The smell of blood still lingered in the air.
The corrupted boar's massive body lay in the center of the village square, its blackened flesh twisted, tusks cracked, and blood pooling around its corpse. Even in death, the beast was terrifying. Villagers gave it a wide berth, whispering among themselves as if afraid the creature might rise again.
But it wasn't just the monster that unsettled them.
Every glance turned, sooner or later, to the boy sitting on the stone edge of the well.
Alaric.
He sat with his staff leaning lazily against his shoulder, legs dangling as he kicked them slowly back and forth. His snow-white hair was messy as always, sticking out in every direction, and his golden eyes half-lidded with the same disinterested look he wore in almost every situation. If not for the faint glow that still clung to him, the villagers might have mistaken him for a sleepy child who had nothing to do with the chaos.
But they had seen.
They had seen how the ground itself obeyed him. How roots had sprung from the earth glowing with life, only to rot black under his command. How he had bound the wolf and slowed the monstrous boar.
No normal child could do that.
"He touched the earth, and it moved."
"I saw him—he made it grow, then he killed it in the same breath."
"That power isn't natural… it isn't right."
Whispers spread like wildfire, darting from mouth to mouth, soft but sharp. Some voices carried awe, others fear.
Ryn stood beside him, arms crossed and face tight. His green eyes kept flicking to the people who whispered, his jaw clenching harder with every word.
"Don't listen to them," he muttered under his breath. "They don't know anything."
Alaric raised one brow, his chin resting on his palm. "Oh, I'm not listening. Totally deaf right now. Look at me. Zoning out like a pro."
Ryn stared at him for a moment, then frowned. "You don't look deaf. You look smug."
"Same thing." Alaric stretched, yawning. His staff tilted, and he lazily caught it before it could fall. "Anyway, let them talk. It's not like I've got energy to shout back."
Ryn wanted to argue, but the heavy sound of boots on stone silenced him.
Kael had arrived.
The captain of the hunters walked into the square with steady steps, his presence as sharp as his scarred face. His spear rested in his hand, its blade still stained dark from the fight. Around him, the whispers died quickly. The villagers turned their eyes away, but their unease lingered.
Kael stopped in front of Alaric. His gaze was steady, unwavering.
"Boy."
Alaric tilted his head, golden eyes peeking up lazily. "…Yeah?"
"You saved lives today," Kael said, his deep voice carrying through the square. "But you also showed something dangerous."
Alaric blinked slowly. "Dangerous? You mean the giant, corrupted boar that almost trampled half the village? Yeah, I agree. Very dangerous."
A few of the hunters shifted awkwardly. Someone in the crowd coughed. Ryn smothered a laugh, but Kael didn't react.
"You twist life and death as if they're toys," Kael continued. His grip on the spear tightened. "That's not magic the rest of us know. That is something else. Something people fear."
The villagers murmured again, voices low, rippling with unease.
Alaric let out a small sigh. He leaned his chin back on his hand, staring at Kael like the man had just asked him to solve math problems on an empty stomach. "If I was really dangerous, you wouldn't be standing here, would you? You'd be lying in pieces like that boar."
The square went quiet. His words, spoken casually, hung in the air like a sharp blade.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "You speak boldly for a child."
"I get that a lot." Alaric smirked faintly.
Ryn stepped forward suddenly, fists clenched at his sides. "It's not fair! He saved us. If it weren't for Alaric, half of us wouldn't have come back from that fight. You saw it, Kael!"
Kael's jaw tightened. His gaze flicked briefly toward Ryn, then back to Alaric. His silence was heavier than words.
And then, another figure moved.
From the edge of the square, stepping out of the shadow cast by the boar's corpse, came Ashen. His tall form drew every eye instantly. He was dressed in his usual butler-like attire—black suit pressed clean despite the hunt, silver-gray eyes cold and unreadable, sword resting at his hip.
His presence was enough to silence the square completely.
Ashen's voice cut through the stillness. "This child is under my protection."
The villagers stiffened. Some took a step back without realizing it. Kael, however, stood his ground, his spear steady.
