now—no more screams. The sight sent chills racing up Vel's spine; reality sank in like lead.
Vel scanned the frantic square, searching for familiar faces amidst the chaos. Panic surged within him, but he pushed it down. He had to think clearly.
"Mom, we need to find Lan-neechan and Dad!" Vel shouted, his voice breaking through the noise of screams and growls.
Mari's gaze darted toward the sound, spotting Vel among the chaos. She sprinted over, her face a mask of fear.
"Vel, you need to hide!" she urged, grabbing his arm with a firm grip.
But Vel shook his head vigorously. "No! We have to find Dad and Lan-neechan first. We don't have time."
His heart pounded like a war drum as they locked eyes. Mari hesitated, weighing the danger against her instinct to protect her child. The shrieks of wounded guards and the growls of Wulfangs echoed in their ears.
With a reluctant nod, Mari relented. "Fine! But we stay close together."
The air crackled with tension as they moved deeper into the square, dodging panicked villagers and debris. Vel felt the heat of fear wrap around him but pressed forward; finding his family took precedence over everything else.
In the distance, he could hear guards shouting orders.
"Dammit! Hold the line!"
"Stay together!"
The urgency in their voices only fueled Vel's determination.
Through the chaos, Vel spotted a flash of movement that caught his attention. Honka stood in the center, surrounded by a pack of snarling Wulfangs. But unlike the struggling guards, the monk moved with fluid grace.
"Come on, you mangy mutts!" Honka's booming voice carried across the square.
A Wulfang lunged at him from the front. Honka pivoted, his fist connecting with its jaw in a devastating blow. The creature flew backward, crashing through a wooden crate with a yelp.
Without missing a beat, Honka twisted his body as another Wulfang leaped at his back. He ducked under its attack, the beast sailing over him. In one smooth motion, Honka brought his leg up and slammed his heel down onto the creature's spine. The impact drove the Wulfang into the dirt, leaving a small crater where it lay motionless.
Two more Wulfangs circled him, but Honka's movements remained precise and deadly. His fists struck with frightening speed – no flashy techniques or showy moves, just brutal efficiency. Each hit found its mark with bone-crushing force, though his strikes appeared deceptively simple from the outside.
"That all you got?" Honka taunted, his bare fists continuing their deadly dance.
Vel watched in awe as the monk single-handedly held back the tide of monsters. Where others struggled against even one Wulfang, Honka moved between multiple attackers as if they were merely practice dummies. His presence alone seemed to stem the flow of creatures into that section of the square.
Mari yanked Vel's arm, pulling him away from the spectacle of Honka's fight. They weaved through the panicked crowd, ducking past fallen debris and fleeing villagers.
"This way!" Mari's voice cracked as she led them toward the sound of clashing metal and growls.
They rounded a corner to find a group of four guards forming a defensive line near the village's main gate. Their faces were pale, hands trembling as they gripped their weapons. Behind them stood Bestiel, his grimoire hovering open before him.
"By Jules's grace, bless these souls—strengthen their resolve!" Bestiel's voice rang clear above the chaos.
The last rays of sunlight caught the guards in a warm glow. Vel watched as their postures straightened, renewed strength flowing through their bodies. A guard who had been barely holding his spear now thrust it forward with purpose, driving back an approaching Wulfang.
The line held firm against the endless wave of monsters, but for each beast they struck down, two more seemed to take its place. Around them, other fighters fell one by one, their cries of pain mixing with the snarls of the beasts.
Honka dashed toward Bestiel, his knuckles stained with blood from his previous fights.
"Their numbers are too great!" Bestiel's voice wavered as he maintained his spell.
"This is getting bad," Honka replied, his usual bravado replaced by grim determination.
A bone-chilling howl pierced through the chaos, unlike anything Vel had heard before. The sound made his blood run cold. Through the settling dust and panic, a massive figure emerged—an Alpha Wulfang, its frame towering above its pack. Dark mist swirled around its form like writhing shadows, and its eyes blazed an unnatural crimson.
"By the gods..." Bestiel's voice trembled. "That's the one from the portal."
"Look at how it moves," Honka observed, his muscles tensing. "It's not rushing in. It's watching, learning our patterns."
