◇_ _
The masked protector stood motionless, blade in hand, posture braced—not from fear, but clarity.
He had already counted his odds.
One Grizzly Giant was bad enough. Two, synchronized and grieving, made retreat impossible and survival unlikely. And with the girl unconscious behind him, shielding her was already costing him angles.
Then the air shifted.
At first, it was subtle—like the breath of the forest held itself a moment too long. The wind didn't fade. It recoiled. Leaves stilled. Branches bent as if they were trying to avoid something. As though the entire woodland had sensed something before the protector had.
The Grizzlies stopped.
Not frozen. Listening.
Their massive shoulders lifted with shallow breaths. Their claws dug into the earth—not to charge, but to anchor themselves. The younger one growled low, a sound that never rose past its throat.
And then it came.
Not like a predator breaking from the shadows.
Not like a hero stepping into the light.
They felt as if destruction was coming.
It walked.
Casual.
Steady.
The figure emerged from the thick treeline as if it had always belonged there, like the forest hadn't parted for him—it had yielded. Not forced. Not asked. Yielded.
The ground beneath each step didn't tremble—it tightened. The way rock does before an earthquake. Small fractures formed in the charred soil where he passed, like the earth was warning itself not to resist.
He wore no cloak. No armor. His chest was bare beneath loose straps of leather and cloth, body wrapped in old scars and new tension. Red mana curled faintly around his forearm, not sparking, not flaring—just present. Controlled, but awake.
Nearly seven feet tall, his outline was sharp against the dim light—too tall to be just a common man. Too precise in movement to be a beast. His hair was untied, flowing to his back. His eyes weren't visible yet, but something about the way the forest pulled back made it clear:
Whatever he was, it didn't want anything to do with it.
The protector didn't move.
Couldn't.
Every instinct screamed to prepare—but for what, even instincts weren't sure.
Behind him, the golden-eyed girl stirred—barely a twitch of fingers, a breath caught in her throat.
Even unconscious, her body reacted.
And somewhere to the west, where the assassin lay shackled by silver-threaded mana, a whisper of panic slid between his lips.
"That's not a man," he breathed.
"That's… something else."
The Grizzlies held their ground, but the younger flinched. Its lips peeled back, revealing yellowed teeth clenched in indecision.
Then, as the figure took another step, a sound echoed through the clearing—not a roar, not a scream.
A chime.
Single. Sharp. Hollow. Like a war drum being struck by a falling star.
The protector's blade pulsed once in his hand.
And from the sky, even the circling birds scattered.
He didn't have to look.
He didn't need to.
Whatever had arrived…
The battlefield already belonged to it.
◇_ _
The masked protector moved at last—half a step forward, blade raised, body shifting to cover the girl behind him.
His mana flared in kind, controlled and taut, like a bowstring at full draw.
The Grizzlies responded immediately.
The younger Titan lunged—driven by grief more than strategy. Soil exploded beneath its paws, a rush of muscle and fury barreling forward in a blur of blackened fur.
The protector prepared to intercept—
But the figure beside him was already gone.
Not vanished. Just… faster than vision.
A blur of red.
Then impact.
The giant man's fist met the Grizzly's skull mid-charge—coated in shimmering red mana so dense it cracked the air.
There was no roar. No clash of claws.
Just a sound like a bell being struck wrong.
The Grizzly stopped moving.
Completely.
Frozen in place. One paw lifted. One eye wide. The sheer momentum of its charge canceled like a snapped spell.
Then it flew backward.
Not tumbled.
Not tripped.
Flew.
A body that weighed several tons flipped like driftwood, slamming into a crag of blackened trees. Trunks splintered. The crash echoed for seconds.
The protector stared.
The forest seemed to hold its breath again.
But the second Grizzly did not pause.
Older. Meaner. Smarter.
It charged with a bellow of rage, aiming not for the girl or the protector—but the stranger who had struck its mate.
Its paw came down like an execution.
The stranger didn't flinch.
The blow landed clean on his shoulder—hard enough to crush a carriage.
He didn't budge.
Didn't stumble.
Didn't react.
He just smiled—a wide, canine grin that didn't belong on anything human.
Then his hand shot out and drove forward—low, under the ribcage, just past the raised paw.
And punched through.
A wet, horrible crack rang out as the Grizzly staggered.
Blood sprayed.
The beast reared back, howling, a sound that echoed through the Wildes.
It fell onto its side—quivering, broken, still alive but shattered in spirit.
The stranger didn't watch it writhe.
He stepped back, lifted his chin slightly, and said only:
"Down."
The older Grizzly—this titan of nature, this creature of grief and muscle and centuries—didn't rise.
