The room was far too opulent for a man of such low station. Velvet drapes of deep crimson hung like silent sentinels over tall windows, their gilded tassels brushing the polished marble floor. The scent of wax polish mixed with the musty tang of old paper, while crystal lamps cast soft pools of golden light that danced along the walls. Every shelf was stuffed with scrolls and leather-bound tomes, as though knowledge—or the illusion of it—could lend the room its grandeur.
Four men occupied the room.
Near the grand double doors stood a figure—broad-shouldered and grim, arms crossed. Hando, once the feared leader of the Helbei mountain bandits, his rough posture makes one not want to approach him.
Behind a grand mahogany desk sat Vice Mayor Elric, A portly man with thinning silver hair, his face glistened with sweat. Rings adorned his pudgy fingers, and the silk robe stretched across his midsection creased awkwardly as he leaned forward, visibly uneasy.
Behind him loomed his personal guard—a man with the blank-eyed discipline of a soldier and a face chiseled in stoic resolve. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the other twitching ever so slightly at his side. But his eyes—his eyes were locked onto the man by the window.
That man… was Carson.
He stood apart from the others, tall and lean, his back straight as an iron rod. The long white coat he wore clung to him like a second skin, its high collar framing a face as pale as winter frost. Hands clasped behind his back, he gazed out at the town below through the tall glass panes, eyes flickering in the faint reflection like dying embers.
When he spoke, his voice came soft but sharp—like ice cracking beneath your feet.
"Is the task I gave you done?"
No name. No pleasantries. Just the question.
The words hung in the air like a blade.
Elric swallowed hard, throat bobbing. "N-Not yet… We only just confirmed his location." His eyes darted nervously toward Hando, but the bandit didn't so much as blink.
"The young man's name is Altair Camis," Elric continued, voice pitched with urgency. "He was arrested this morning. We've been searching since yesterday, but he vanished. We thought he left town, but… he returned this morning and he got imprisoned. So we don't dare to touch him right away because I'm worried that they would track it back to me…"
Carson turned slowly, the movement deliberate, fluid, and terrifying in its calmness. His pale eyes locked onto Elric, and for a moment, the vice mayor felt as if he was going to be eaten alive. The feeling that Carson gave him was that of a predator watching his prey.
"As expected. Useless," Carson murmured, voice devoid of emotion. "Just one man. And still, you failed."
Elric stammered, face pale. "It was… it was unexpected, I assure you. But I'm already arranging it. I've contacted someone to take care of it—quietly, once the situation becomes messy, he'll be dealt with immediately."
Carson scoffed, the sound barely audible, but it sent a shiver down Elric's spine.
"No need. I'll do it myself. That man seems far too lucky. I wonder... will he still feel lucky when I'm standing over him?" A faint, twisted smile curled on Carson's lips. "What a troublesome fellow. Since he was involved in ruining our plans he should be dealt with accordingly." Anyways, he ordered them to deal with that man to test whether he was an awakened or not. But now that they were unable to check him yet, it's better to do it himself.
The chill in the room deepened.
Elric shot to his feet, panic rushing through him. "No—wait! Please! There's no need for you to dirty your hands! Everything is already in place!" He fumbled through the clutter on his desk, knocking scrolls and seals aside. "I've stationed my men inside," Elric blurted. "After the next shift change, it'll be only my people." He paused to wipe sweat from his brow. "We'll deal with him then—quietly, cleanly."
Carson's eyes narrowed into slits.
"I said I'll handle it," he said flatly. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Then, after a pause, his tone shifted. "But… go ahead and arrange your people. Tell them I'll go over for a visit."
His words hung in the air like a threat wrapped in velvet.
The madness glinting in Carson's eyes was unmistakable now—calculated, simmering just beneath the surface. Elric's knees nearly gave out.
"O-Okay… I understand. I'll do as you say."
Carson gave a faint nod, then turned back toward the window as though the conversation bored him. The storm clouds outside had gathered thick and low, casting a shadow over the cobbled streets below.
"What about the operation?" he asked without looking back. "Is everything arranged?"