The Alpha stood still, observing the carnage with calculated patience. Its pack continued their assault while it remained in place, directing the flow of battle like a general commanding troops.
"Everyone, fall back!" Honka's voice boomed across the square. "This fight's already lost unless we take down that monster. Bestiel, you're with me—we're the only ones who stand a chance."
"But the villagers—" Bestiel protested.
"Will all die if we don't stop it here!" Honka cut him off. His eyes landed on Vel. "Kid, Clara's still at Kazar's hut. Someone needs to watch over her."
Vel nodded, understanding the gravity of the task.
"Good lad." Bestiel placed a hand on Vel's shoulder. "Now go!"
Honka took a deep breath, his stance shifting into something more fluid. His arms began to move in circular motions, like water flowing through a stream.
"Flowing River Stance!" he called out, blue light emanating from his limbs. "Bestiel, stay close. This won't be pretty."
The monk advanced toward the Alpha, each step measured and purposeful. The blue glow around his arms intensified as he carved a path through the lesser Wulfangs, Bestiel following closely behind.
Vel and Mari sprinted toward Kazar's hut, their feet pounding against the dirt path. Through the chaos, he spotted Kazar standing guard at the entrance, her weathered hands gripping her staff with surprising strength. Her eyes blazed with determination, ready to defend against any threat.
Relief flooded through Vel as he caught sight of Landre's familiar form nearby. She stood at the corner of the hut, her face tight with worry.
"Lan-neechan, where's Dad?" Vel called out, his breath coming in quick gasps.
Landre pointed to their right. Von crouched beside a wounded guard, supporting the man's weight as they limped toward a nearby house. Blood stained the guard's uniform, but he was alive.
"Dad!" Vel rushed over, his voice carrying an urgency that made Von's head snap up. "We need to move Clara somewhere safe. We're trapped here like animals waiting for slaughter."
Von's eyes widened slightly at his son's words, a flash of surprise crossing his face at the mature assessment. But he didn't waste time questioning it.
"You're right." Von carefully lowered the injured guard against the house wall. "Come with me."
They hurried into Kazar's hut where Clara lay unconscious on a makeshift bed. Von bent down, carefully positioning Clara across his broad shoulders. Her head lolled limply against his back.
Vel's gaze fell on Clara's greatsword propped against the wall. He grabbed it, his arms straining under its weight. The blade dragged against the ground as he struggled to lift it, but he refused to leave it behind.
As Von and Vel stepped outside the hut, a chill gripped their hearts. A stray Wulfang loomed just ahead, muscles coiled, eyes locked on Mari.
"Mari!"
"Mom!"
"Behind you!" The warning sliced through the chaos like a beacon of hope.
The Wulfang lunged into the air, teeth bared, aiming straight for Mari's neck. Time slowed as Vel watched in horror.
Mari shifted just in time. Claws grazed her back, ripping through fabric and skin. A scream tore from her lips, raw and agonized.
Kazar sprang into action, her hands moving with practiced precision. She pulled something from her pouch—a small vial—murmuring a short incantation under her breath.
With a swift motion, she hurled it at the descending Wulfang.
The moment it struck the ground, flames erupted in a burst of fire and heat. The Wulfang yelped, its fur singeing as it skidded away from the inferno.
Vel barely registered the victory; all he could see was Mari crumpling to the ground.
"Mom!" he cried again as they rushed toward her.
Kneeling beside Mari, he felt dread wash over him anew. Her face contorted in pain but determination glimmered in her eyes as she gritted her teeth against the agony.
Landre was already there, helping Mari up with gentle hands that belied her own worry.
"I've got you, Mom," his sister soothed as she supported their mother's weight.
Mari nodded but grimaced with every movement.
They all began to walk away from the scene, hearts pounding and instincts screaming to flee from the horde that continued to surge around them.
Vel kept a protective eye on Mari while glancing back at Kazar. She maintained vigilance at their rear, ready for any threat that might emerge from the shadows.
As they moved through the village square's debris-laden path, Vel could hear the distant sounds of battle—the clash of metal against bone and cries of despair echoing through Oakhaven. He pressed closer to Mari's side, wishing desperately for more strength than his small frame could muster.
"We need to get you somewhere safe," Von urged softly but firmly while scanning their surroundings warily.
Mari nodded again but wavered slightly under Landre's support.