Ashen's pale gaze did not waver. "Judge him as you wish. But remember who stands beside him."
The weight of those words pressed on everyone present. Kael's fingers tightened around his weapon, but his eyes stayed locked on Ashen. "…And who exactly are you?"
Ashen's expression didn't change. His reply was simple, but heavy. "A guardian."
Silence again. Even the wind seemed to hush.
The square was silent.
Ashen's declaration hung in the air, cold and final. The villagers shifted uneasily, eyes darting between the tall, pale figure and the scarred hunter captain.
Kael did not move at first. His hand gripped his spear so tightly that the leather creaked. But even with the tension pressing down, he didn't back away. His voice was low, steady.
"A guardian, you say. Then tell me—how long do you plan to hide the truth of this boy's power?"
Ashen's silver-gray eyes flicked toward Alaric, then returned to Kael. "As long as it takes for him to survive."
The words carried a quiet weight. They weren't a threat, but they weren't something Kael could easily dismiss either.
The villagers whispered again, louder this time.
"Survive?"
"What does that mean?"
"Is the boy cursed?"
Alaric sighed, sliding down the well stone until he was slouching like a lazy cat. He raised one hand half-heartedly.
"Hey, hello, still here. Maybe we don't talk about me like I'm not sitting in front of you?"
The whispers stopped for a second, though the stares didn't. Alaric rubbed his temple, his golden eyes half-lidded.
"Look, I get it. You're freaked out. Roots, rot, glowing light, spooky magic. Yeah, I saw it too. Pretty wild. But…" He waved vaguely at the boar's corpse. "That thing would've flattened you all without me. So maybe, instead of calling me cursed, you just… I don't know, say 'thanks'? Bake me a pie? A cookie? I like cookies."
A few people actually laughed, short and nervous, like they weren't sure if they were allowed. But Kael didn't.
The hunter captain stepped forward, his boots crunching against the blood-stained dirt. His shadow fell over Alaric.
"You saved us," Kael admitted. "That cannot be denied. But uncontrolled power kills as easily as it saves. If you want to stay here, boy, you will prove to me that you can master it."
The square grew quiet again. The villagers leaned in, waiting for Alaric's answer.
Alaric tilted his head, lips twitching into a crooked smile. "…Prove it, huh? You mean more training?"
"Yes." Kael's tone left no room for argument. "You will train. You will show me you can use that power with discipline, not just desperation. Until then, I cannot trust you."
Ryn stepped in front of Alaric again, his voice rising. "That's not fair! He already proved himself! You saw what he did—"
Kael cut him off with a glare. "Stay out of this, Ryn. This isn't about fairness. It's about danger."
Ryn clenched his fists, but he didn't move aside. His green eyes burned with anger. "He's my friend. He's not dangerous."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Not yet."
The words stung sharper than a blade. Alaric's smirk faltered for a moment. He leaned back, golden eyes staring at Kael with a lazy sort of defiance.
"…You want control? Fine. I'll play along. But don't expect me to run around like some training dog. Walking is enough."
That earned a few muffled laughs from the villagers again. Even Ryn grinned despite the tension.
Kael, however, remained stern. "Then it begins tomorrow. At dawn."
Alaric groaned loudly, dragging his hand down his face. "Dawn? Really? Ugh. Why can't evil monsters show up at noon? I'm not a morning person."
Ashen finally spoke again, his voice calm but firm. "He will do what is needed. But you will remember this, Kael—his power is not yours to command. Only his."
Kael met his gaze one last time, then turned sharply on his heel. "At dawn," he repeated, his voice carrying over the square. He strode away, the hunters following.
The crowd broke slowly after that, whispers trailing behind them. Some faces held relief, others fear. None looked entirely at ease.
When they were gone, Alaric leaned his head back against the well and let out a long sigh.
"Well, that went great. Ten out of ten, no notes."
Ryn dropped down beside him, punching his shoulder lightly. "You could've taken it seriously."
"I did," Alaric said, eyes closed. "I seriously hated every second of it."