Elric nodded quickly, wiping sweat from his brow. "Yes… yes, of course. Everything is ready. We're just waiting for the signal."
Silence fell again.
Carson lingered there at the window, still and unmoving. Thunder grumbled somewhere in the distance. The air inside the room tightened—suffocating and tense—as if the very walls were holding their breath.
"Good," Carson finally murmured, almost to himself. "Let the storm come."
— —
Far to the west of town, beneath the dying glow of a late afternoon sun, six soldiers on horseback rode along a narrow, seldom-used forest path. The trees here had grown sparse—thinner than they should be. Though it wasn't autumn, leaves drifted silently to the ground, as if the forest itself had given up.
Everything was slowly being corroded.
The once-lush foliage was dull and brittle, and even the birds had grown quiet. In a few short months, these mountains would be stripped bare, with only skeletal wood left to stand against the wind.
Captain Rhys tugged at the reins of his chestnut steed and raised a hand. "We camp here," he ordered, his voice calm but firm. "Light a fire. Check your weapons. There's a heaviness in the air… it'll likely rain soon."
The soldiers dismounted without a word, moving with the efficiency of long campaigns. They cleared a patch of overgrown grass, gathered dry branches, and struck flint until a modest flame sprang to life. Soon, the comforting scent of boiling soup and stewed potatoes drifted into the dusky woods.
Rhys removed his gauntlets, flexing his fingers as he gave further orders. "Watch rotations every two hours. Stay sharp. We are closing in, in the center of the mountain, So don't lower your guard, yet."
"Yes, Captain," came the murmured replies.
As night settled in, the tension eased. A few light jokes passed around the fire. One of the younger men leaned back with a soft chuckle, chewing on a piece of dried meat. Another sharpened his blade, humming softly.
But none of them noticed the stillness creeping in.
From within the undergrowth, something watched.
Red eyes glowed like embers beneath a bramble bush. The creature crouched low, nearly blending into the darkened forest. Its rust-red skin gleamed faintly under the flickering firelight. Around its neck was a thick, iron chain, a glowing red stone embedded in the collar. Its breath was slow… measured. Fangs, jagged and blackened, curled into a soundless snarl.
Suddenly, one of the horses reared up, releasing a high-pitched whinny.
The soldiers shot to their feet instantly, hands flying to their weapons.
They look at the surroundings.
The creature moved towards them in slow steps.
"What was that?" one hissed, his voice tight with unease.
Another stepped forward, his face pale. "R-Rust… Captain that's Rust right?"
"What? Rust? Then what's that thing doing here?"
Captain Rhys's expression turned grim.
"A Rust? Here…?" he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.
Then, louder, he barked, "Formation! Keep calm. It's just one monster. Raise your blades and hold!"
Steel rang through the clearing as the soldiers fell into practiced stances. But none of them could shake the chill crawling up their spines.
The creature stepped forward, slow and deliberate.
Its eyes gleamed with malice.
And then—it shrieked.
The sound split the night, a horrible, twisting cry that didn't belong to anything of this world.
The Rust lunged.
Chaos erupted. Steel clashed against claws. A soldier screamed as the beast tore into him, blood soaking the earth. The fire shattered, flames scattering into dying embers. Sparks danced in the air as the night swallowed them whole.
Rhys swung his blade with everything he had, shouting commands that no one could hear over the shrieks and screams.
And then—silence.
Then only the wind, whispering through Helbei's cursed woods.
But the nightmare had only just begun.
All across the northern perimeter near Helbei Forest, similar cries echoed.
— —
The chill of night seeped into the stone walls of the town prison.
Altair stirred from a short sleep, jolted awake by distant shouting. Metal clanged. Boots pounded.
He sat up quickly, breath catching. "What's going on?"
Outside his narrow window, the moon was barely visible—obscured by roiling clouds, swollen and black as ink. A faint rumble of thunder followed.
Then came the roar of a horn. A signal. Soldiers' voices shouting in urgency.
Something's wrong.
He stood up and went to the door of the cell, "What is happening out there…" he murmured.