Vel's group stumbled through the village outskirts, the screams and clash of metal growing distant but never quite fading. His father led the way, still carrying Clara's unconscious form, while Landre supported their injured mother. Bodies of fallen villagers and Wulfangs littered their path – sights that would haunt Vel's dreams for years to come.
A few scattered Wulfangs lunged at them from the shadows, but Kazar's quick spellwork and the remaining guards made short work of them. Other survivors joined their group – families clutching children, elderly supported by younger arms, all fleeing into the forest's embrace.
The Seer appeared through the chaos, leaning heavily on another villager for support. His weathered face was slick with sweat as he gasped for breath, age taking its toll during their escape.
Through gaps in the trees, Vel caught glimpses of the battle raging back at Oakhaven. Honka weaved between the Alpha's strikes, his movements more desperate than before. The massive beast's claws tore through air where the monk had been moments before. Bestiel remained close behind, his grimoire glowing as healing magic flowed toward any injuries Honka sustained.
Then, a bone-chilling roar split the air – but not from the Alpha they fought. Vel's blood turned to ice as another massive form emerged from the forest depths. A second Alpha, its crimson eyes blazing with the same dark intelligence as its twin.
Time seemed to crawl as the reality sank in. Vel watched horror spread across every face around him. Even the guards' weapons trembled in their grip. This was it – Oakhaven's death knell.
Bestiel broke first, abandoning his position to sprint toward their group. Honka followed reluctantly, his pride warring with survival as he covered their retreat. The twin Alphas didn't give chase, instead directing their pack with eerie coordination, sending waves of smaller Wulfangs after the fleeing survivors.
"Move!" Honka bellowed as he caught up. "They're herding us!"
The survivors moved faster through the dense forest, their footsteps a chaotic symphony of fear and desperation. Vel's arms ached from dragging Clara's greatsword, but he refused to let it go. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit grew closer.
Honka and Bestiel caught up to their group, both showing signs of exhaustion. Sweat dripped down Honka's bald head, and his knuckles bore fresh cuts. Bestiel's robes were torn and stained with dirt.
"Keep moving!" Honka ordered the villagers before slowing his pace.
Bestiel joined him, his grimoire floating open before him. They positioned themselves between the fleeing villagers and the approaching threats, creating a last line of defense.
A slight movement caught Vel's attention. Clara stirred on Von's shoulders, her remaining arm twitching.
"Wait," Von said, carefully lowering her to the ground.
Clara's eyes fluttered open, confusion evident on her face as she took in their surroundings. Her gaze darted between the fleeing villagers and the sounds of combat behind them.
"The Alphas..." she mumbled, trying to piece together what happened.
Vel watched as various emotions crossed her face – pain, anger, and something that looked like shame. Her jaw clenched tight, and her good hand curled into a fist.
With visible effort, Clara pushed herself up to stand. Though she swayed slightly, her eyes burned with determination. She spotted her greatsword in Vel's grip and reached for it.
"I'll take that," she said, her voice stronger now despite the obvious pain she was hiding.
Vel handed over the greatsword, watching Clara test its weight with her remaining arm. Despite her injuries, she held it with practiced ease.
"Clara, you can't possibly—" Bestiel started.
"I can and I will." Clara's voice carried steel beneath its weariness. "The villagers need you both more than they need me right now."
"Like hell!" Honka spat. "We stand together!"
Clara shook her head. "You're the strongest fighter left, Honka. These people won't survive without your protection." Her gaze swept over the gathered survivors. "The Alphas are coordinating their attacks. They're not mindless beasts – they're hunting. Someone needs to break their focus."
"Then let me—"
"That's an order, Honka." Clara's tone brooked no argument. "Get these people to safety. That's your mission now."
She turned away from them, each step measured and deliberate as she walked toward the sounds of approaching Wulfangs. Planting her greatsword point-down in the earth, Clara closed her eyes.
"Guardian's Wrath!"
The air itself seemed to pulse as waves of amber light burst from Clara's form. The glow enveloped her like a second skin, and every Wulfang in sight froze, their heads snapping toward her with hatred in their eyes.
Clara's gaze found Vel's for just a moment. In that look, he saw not fear or resignation, but pure determination. She offered him the barest hint of a smile before yanking her sword from the ground.
