Evening settled in, a red strip over the trees. The day's warmth thinned to a light chill. Lanterns came on, throwing faint, unsteady shadows as doors latched and footsteps faded.
Vel knelt beside Kazar's basket, easing stems out so they wouldn't bruise. He lined leaves by size—feverfew, willowbark, two stray sprigs of mint. Kazar grunted without looking up.
The bell struck once—flat and heavy. Then again. Chickens burst from under a cart; a shutter slammed; the street's murmur snapped into shouts.
Vel left the herbs where they fell and ran for the square.
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.
"Mom, we need to find Lan-neechan and Father!"
"Vel, you need to hide."
"No—we have to find Father and Lan-neechan first. We don't have time."
"Fine. But we stay close together."
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.
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.
They ran past the ruined trading stalls—boards splintered, canvas torn, crates split open. The smell of yeast and turnip lingered in the cold.
Vel stopped. His foot nudged a fallen roll; flour dust rose. In the rubble, a blue ribbon rested on a small shoulder.
Roen knelt beside her. Lili lay still. Roen's hands were red where they pressed the dress.
His roar tore loose—hoarse, a father's. "My girl..."
Vel's heart stopped. He couldn't believe his eyes.
Why Lili? How did this happen? How did I let this happen? Too late already? What can I do now? Landre. Von. Help Roen—or find them?
"No... Lili..." Vel whispered—the only thing he could mutter at that moment.
He lifted his foot to step toward Roen—
From the square, a guard's bellow reeled him out of shock.
"Dammit—hold the line!"
"Stay together."
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.
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. Vel looked back—Roen had lifted Lili into his arms, cradling her against his chest—then the press of bodies and smoke swallowed them.
"This way." Mari led toward the gate.
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 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 prayer.
"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... that's the one from the portal." Bestiel breathed.
"That seems like an Alpha," Honka said, eyes on its stance. "It's leading the packs."
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.
"They will all die if we don't stop it here." Honka cut him off. He turned to Vel. "Kid, Clara's still at Kazar's hut. Someone needs to watch over her."
Vel nodded, understanding the weight of the request.
"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!" Blue light emanated from his forearms. "Bestiel, stay close. This won't be pretty."
The monk advanced toward the Alpha, each step measured and purposeful. Blue light streamed from fists and legs, winding into a tight spiral—a tornado along his line. The flow broke only at impact: each punch and kick snapped the whirl and sent Wulfangs spinning away before they slammed into crates and stone. Bestiel kept close in his wake.
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 flickered 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 Father?" Vel called, breathless.
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.
"Father—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." He 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, 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 crouched ahead, muscles coiled, eyes locked on Mari.
"Mari!"
"Mom!"
"Behind you!"
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." 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.
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—driving us into another one."
"Break left—off the trail, into the briars." His voice cut through the panic.
Kazar smashed a clay vial at their feet; bitter smoke blossomed and stung their eyes. "Go. It muddies scent."
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,"
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." Clara's tone brooked no argument. "Get these people to safety. It'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, each step away from Oakhaven heavier than the last. From Clara. From Lili with the blue ribbon. From the villagers who'd slipped past the watch and never returned. The weight of their absence pressed down on him.
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 distant of what used to be Oakhaven, 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." My voice came out weaker than I'd intended. "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. "Everyone is exhausted."
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.
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. "Can't go on like this."
Von scanned the group, his gaze lingering on each of us. "We'll rest here." His voice was firm despite his exhaustion. "We'll gather our strength, then continue."
We huddled together, catching our breath. The forest was eerily quiet compared to the chaos we'd left behind in the village; only the soft chirr of insects and the wind rustling the canopy broke the stillness. 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. Thirteen. There were only thirteen 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.
"Tir, God of Clairvoyance," the Seer prayed, his voice rough but hopeful. "Draw a veil over the fleeing and guide their steps—please let the others be safe."
Others had scattered; I could only hope they'd made it.
For now, being alive—together—was a blessing. My family within reach, even injured, exhausted, hungry.
I took a long breath, steadying my heart as the survivors gathered around the clearing.
"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."
While the others caught their breath, I turned to Mari—hunched, wincing at her wound.
"Mom, are you okay?"
She met my eyes and managed a small, warming smile.
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 as Mari's wound drew together slowly; the glow thinned, leaving a faint scar—and a phantom pain that made her flinch.
"Thank you," Mari said, testing the bandage. "Though… the pain's still there."
"That's normal," Bestiel said, slumping beside us. "It's the best I can do for now—my spell isn't strong enough, and my mana's gone. I need to rest."
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, a vague memory surfaced. 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—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. My identity felt so tangled in this new existence; it was suffocating.
Landre's prayer drifted behind me, quiet and steady. I glanced over—the thin pages rasped when the wind shifted. Belief kept her upright, calm and hopeful.
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.
"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.
"And what if someone isn't accepted?"
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."
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!
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.
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.
I leaned closer to Bestiel, my heart racing with anticipation.
"So, what happens after you attune to magic?"
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
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."
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 steadiness. She eased Mari's sleeve back and checked the fresh bandage with careful fingers, then slid the worn book under her arm instead of clutching it.
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?
"Magic isn't something you can force," Bestiel said, taking back his grimoire. "It comes with time, dedication, and true understanding."
A dry, involuntary laugh slipped out; Bestiel and Landre looked over. The irony landed hard: I'd built this world to obey its own laws, and now I couldn't muster even the simplest spell.
"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 kind of cosmic joke was this? I'd spent countless hours writing docs on mana flow, spirit interactions, and elemental resonance—arguing to make magic feel real, not just another mechanic. Now the systems I was proud of were the walls keeping me from 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."
I looked around the ring of faces—Mari, Von, Landre, the others—still here. Relief burned through the ache; for a moment I was simply glad the ones who hold me up in this world had made it this far. But the gap stayed: Lili, Roen. Where were they now—alive somewhere in the dark, or already fallen with Oakhaven?
That was reason enough to start from scratch. Learn to read, understand magic, grasp how this world had changed. 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.
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.
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?"
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.
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."
"About time you showed up!" Honka's booming voice cut through the tension.
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."
Yuro's gaze cut to Honka and held.
"I'll be damned. The Undefeated Monk walking away from a fight." He let it hang a heartbeat. "...Defeated."
Honka's grin thinned. "Keep talking, contract-man. I don't run—I regroup."
Mora stepped between them, not raising her voice. "Please, not here. Take it later—we need both of you for the Alphas."
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, unless you're planning to hide."
Honka cracked his knuckles, a fierce grin angled toward Yuro. "About time—better ready yourself, contract-man. It's not the same in Blackmarrow."
"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.
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End of Chapter 5.