"Gods, look at those arms. Built like a damned war ox." " You think he was carved from stone? His back's all muscle and scars… he even heals like a beast."
"A wounded one. He nearly died, remember?"
The voices were muffled at first, drifting in through a fog of pain and dull fire that burned in Harkin's shoulder. His eyes fluttered open to torchlight dancing on old timber beams. The air smelled of smoke, ale, and bloodied bandages. Somewhere nearby, iron clinked softly, like armour being adjusted.
"He's waking," the softer voice said.
Harkin groaned, blinking hard as the world sharpened. He was laid on a straw-stuffed cot, wrapped in rough wool blankets. A fire crackled in a stone hearth. Across from him stood a broad-shouldered man with a steel beard and tired, flinty eyes, arms crossed over a thick chest armoured in cracked leather. Beside him was a girl, who looked very, very young, with long blonde hair, slim, wiry and a strip of cloth tied around her wrist like a charm.
"The fuck…?" Harkin rasped, throat dry. "Where am I?"
The grizzled man stepped forward, his voice like gravel dragged through smoke. "You're at Glaivehall. A guild post. South ridge of the Craigspine Count
Harkin sat up slowly, every nerve in his body screaming in protest. He glanced at his bandaged arm and shoulder. "Why?" he muttered. "Why bother saving me?"
The man didn't flinch. "Because you're marked."
"...Marked?" Harkin thought to himself.
"Is there anywhere I can check out my wounds?" Harkin asked them.
The girl pointed toward the far side of the room, where a tarnished mirror hung above a basin. Still dazed, Harkin stumbled to his feet and staggered toward it. When he pulled his shirt aside, his reflection caught a strange shape along his back—just below the shoulder blade. It was the colour of his own skin, but raised, as if scarred into him: a jagged, starburst-like mark, faintly pulsing with heat even though it wasn't glowing.
He stared for a long moment, heart thudding.
"...Thanks," he muttered, glancing back. "You two. What are your names?"
The grizzled man nodded. "Barek. Former shield bearer now just a traveller if those still exist." Harkin nodded before turning to the girl. The girl gave a small wave. "Aylin. Apprentice healer. And tea-brewer, when he lets me." she grinned widely.
Harkin started chuckling. " A brewer? What is that, some rare order of Shield Maidens I've never heard of?"
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Aylin huffed, her cheeks turning bright red.
"Nothing, nothing," Harkin said with a smirk. "Oh mighty brewer of leaves and water."
"Anyways I'll head out and check out this Guild place I suppose" Harkin said. Barek nodded, Aylin still looked bright red from being made fun of for her tea brewery.
Harkin shut the heavy wooden doors and moved through the main hall and out a side passage that led into the open.
The air was crisper outside. A faint, chill wind swept through the stone corridor, leading into a small walled courtyard behind the guild. Torches were still lit along the edges, casting orange light over the cracked tiles and sparse garden plots. A few trees grew in the corners. Bare, gnarled things that looked like they'd seen way to many winters but when was the last time anything appeared in the blank sky. Harkin thought.
He exhaled slowly.
Silence. Finally.
He was to himself again.
Harkin stepped further in, boots crunching against gravel. He flexed his fingers. His limbs shouldnt have healed so fast. Whatever that mark did it greatly benefitted him alright.
Harkin felt a tingle from his body but ignored it until he heard it.
A thundering, snarling growl.
From the far gate at the end of the courtyard, something burst through. A beast.Massive, lumbering fast. At least eight feet tall, its body a grotesque bear like torso and some kind of long-horned lizard, thick-scaled and furred, drool trailing from jagged tusks.
It's eyes locked onto Harkin.
The beast blitzed towards Harkin with immense speed. Something in Harkin's mind cracked open. He could feel the creature's intent. Not thought. Not emotion. But movement. A strange, unnatural awareness flared through his spine—instinct sharper than any human's.
The beast was right next to Harkin as Harkin side stepped out the way with ease.
In a blur, he vanished from the beast's path. Dust burst where he'd been a second ago.
Then he was already beside it, close enough to grab it. With an almost unnatural ease Harkin grabbed the beast with both his hands on its torso, his fingers clamped down as he threw the 600 pound beast across the yard with ease.
It slammed into the outer wall of the courtyard with enough force to shatter the stone. A massive section of the wall collapsed under the impact, rubble flying everywhere in a plume of dirt.
Harkin didn't stop.
He leapt up legs coiling with strength he hadn't known he had. His body shot high into the air, far higher than expected. The world blurred around him. The beast below lay stunned in the rubble.
"Shit too high," he muttered mid-air.
Adjusting mid-fall, he twisted his body downward and slammed his elbow straight into the courtyard floor. The ground exploded with the impact, a crater blasting out beneath him, dust and shattered tiles exploding outward.
The beast began to stir again.
Harkin decided he'd tested his newfound strength enough. Unsheathing his sword, he struck at the charging beast with a speed that surprised even himself. Dozens of slashes tore through the creature, severing its arms and legs before finally decapitating it's head.
Silence.
Footsteps behind him. Slow. Stunned.
A guild member stood at the edge of the garden, jaw slack. Short-cropped hair, a scar down his chin, and a black-and-red sash that marked him as a Crimson Antler elite.
He stared at the remains.
"That was a training beast," he muttered, voice dry. " A whole three man hunting pack use those things for intense training and you just-"
His eyes drifted to the faint starburst mark near Harkin's shoulder blade where his shirt had torn.
"…You're marked, aren't you."
Harkin slid the sword back into its sheath.
"So they keep telling me."
The man let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "You're either cursed or chosen, friend. Either way… that ain't normal."
Then he turned and walked off, calling over his shoulder:
"Come inside soon. The Guildmaster's going to want a word."
Harkin stood there, dust settling around him, blood soaking into the earth.
"No its fine I don't want to be recruited into any Guilds" Harkin responded flatly.
"Ah I see." The man said pursing his lips. ""Solo hunter, huh? Well… hope the rest of your stay at Glaivehall goes smoothly." "The names Hienris." the man said before walking away.
Getting offers from a Guild. Harkin thought what a strange world just a day ago Guild's would scoff at him for being a solo hunter.