With explosive speed, she charged toward the twin Alphas. Her blade sang through the air, cutting down any Wulfang that dared stand in her path. The pack followed her movement, drawn by whatever power she had unleashed.
Clara disappeared into the misty darkness, taking the horde with her. The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed through the trees, growing fainter with each passing second.
Vel's legs felt like lead as he watched Clara's form vanish into the darkness. The sounds of her battle grew distant, each clash of steel a reminder of her sacrifice.
"Come on, we need to move," Bestiel's voice cracked through Vel's daze. The cleric hurried between groups, gesturing urgently for everyone to continue forward.
Honka remained rooted in place, his broad shoulders tense. His fists clenched and unclenched, a storm of emotions playing across his face. For a moment, Vel thought the monk might charge after Clara.
But then Honka's expression hardened. He shook his head sharply, as if dispelling unwanted thoughts.
"Everyone, stay close!" Honka barked, moving to the front of the group. His usual boisterous tone was gone, replaced by grim focus. "I'll clear the path. Bestiel, watch our backs."
The survivors fell into formation behind Honka as he led them deeper into the forest. Von supported Mari while Landre helped guide the elderly. Kazar and the remaining guards positioned themselves along the group's flanks, watching for threats.
Vel stuck close to his family, his heart heavy with each step that took them further from Oakhaven. From Clara. The weight of her sacrifice pressed down on him, adding to the burden of those they'd already lost.
The monk's movements were precise and controlled as he guided them through the darkness, nothing like his usual showy style. Every now and then, his head would twitch slightly toward the sounds of distant combat, but he never slowed his pace.
[*]
We scrambled through the forest, the moon our only guide. Thorns tore at our clothes, and branches whipped our faces, but we couldn't slow down. Not while the howls of the Alpha Wulfangs still echoed in our ears.
The Seer, his old body frail, started to fall behind. Kazar, her face etched with exhaustion, was struggling to keep up. Even Mari, always so strong, was starting to falter.
"We have to stop", I said, my voice barely a whisper. "We can't leave them behind."
Honka and Bestiel exchanged a worried look. "But the Wulfangs…" Bestiel started to say, his voice filled with fear.
"We don't have a choice", I insisted. "We have to rest."
We found a small clearing, hidden amongst the thick trees. It wasn't much, but it offered some respite from the relentless pursuit. We collapsed onto the soft earth, our bodies heavy with exhaustion.
The Seer sank to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "This is our limit", he said, his voice weak.
Kazar nodded, her eyes filled with worry. "We can't go on like this."
Von looked around at the group, his gaze lingering on each of us. "We'll rest here", he said, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. "We'll gather our strength and then we'll continue."
We huddled together, catching our breath. The forest was eerily quiet compared to the chaos we'd left behind in the village. The moon painted the trees in shades of grey and black, and in the darkness, I could see the fear on everyone's faces.
"Maybe we've run far enough," one of the villagers whispered, her voice trembling. "Maybe they won't follow us anymore."
I looked around, quickly counting heads. Eighteen. There were only eighteen of us left. My heart ached for those we'd lost – friends, neighbors, the guards who had stayed behind to give us a chance to escape.
"Please," the Seer prayed, his voice rough but hopeful. "Please let the others be safe."
We all knew there were other groups who had fled in different directions. We could only hope they had found safety too.
For now, we were alive. But we were alone, lost in the vast wilderness, with no food, no shelter, and no clear path forward.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart as the survivors gathered around the small clearing. Shadows flickered across their faces, each one reflecting the exhaustion and fear we all felt.
"We need someone to take guard and scout the area," Von said, his voice steady despite the fatigue etched into his features.
Honka nodded, cracking his knuckles. "I'll do it. I can't sit here while those beasts are out there."
"Fine," Von replied, clasping Honka's shoulder briefly before gesturing for him to move out. "Just keep your eyes open."
The rest of us settled in for what little rest we could manage. I turned my gaze to Mari, who sat with her back hunched over, a grimace on her face as she winced at her wound.
"We need to treat that," I said quietly.
Bestiel straightened himself with a sigh, determination replacing his fatigue. He raised his grimoire and began reciting an incantation, his voice soft but firm.
