Dawn came quietly over Korvan Village.
Mist hung low above the ridges, curling through the faint morning light. The forge, still warm from the night before, let out a slow exhale of smoke — not roaring as it once did, but steady, alive.
Hunnt stood within the forge, the flames flickering behind him, his shadow long against the wall. Around him, resting on polished wooden stands, lay the weapons and armor he had spent weeks forging. The air felt sacred, thick with the weight of what had been created here.
He looked at them one by one — each piece gleaming faintly in the early light.
Kael's Wyrmflare Tempest, sleek and intricate, shimmered with etched runes along the barrel, designed for balance and precision. The Ashwing Vanguard armor beside it was lightweight yet unyielding, the Eternal mark hidden on a silver necklace resting at its collar.
Alder's Obsidian Dragonheart radiated a faint heat, its blade reflecting the forge's glow like trapped firelight. The Obsidian Sentinel armor behind it stood tall and imposing — a fortress carved in black and crimson, with the Eternal mark engraved beneath the right shoulder plate.
Seren's Aegis of the Infernal Wyrm and Furnace Aegis glimmered next — built for defense and endurance, yet graceful in form. The embedded bolts on the shield caught the light like sparks frozen mid-air, and the Eternal mark on the lance glowed faintly golden.
Finally, at the farthest end of the row stood Hunnt's own creation — the Infernal Drakebreaker and the Eternal Veilborn armor. The twin forms of gauntlet and hammer lay folded together, dark as cooled magma, veins of red running through its core. The armor beside it reflected not pride, but peace — the stillness of a flame that no longer needed to prove its strength.
Four creations.
Four stories.
Four lives, reforged.
Hunnt exhaled slowly. "It's time."
---
By noon, Kael, Alder, and Seren arrived at the forge.
They paused at the doorway — the heat rolling over them in waves, carrying with it the scent of scorched metal and oil. None spoke. They didn't need to. They knew what lay ahead.
Kael's sharp eyes were the first to land on the weapons. His expression softened, disbelief flickering across his face.
Alder followed, his steps slowing as if entering a shrine.
Seren stopped entirely, her breath caught in her throat, gaze fixed on the lance and shield bearing her Eternal mark.
Hunnt waited silently beside the anvil, hands clasped behind his back. The heat shimmered around him like a mirage, but his eyes were calm — the eyes of a man who had given everything, and expected nothing in return.
Alder was the first to speak. "You… forged all of these?"
Hunnt nodded. "Every piece. Every strike. Every mark."
Kael stepped forward, his hand brushing the side of the light bowgun. "You even remembered the recoil adjustment," he said with a half-smile. "You've been paying attention."
Hunnt allowed himself a small grin. "Someone has to keep you alive."
Seren knelt before her armor, tracing her hand over the surface of the shield. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "But heavy… like it's meant to carry more than just me."
Hunnt nodded. "It is. That shield's made for someone who stands when everyone else falls. Just make sure you keep doing that."
Seren smiled faintly. "I'll try."
Kael crouched near his bowgun, adjusting the mechanisms with a practiced touch. "You even made it lighter," he said, eyes narrowing in appreciation. "You used Ashen Wing scales, didn't you?"
"Among other things," Hunnt said. "Durability of Basal ore. Structure of Ignivar Wing. And a little of my patience."
Kael chuckled. "So it's priceless."
Alder ran his hand down the flat edge of the Obsidian Dragonheart, his reflection distorted in the polished surface. "It's heavier than the last one," he said, testing the grip. "But it feels… right."
Hunnt nodded. "It's not just a weapon. It's your heartbeat. It'll move the way you do. The throttle—"
"I saw it," Alder interrupted, flexing the handle. The weapon hummed softly. "Feels like it wants to fight."
"Then don't disappoint it," Hunnt replied, the corner of his mouth twitching.
---
When they were each armed and armored, Hunnt stepped back, resting his gauntlets on the anvil. The heat of the forge shimmered faintly behind him. His eyes drifted over them — the three Drifters standing before him in silence, each reflecting a different piece of his journey.
Kael — the mind. Calm, calculating, sharp as steel.
Alder — the shield. Loyal, stubborn, and unbreakable.
Seren — the heart. Courageous, selfless, and burning with new fire.
Hunnt inhaled deeply. "You've all fought, bled, and endured beside me," he began. "You've seen the monsters that walk this world. You've seen what the Guild turns away from. And you've chosen to keep walking anyway."
He lifted his gaze, voice steady.
"The weapons I've made for you aren't symbols. They're promises. They carry your will, your mistakes, your strength, and your fear. You don't wield them for glory. You wield them for the people who can't fight back."
His eyes met Seren's. "You especially know that now."
Seren's expression softened. She bowed her head slightly. "I won't forget it."
Kael smirked. "You sound like an Elder now."
Hunnt shrugged. "Maybe I'm getting old."
Alder chuckled. "Old, maybe. But still the strongest of us."
Hunnt gave him a side glance. "For now."
The room filled with a quiet laugh that eased the tension like cooling steel. But even as they smiled, all four of them felt it — that unspoken shift. Something had changed in the air. It wasn't just another hunt. This was a new beginning.
---
Hunnt stepped toward the center of the forge, gesturing for them to follow. He motioned to the small insignia carved into the back wall — the Eternal Mark, etched deep into the stone itself: a black circle enclosing a triangle and clenched fist.
"Touch it," Hunnt said quietly.
Kael, Alder, and Seren each placed their right hand upon the mark.
The metal hummed faintly beneath their palms — a low vibration, steady and pulsing.
For a brief moment, the forge itself seemed to breathe. The flames flickered brighter, then dimmed, leaving only a single golden light that cast their shadows long and unified across the walls.
Hunnt spoke softly, almost to himself.
"The path has no end."
The three answered in unison, without hesitation.
"The hunt has no master."
A silence followed — heavy, sacred.
Then Hunnt smiled. "Welcome back, Drifters."
---
That night, Korvan's forge burned quietly.
No roaring fire, no hammer's echo — just the steady warmth of flame and companionship. The four sat together outside under the starlight, their new weapons laid beside them, untouched yet alive.
No one spoke much. There were no speeches, no grand celebrations. Just quiet understanding — the kind that only comes from shared purpose.
Kael leaned back, looking at the stars. "You think the world will ever understand what we're doing?"
Hunnt shook his head. "It doesn't have to."
Alder grinned. "Good. I'd hate for the Guild to start stealing our style."
Seren laughed softly. "They wouldn't survive our training."
Hunnt smirked, eyes on the horizon. "Then we keep walking."
The others nodded. No questions. No doubts.
The Eternal Wanderers had been reborn — their marks hidden, their purpose clear.
The fire that Hunnt had started in the ruins of Ravenshire now burned in every one of them.
And as dawn rose again over Korvan Village, the forge's quiet flame reflected in four pairs of eyes — united, eternal, and unbreakable.