Ashen stood silently nearby, his gaze sweeping the square as the last villagers dispersed. When he finally looked down at Alaric, his expression hadn't changed, but the way his hand lingered near his sword spoke volumes.
He was ready to shield the boy, no matter what came next.
Night fell quickly over the village.
The corrupted boar's body had been dragged to the edge of the forest, where the hunters burned it under Kael's order. Black smoke rose into the sky, thick and bitter. Even from the square, Alaric could smell the stench of rotting flesh carried by the wind.
He wrinkled his nose. "Ugh. Who needs dinner when you've got that smell in your face."
Ryn sat cross-legged beside him, trying to poke the dirt with a stick. "Better burned than left to rot," he said seriously. "If we don't, more corruption could spread."
Alaric glanced at him, his golden eyes glinting under the torchlight. "…You sound like Kael."
Ryn puffed out his cheeks. "I don't sound like him!"
"Yeah, you do. All stern and serious. Next thing you'll tell me is 'at dawn, Alaric, sharpen your staff.'"
Ryn snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Well, maybe you should. Your staff looks like you use it for walking naps, not fighting."
"Exactly." Alaric leaned back, stretching his arms. "Why fight when I can nap?"
Ryn laughed, shaking his head. "You're impossible."
The laughter eased the heaviness for a moment, but when silence settled again, Alaric could still feel the weight of the stares that had followed him all day. He didn't say it, but he knew the whispers hadn't stopped. Even if people weren't speaking, their eyes said enough.
Danger. Strange. Unnatural.
Alaric closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. Figures. Born rich, stolen poor, raised in a cave with a zombie babysitter, and now when I finally get neighbors, they think I'm cursed. Fantastic.
Ashen stood nearby, as always, his tall figure like a dark statue against the torchlight. The faint breeze rustled his black suit, but his silver-gray eyes never left Alaric.
Finally, he stepped forward.
"You're injured."
Alaric blinked open one eye. "…What?"
Ashen crouched beside him, and before Alaric could protest, cold fingers brushed his arm. A shallow scratch, hidden beneath dirt and cloth, came into view. Ashen pulled a strip of clean cloth from inside his coat, wrapping it around the wound with precise movements.
Alaric frowned lightly, watching him work. "It's just a scratch. Doesn't even sting."
Ashen's hands paused for the faintest moment. Then he continued, voice quiet. "…Even scratches fester if left untreated."
The way he said it—calm, almost emotionless—still carried weight. For a moment, Alaric thought he saw something flicker in Ashen's eyes. Not just duty, but something harder to name.
Alaric smirked faintly, trying to break the heaviness. "You're fussing too much. You'll ruin your butler image."
Ashen tied the knot on the bandage, then straightened. His face gave nothing away. But the care lingered, heavier than words.
Ryn leaned closer, grinning. "You're lucky. Everyone else gets scolded for their mistakes. You get… wrapped like a baby."
"Shut it," Alaric muttered, tugging his sleeve down to cover the cloth.
Ashen's gaze swept the square one last time before he stepped back into his silent post.
The night grew darker. The smoke from the burning carcass still stained the sky, mixing with the stars above. The village seemed quieter than usual, as if holding its breath.
Alaric tilted his head back, staring up at the faint glow of the moon. His golden eyes reflected it, tired but stubborn.
Kael wants me to prove myself. Fine. But control? Discipline? Ugh. That sounds like work.
He chuckled softly under his breath, but it faded quickly. His chest felt heavier than he wanted to admit.
Still… if I don't control this, if I don't figure it out… they'll never stop looking at me like I'm a curse.
The thought lingered, sharp and bitter. He hated it.
From the edge of the forest, a howl broke the silence. Long, low, and wrong.
Ryn sat up straighter, eyes wide. "That wasn't normal…"
Ashen's hand moved to the hilt of his sword immediately, his silver-gray eyes narrowing toward the trees.
Alaric groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Seriously? I just got comfortable. Can't corruption take a night off?"
But deep down, his stomach tightened. That howl wasn't like the beasts before. It carried weight, something deeper, darker.
The night air grew colder. The torches flickered.
And for the first time, Alaric realized—this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.