Landre knelt beside our mother, clutching her worn leather book tightly against her chest. She closed her eyes and started praying softly under her breath, words spilling forth like whispers of hope.
As Bestiel's magic took hold, I watched in awe as Mari's wound slowly began to close, a faint glow illuminating the area around them.
"That's the last of my mana," Bestiel muttered as he slumped down beside us, weariness overtaking him. "I really need to rest now."
Landre continued her prayer despite knowing there was no magic woven into her book. The ritual seemed instinctual for her—an unyielding faith shining through.
"Shizka's teaching?" Bestiel asked, glancing at Landre with curiosity.
She opened her eyes and nodded slowly. "I haven't attuned to magic yet… so this is all I can do." Her voice trembled slightly but held conviction. "I pray to God."
"Shizka? Who's that?" I asked, puzzled.
"Shizka! The Goddess of Light," Bestiel confirmed with a nod.
The name Shizka resonated in my mind, awakening something profound within me, like a vague memory surfacing from a forgotten dream. My heart raced as realization struck me—it was a playful joke Shizuka and I had exchanged during one of our late-night chats. We had mused about whether the NPCs would ever uncover the truth about their creators and see us as gods.
Wait… is this world somehow twisting Shizuka's name into Shizka?
Bestiel kept talking, pulling me back from my reverie. "I adhere to the doctrines of Jules, the Goddess of Nature... You know I could articulate the teachings of the Church of Jules and perhaps…"
Landre shook her head, her eyes shimmering in the moonlight with resolve.
"No, I can't," she replied resolutely, her tone unwavering. "My faith is committed to Shizka. To alter my beliefs now would be a betrayal—not only to Shizka but to Jules as well."
I glanced at her, confusion mixing with admiration. Her conviction was palpable, a force that filled the small clearing and warmed the chilly night air.
I leaned closer to Bestiel, the warmth of the fire flickering shadows across his face.
"What about the name of the God of Sound?" I asked, my curiosity bubbling up.
Bestiel paused, tilting his head slightly as if pondering my question.
"You mean the God of Resonance? That's Morya," he replied, his tone casual but filled with a hint of intrigue.
Morya. So I was right. All our names, all our creations—somehow they had twisted into divine entities in this world. It felt surreal and unsettling. But what about me? Did I even exist here? What would my name be?
My heart raced at the thought.
"What about Giri?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. "Is there a god with a name like that?".
Bestiel frowned, puzzled. "No. Why would there be?"
Frustration bubbled within me. I couldn't let it go. My identity felt so tangled in this new existence; it was suffocating.
Landre's prayer softened behind me, her voice a melodic whisper in contrast to my swirling thoughts. I stole a glance at her—her face lit by the glow of our small fire, determined and hopeful as she sought guidance from Shizka. It reminded me how vital belief could be.
Still, as much as I appreciated their faith, it wasn't enough for me. I needed something tangible to hold onto amidst all this chaos—an anchor to ground me in this unfamiliar reality.
An idea pierced my thoughts. Magic. I needed to ask Bestiel about it; he seemed to be the only one here who knew most about it.
I leaned closer, my curiosity bubbling over despite the heaviness in the air around us.
"Bestiel," I began, keeping my voice low. "How exactly does one attune to magic?"
He shifted slightly, resting his grimoire on his knee. A thoughtful expression crossed his face as he considered my question.
"There are some ways," he said, his tone serious. "Once you come of age, you can take a magic attunement test. It's for those who wish to enter the Academy; they'll help you with the process."
I nodded, absorbing his words. The Academy sounded promising, but something inside me stirred with uncertainty.
"And what if someone isn't accepted?" I pressed, wanting to dig deeper.
Bestiel shrugged slightly. "The test can be tricky. Not everyone has the potential for magic. Some may never get it."
"Is there another way?" I asked, desperate for a glimmer of hope.
He scratched his chin thoughtfully, then continued. "Another option is to join the church, to follow a god and receive their blessing."
The idea struck me like a lightning bolt—following a god? It felt strange and foreign yet oddly appealing at the same time.
"So you mean… devotion could grant power?"
Bestiel nodded again, eyes sparkling with a mixture of seriousness and excitement. "Exactly! It's not guaranteed or anything—every god has different criteria for blessings."