It lowered its head.
Trembling.
Not from fear alone.
From recognition.
From submission.
The protector's breath escaped his lungs like he'd forgotten how to exhale.
He turned slightly, voice low and edged. "You, what are you?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
He turned toward the protector, wiping blood from his knuckles as if brushing away dust.
Then he spoke. Calm. Collected.
"You handled them better than most would."
His voice was deep, gravel split by confidence.
The protector studied him.
"You're a Berserker."
A slow nod.
"And you shouldn't be here."
Another smile.
"And yet," the man said, stepping closer to the light, "here I am."
Now his full form was visible.
Tall. Towering. Skin marked with faded tribal ink, some of it carved directly into flesh. A massive, rune-etched blade rested on his back—still untouched. He hadn't needed it. His hair, bloody red and wildly flowing behind his shoulders, was dotted with beads of bone and fang. His eyes, amber-red, shimmered faintly with mana and something older.
Madness.
But not for flesh.
For challenge.
And his presence spoke louder than any declaration:
He didn't come to save anyone.
He came because something called him.
◇_ _
The clearing was silent now.
Silent in that dangerous way—when all breath, even from the trees, seemed stolen.
The older Grizzly lay still. Chest rising, slowly. Painfully. Not defeated, but halted. Its mate, crumpled in the tree line, made no sound.
The stranger—this beast of a man—turned his back to them both.
Not out of arrogance.
Because he knew they wouldn't rise.
Not again.
He walked toward the girl.
The protector stepped instinctively in his path, shoulders squared.
A pause.
Not conflict.
Recognition.
"I'm not here to finish what they started," the man said, glancing down at the unconscious girl. "She's done enough."
Then, a sideways glance at the bound assassin still breathing—barely.
"That one, though… still breathing too loud."
He didn't wait.
He took two steps forward and released a ripple of mana. No incantation. No spellform. Just a guttural exhale, low and jagged—
[Cry of Madness]
It came like a pressure wave—soundless, but felt.
The assassin's eyes snapped open.
Then rolled back.
He seized, body convulsing against his restraints. Breath caught. Jaw clenched. A soundless scream tore through him—shattered from within.
He collapsed.
Still alive. But broken in a place deeper than bone.
The stranger didn't check his work.
He simply turned toward the trees.
As he did—
◇_ _
The System flickered.
For all three conscious within the field:
> [Linked Quest: "Forest Hunt" — Complete.]
[Status Update: Objectives Resolved.]
[New Status: Recovery Phase — Triggered]
[You Are Tired.]
[System Lock on Active Combat — Lifted.]
◇_ _
The golden-eyed girl stirred.
Just a flutter of her lashes. A faint sound, like a breath remembering its way out.
She didn't wake.
Not fully.
But something in her seemed to calm.
Her aura dimmed gently, no longer volatile.
The stranger looked over his shoulder, gaze narrowing on the protector.
"You going to carry her out of here? Or are we burning roots tonight?"
The protector didn't flinch. "Depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you're staying."
That earned a low, dry chuckle.
"I didn't walk in here to stay," the man said. "But you're wrong if you think this forest's welcoming. The true terrors only come out at night."
He turned toward the north.
His smile faded—just a fraction.
Then came the whisper. Not to them. Maybe not even meant to be heard.
"His blood was retrieved…"
His eyes glinted in the ash-dim light.
"It seems they started moving;And none of you are ready."
He took one final step forward—and then, without hesitation, walked toward Lothar.
The cursed boy, still half-upright. Sweat-clung. Breathing shallow. Watching the giant with something between awe and instinctive dread.
The man stopped.
Studied him.
Then, casually—almost gently—slung him over one shoulder like a satchel.
"Let's go."
His hand used mana to form a rune that he quickly etched on Lothar's stomach pulling him back into unconsciousness.
Turning back towards the masked man he said once again.
"Let's go."
He didn't explain where.
Or why.
Only that it had begun.
◇_ _
Lothar awoke with a gasp, his body drenched in cold sweat. The sharp stench of unwashed bodies and rotting refuse filled his nose, the ever-present scent of the slums. His bed—a pile of tattered cloth and straw—shifted beneath him as he pushed himself upright, his breath coming in ragged gulps. Around him, the narrow alley where he slept was still cloaked in the pre-dawn gloom. Rats skittered between piles of discarded scraps, their tiny claws clicking against the damp cobblestones. In the distance, the city stirred—muffled voices, the clang of distant hammers, the bark of stray dogs fighting over a bone.
Lost, unfamiliar of this new environment. Still groggy, he said:
"So it was a dream."
From beside him, a voice said
" Finally awake boy."