They crossed several hills, following hidden trails twisted among tangled roots and violet thorns. By the time the second moon rose high, a small village appeared before Lâm Dạ, encircled by a black wooden fence—where faint firelight from ember pits flickered against huts made of animal hide. A wooden sign engraved with strange symbols hung above the village gate:
Mạt Gia Thôn.
Inside, the villagers wore clothes made from fur and rough leather armor. Their gazes were wary, but not hostile—perhaps the girl had warned them. She led Lâm Dạ to the largest hut near the village center—its roof covered in dark leaves and animal bones, thick incense smoke curling into the air.
> "Mạt Lý—our village chief," the girl said, her gaze softening for the first time.
Inside, an old man with a beard as white as snow sat silently by the fire. His eyes were still sharp as steel. In his hand, he held a staff engraved with swirling sigils.
> "You don't belong here… I can hear it in the unfamiliar rhythm of your breath," he said in the native tongue, yet the gem embedded in Lâm Dạ's chest allowed him to understand every word.
Lâm Dạ bowed slightly. He had nothing to hide, and no idea where to begin.
---
🌿 Several days passed...
Lâm Dạ was allowed to stay in the village. He helped with chores: fetching water, lighting fires, collecting herbs, cleaning hides, forging tools... Though exhausting, it helped him slowly integrate.
Then, something strange happened.
> Whenever someone spoke near him... their language became clearer in his mind, like a stream flowing through thought.
By the third day, he could understand most everyday phrases. By the fifth, he began to speak in their tongue—haltingly, but surely.
One day, as Chief Mạt Lý pounded herbs, he remarked unexpectedly:
> "You learn quickly… Something within you is awakening."
Lâm Dạ said nothing, but he too sensed it.
Every time he touched something new—a tool, a phrase, a mysterious symbol—he absorbed it with unnatural ease. It felt as though the gem inside him was unlocking memories that had never existed.
One night, while standing watch by the village fence, the huntress approached.
> "My name is Mạt Sa Yên," she said, offering her first smile.
> "Lâm Dạ," he replied. The firelight reflected in both their eyes—two wandering souls drawn into shared destiny.
Far off in the forest, a long howl echoed—not from a beast, nor a man.
> "It's here again…" Sa Yên drew her bow, eyes as sharp as the first time they met.
Lâm Dạ reached for his chest, where that strange energy had once flowed. His heart pounded—not with fear, but with a primal instinct:
The night wind thickened, like dense mud flowing through the cracked wooden fence. The flame in Lâm Dạ's hand flickered wildly, as if terrified of something unnamed.
From deep within the forest, the howl rose again—long, urgent, like a war horn from an ancient predator.
> "That… doesn't sound like the last time," Sa Yên hissed, eyes locked on the darkness ahead.
"BOOM!!!"
Suddenly, a deafening impact shook the earth. Trees bent. Red dust billowed. The western fence exploded into splinters.
From the shadows, a massive beast charged forward.
Its body was covered in black-violet scales. Four legs thick as a man's torso, claws dragging trenches into the soil. Bony lumps throbbed across its back like parasitic lungs. Its eyes blazed orange like infernal fire.
A long scar ran from its neck to belly—it had once been hunted, but survived, and now returned for vengeance.
> "RUAAAAAARRR!!"
The roar shook the entire village.
Villagers screamed. Smoke and dust filled the air. The beast crashed into a hut, crushing it. A blacksmith was torn apart in an instant.
> "Fall back!" Sa Yên shouted, yanking Lâm Dạ's arm.
She reached behind her and pulled out a beastbone horn—spiraled, etched with protective runes.
"TOOT!!"
The horn's cry echoed like a call from prehistory. Torches ignited. Figures sprang into action.
> "Hunting party!! Assemble!!"
From the huts, strong young men emerged, armed with bows, spears, axes, and crude blades.
The beast roared, flinging three men aside like straw. The rest held their ground.
> "Cut its legs! Cripple it!" Chief Mạt Lý's voice roared above the chaos, his hands gripping a double-bladed spear.
The battle began under moonlight, fire, blood, and screams entwined.
🩸 A fierce and tragic fight
Sa Yên dove through the underbrush, loosing three arrows into the beast's side—splintered, but enough to stagger it.
Mạt Lý surged forward, thrusting his spear through one eye—black blood sprayed, but the creature didn't fall.
A young hunter slashed at its leg with a great axe—only to be swatted into a tree, motionless.
> "Fall back!! Regroup!!" a voice shouted amidst the chaos.
Then, a gleaming purple dagger thrown by Sa Yên struck the beast's jaw hinge—just enough hesitation for Mạt Lý to drive his spear into its heart.
The beast shrieked, thrashed, then collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Smoke thinned…
Silence fell over Mạt Gia Village.
Only fire crackled and the labored breathing of survivors remained.
Three hunters lay still, blood trailing beneath them. Others staggered, armor torn, bones broken. Groans filled the air.
> "No one expected… an ambush. No signs," Mạt Lý muttered, voice heavy like splintering stone.
---
Lâm Dạ stared at the beast's corpse, his gaze burdened.
> "I… couldn't do anything."
But deep in his chest, the black gem pulsed warmly. And he could feel it:
> Something from that creature… had left a trace.
A door within him creaked open.
And a new power… stirred.