I leaned back against the tree, a spark ignited in my mind, unraveling threads of thought. Every god has different criteria for blessing; every person has different criteria for magic. They were distinct yet intertwined, a reflection of perspective. It clicked—the principle behind it all had to be something deeply rooted in the world I created.
Affinity!
The realization hit me like a wave crashing against the shore. In Aeonalus, affinity was a fundamental stat each character possessed, a customizable spider chart crafted during character creation. Players adjusted their affinities to shape their characters' strengths and weaknesses. For every point added to one affinity—like fire—something else had to diminish. It was balance; it was choice.
Faith, then, must work in a similar way here. Worshipping Shizka, follow its teaching, could enhance one's Light affinity, gradually allowing access to light magic once they accumulated enough devotion. It made sense: your beliefs dictated your path and capabilities. This wasn't just about gods or spells—it represented the choices each person made throughout their lives.
I thought about those born with magic; they must have reached an affinity threshold at birth, naturally inclined towards certain elements or spells. But others? They simply might not have enough affinity until maturity brought growth and understanding.
Once someone reached that threshold, they'd need an advancement quest to unlock their potential—a rite of passage confirming their mastery over that element. The intricacies of my design came flooding back like familiar echoes in my mind.
This is still my world after all.
A flicker of determination surged within me as I pondered how I could navigate this system. If I understood these principles, if I could somehow harness them… I might discover a way to claim my own power in this strange existence where everything felt so foreign yet reminiscent of something deeper.
The pieces fell into place—like writing code again, debugging flaws in logic—but here it was more than just mechanics; it became personal.
I leaned closer to Bestiel, my heart racing with anticipation.
"So, what happens after you attune to magic?" I asked, eager to understand the next steps in this bewildering journey.
He grinned, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his weary eyes. "It's like discovering a muscle you didn't think you had. You can feel it awaken inside you, like knowing what it's like to fly even if you've never left the ground. It becomes part of you."
His words painted vivid images in my mind. The thought of flying—of feeling that kind of freedom—sent a thrill through me.
"All you need to do is know the incantation or sometimes just normal prayers."
"Incantation? Where can one learn those?" I pressed, desperate for more information.
Bestiel pointed at his grimoire resting on his knee. "You see this? It contains all Jules' teachings and the incantations I've learned over the years. You have to discover them, learn them, and memorize them."
I shifted my gaze to the grimoire. The pages were filled with jumbled words that looked like gibberish to me—a chaotic mess without any meaning. I felt a wave of frustration wash over me.
"Can you cast fireball? Or any offensive spell?" I asked, curiosity piqued despite my growing doubts.
Bestiel shook his head slowly, his expression turning serious. "No. I can only use spells that follow Jules's teachings—the ones I've attuned to."
My heart sank a little at that realization. So he was locked into that affinity, unable to wield other elements or powers outside of his chosen path.
Looking at Landre, I admired her unwavering faith amid despair. Her book of Shizka's teachings anchored her through these uncertain times.
In the dim light, she prayed silently with closed eyes, clutching her worn leather tome of hand-copied prayers and scripture like a lifeline.
Intrigued, I turned my attention back to Bestiel's grimoire. With careful fingers, I leafed through the worn pages until I found what looked like the simplest incantation.
I read the incantation out loud, mimicking the sounds as best as I could. My heart pounded in my chest as I gestured like Bestiel had done earlier and tried to visualize the magic taking shape.
Then something shifted within me—a sudden surge of energy that flowed from deep within my soul. For a brief moment, I felt a connection, an unseen force tugging at the core of my being. But then… nothing.
I felt no change, no sense of power coursing through my veins. There was no spark of magic, no grand revelation—just silence.
A sigh slipped past my lips as I closed Bestiel's grimoire. What had I expected? That magic would burst forth from my fingertips like in those anime I used to binge-watch? That power would flow through me just because I could read a few words?
Reality crashed down hard. This wasn't some simple game mechanic anymore – I'd designed this system to be grounded in actual physics and natural laws. Each spell required precise calculations, careful manipulation of mana flow, and proper understanding of the underlying principles.
"Magic isn't something you can force," Bestiel said, taking back his grimoire. "It comes with time, dedication, and true understanding."
