The morning sun struggled to pierce the grime-coated window, casting the room in a sickly gray light.
I sat on the edge of my sagging bed, elbows on my knees, fingers knotted together.
Ten years.
That's how far I'd been thrown back.
Ten years to undo a lifetime of pain, betrayal, and failure.
Ten years to hunt down the ones who destroyed me.
The memories were carved into me like scars that would never fade. Aric's mocking smile. My comrades' dying screams. The crushing jaws of the Infernal Wyrm.
All of it burned in me, feeding a fire that would never go out.
My body now? Pathetic.
F− rank.
A stray goblin could snap my neck if I wasn't careful.
But my will? Harder than steel.
If they learned I was back—if Aric caught even the faintest whisper—I'd be dead before I drew my second breath.
So I became a shadow.
A worn cloak draped over me, hiding my face. I slipped into Valenport's bustling streets like just another nobody.
The air was thick with the scent of baking bread, fried street food, and the harsh tang of molten metal from the smithies. Merchants shouted over each other, waving goods in the faces of passing customers.
I kept my head down. Eyes scanning. Searching for my first step back to power.
A creaking wooden sign caught my attention:
"Quests Available — See Merchant Loran."
Perfect.
The man behind the stall was short but broad, with shrewd eyes that missed nothing. He looked me over like a butcher eyeing a slab of meat.
"You look new," he said. "What can you do?"
"Anything you need." My voice was low, steady.
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Goblins. Eastern farmlands. Raiding, killing. Make it quiet, and you'll be paid."
I took the crude map from his hands. "Consider it done."
The farmlands were hours away, the road long and empty. Every step was a reminder of how far I'd fallen—my muscles aching, my lungs burning.
At the forest's edge, I stilled. Listened.
The goblins were noisy, their guttural chatter spilling through the trees. They didn't even notice me until the first one's throat opened under my blade.
No screams. Just a wet gurgle and a slump into the dirt.
Two more came at me, spears raised.
I weaved between them, my dagger burying itself in the second's ribs before slicing across the third's chest.
One turned to flee. A flick of my wrist, and my throwing knife silenced him mid-step.
The last two fought like cornered rats, axes trembling in their hands.
I planted my feet. My movements were precise, cold—each strike a whisper from the man I used to be. Lightning sparked faintly at my fingertips, a promise of the power I would reclaim.
Steel clashed. Flesh parted.
And then… silence.
Less than five minutes.
By the time I returned to Valenport, my hands were steady, my expression unreadable. I placed a severed goblin ear on Loran's counter.
He turned it over, then looked at me with raised brows.
"Most hunters take twice as long and bring back half the proof."
I shrugged. "I get the job done."
His gaze narrowed. "What rank are you?"
"New."
A beat of silence. Then, a thin smile.
"You're good. Real good."
Too good. That kind of attention could kill me.
But the coins he dropped into my palm were real. Enough for supplies. Enough for the next step.
Back in my apartment, I spread the map on the table.
This was only the beginning.
I'd rise slowly. Carefully. My strength would grow in the shadows, my name hidden until the moment it became a weapon.
I'd never be betrayed again.
And when the time came…
I wouldn't just kill Aric.
I'd make him beg.