I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, earning concerned glances from both Bestiel and Landre. The irony hit me like a punch to the gut. Here I was, the creator of this world, unable to use even the simplest magic because I'd designed it to be too realistic, too grounded in actual physics and natural laws.
"Are you okay, Vel?" Landre's voice carried a hint of worry.
I waved off her concern, trying to contain my hysteria. "Just thinking about how complicated everything is."
What a joke. I'd spent countless hours crafting detailed documentation about mana flow, spirit interactions, and elemental resonance. I'd argued with the team about making magic feel authentic rather than just another game mechanic. And now? Those same intricate systems I'd proudly designed were the very barriers keeping me from accessing any power.
No shortcuts. No cheat codes. No developer console to type in commands. Just the raw, unforgiving reality I'd created.
I closed my eyes, letting the weight of reality settle over me. This world—my creation—had evolved far beyond what I'd originally designed. Five hundred years of history had reshaped everything I thought I knew.
The Wulfangs were proof of that. I'd created them as basic monsters, but now they moved with frightening intelligence under an Alpha's command. It was a natural progression I should have anticipated. Like a player returning after countless updates, I needed to relearn the game from scratch.
"The world changes," I whispered to myself, "and I must change with it."
Looking at Landre's peaceful face as she prayed, I felt a surge of determination. I had responsibilities now—not just to my family back in my world, but to these people who had become my new family. Mari, Von, Landre... even Clara, who'd sacrificed herself to save us.
I needed to start from scratch. Learn to read, understand magic, grasp how this world had evolved. No shortcuts, no developer's privileges—just honest effort and dedication.
"I promise," I murmured, watching the flames dance before us, "I won't let another Oakhaven happen. Whatever it takes."
The stars above seemed to twinkle in response, countless points of light in an endless sky. They were the same stars I'd programmed so long ago, yet now they felt more real than ever.
Vel woke to birdsong drifting through the canopy. The forest hummed with morning life. His muscles protested as he sat up, surveying their camp. Landre supported Mari, who offered a weak smile despite her pallor. Von watched the treeline, exhausted but vigilant.
Von turned, his voice low but firm. "Pack up. We need to move."
Landre stirred at his words, brushing twigs from her skirt and stretching stiff limbs. Vel scrambled to his feet, dusting off dirt clinging to his clothes. He approached Von cautiously, looking for some sign of reassurance.
"Are we close?" Vel asked, though he already knew the answer.
Von's jaw tightened before he spoke. "No Wulfangs since last night. That's good." He paused, gaze shifting toward the faint outline of the road visible through the trees. "We'll stick to the road from here on out. More chance we'll find people that way."
Vel hesitated but nodded, biting back questions about whether more people meant safety—or danger.
The group moved quickly after that, gathering what little they had left before heading toward the dirt path. The morning sun filtered weakly through the trees as they reached it, casting uneven shadows across their faces.
Bestiel adjusted his satchel and fell in step beside Vel. His voice broke through the heavy silence. "Long walk ahead today."
Behind them, Kazar helped Mari keep pace while Landre stayed close to Vel's side as though afraid to let him stray too far.
The path stretched endlessly ahead, winding into thick patches of forest that seemed both eerily quiet and impossibly vast. Every now and then a bird would take flight or a squirrel dart across their path—small signs of life that reminded Vel how still Oakhaven had been before they fled.
Von's voice carried back as he took point again, keeping everyone moving at a steady pace. "Eyes open," he called over his shoulder without breaking stride.
Vel gripped his dagger tighter at those words, even as sunlight began creeping higher into the sky above them.
Vel's ears perked up at the faint sound. At first, it was almost indistinguishable from the rustling leaves or the rhythmic chirping of birds, but soon it grew louder—a low, rhythmic rumble beneath his feet. He stopped in his tracks, glancing back at Landre, who looked equally confused.
"What is that?" Vel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The group halted, tension thickening like the humid forest air. Von raised a hand to silence any further questions, his expression sharp and alert as he scanned their surroundings. Bestiel tilted his head, as if trying to identify the noise.
Honka stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Stay put." Without waiting for a response, he bolted toward the nearest tree and began scaling it with surprising agility for someone of his bulk. Bark crumbled under his grip as he hoisted himself higher and higher until he vanished into the canopy.
Seconds stretched unbearably long before Honka's voice called down through the branches. "Riders!" There was a note of relief in his tone that eased some of the tension below. "A group on horseback… and…" He paused before letting out a booming laugh. "Looks like our hunter friend's with 'em—Mora!"
Vel felt something tight in his chest loosen just slightly at those words. He exchanged a glance with Landre, whose wide eyes softened with cautious hope.
Von didn't relax entirely but gave a short nod. "Let's stay visible then. If Mora's leading them, they're likely here to help."
Honka descended swiftly from the tree with an energy that seemed almost gleeful now. His boots hit the ground with a heavy thud as he grinned broadly at Von and Vel alike.
"Told you they'd come through," he said smugly while brushing bark dust from his hands.
Vel moved near Landre as they waited for the riders. The thundering hooves grew until they filled the clearing, drawing closer by the second.
Von moved forward slightly ahead of them all, placing himself between the group and whatever lay just out of sight along the path ahead.
The riders burst from the trees, Mora in the lead pulling her horse up short, her face a mix of worry and welcome. Three seasoned warriors followed, their commanding presence immediately changing the group's atmosphere.
Mora dismounted in one fluid motion, her boots hitting the ground as she strode toward them. "Bestiel," she called, her voice steady despite the clear strain of exhaustion. "Didn't think to see you this far out"
Bestiel stepped forward, offering a tired smile as he extended a hand. "We're hanging on. Good to see you alive too."
Honka dropped from his perch with a dramatic thud, brushing dirt off his hands as he grinned. "About time you showed up!" His booming voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Mora turned to him briefly but didn't return his humor. Her focus shifted back to the group behind her. "These are reinforcements," she explained quickly, gesturing to each in turn.
The first was a wiry man with sharp eyes and a staff slung across his back. His robe shimmered faintly under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. "Ino," Mora introduced him. "Gold-ranked Mage."
Next was a woman who carried herself with quiet grace, clutching both a grimoire and wand as if they were extensions of herself. Her soft features belied an unmistakable strength beneath her calm exterior. "Kasia," Mora continued, nodding toward her. "Priestess from the Church."
Finally came a towering figure whose great-axe seemed almost too large for any human to wield comfortably—yet he carried it with ease. His armor bore the scars of countless battles, and his expression was one of grim determination. "And Yuro," Mora finished simply. "Platinum-ranked Fighter."
Landre's gaze lingered on Kasia longer than Vel expected; there was something in her expression—curiosity? Admiration? Vel couldn't quite place it.
Von broke the silence first, stepping closer to Mora as if urgency demanded it. "What's your plan?"
Before Mora could answer, Bestiel interjected with grim news: Clara's sacrifice, how she stayed behind to buy time for their escape—and how the Alpha Wulfangs had left their portal.
"The Alphas…" Bestiel's voice lowered slightly, weighted by grief and fatigue. "...they're what keeps that portal open—but they're out now. There might be other survivors scattered out there still wandering around."
Mora absorbed this quickly before turning back to her team, exchanging glances with Ino and Yuro.
"We'll go after them," Yuro declared without hesitation.
Ino nodded firmly while Kasia's grip on her wand tightened slightly.
Yuro turned to Honka, his voice carrying the weight of command. "We could use your strength. The Alphas won't fall easily."
Honka cracked his knuckles, a fierce grin spreading across his face. "About time someone asked. Been itching for some payback."
"Take my horse," Mora offered, handing him the reins. "We'll get these folks to safety while you deal with those beasts."
Kasia stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm. "If Clara still lives, we'll find her. If not..." She left the words hanging.
Ino was already mounting up, his staff glowing faintly. "Time's wasting. Those creatures won't wait for us to gather our courage."
Honka swung onto Mora's horse with surprising grace for his size. The four adventurers exchanged quick nods before spurring their mounts toward Oakhaven, leaving behind a cloud of dust and the thunder of hoofbeats.
Mora watched them disappear before turning to the rest of the group. "Right then. Elnor's about half a day's walk from here. Bestiel and I know the safest routes."
Vel felt a mix of relief and worry as he watched Honka's group vanish into the forest. But with Mora and Bestiel's presence, the path ahead seemed less daunting than before.
End of Chapter 5.