In a secluded, forgotten corner far beyond the towering, fortified limestone walls of Ark Town, where the din of the market's haggling and the rhythmic clanging of knights' armor faded into the whisper of the pines, stood a solitary nomad's tent. It was artfully concealed behind a dense thicket of brambles and thorny vines—shrouded so thoroughly that even the most inquisitive scouts or nosy travelers would pass it by without a second glance.
Inside the tent, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of pine resin and old parchment. Leonika sat atop a mound of hay covered in plush, midnight-black velvet. With practiced grace, she folded her massive, fibrous black wings against her back, tucking them so precisely beneath the folds of her obsidian gown that they vanished from sight. Her long, black-scaled tail, lined with lethal protrusions, coiled peacefully around her feet like a sleeping serpent.
Across from her, Elson was hunched over a small, crackling clay stove. He worked with the minimalist efficiency of a seasoned traveler, utilizing only what the land provided: a few cuts of wild rabbit meat, starchy forest tubers, and a handful of pungent herbs gathered from the roadside. Despite the simplicity of the ingredients, a rich, savory aroma began to fill the small space, cutting through the damp evening air.
"It's ready," Elson said, his voice a low, steady baritone. He extended a wooden bowl filled with a thick, steaming stew toward Leonika.
Leonika's eyes—slit-pupiled and glowing with a faint inner amber—shone with delight. She took the bowl, inhaled the steam, and took a long, appreciative sip before sighing in contentment. "Your cooking is still unrivaled, Elson. It is a world apart from the bland, spiritless offerings those ancient Elven priests used to leave at the altars of Stormberg. They gave me gold and incense; you give me flavor."
Elson offered a ghost of a smile, sitting back to sip his bitter black coffee. As the fire crackled, his mind drifted backward, piercing through the fog of memory to a time six years ago.
At nineteen, Elson had been nothing more than a restless, ambitious youth with a Bronze rank and a reckless streak that often saw him gambling his life for a handful of gold. His mission that day had been a standard culling: hunt a pack of Ogres reported to be harassing trade caravans near a subterranean grotto that few dared to enter.
Elson had ventured deep into the bowels of the earth, but instead of a foul-smelling monster den, he had stumbled into a hidden oasis. It was an ancient temple, forgotten by time, where a crystal-clear waterfall cascaded from a fissure in the ceiling, shimmering like liquid silver under the moonlight that filtered down from above.
Elson's breath hitched as he saw a figure standing beneath the falling water.
A girl stood with her back to him, letting the torrent wash over her. She possessed magnificent, bat-like wings and a tail that looked like a weapon of war, yet despite these monstrous features, her form was ethereal and fragile, her damp clothes clinging to her pale skin.
He stood frozen, captivated by a beauty that felt like a forbidden masterpiece. But his awe was instantly replaced by cold panic. Three massive Ogres, their skin the color of bruised plums, were creeping from the shadows, their eyes fixed on the seemingly distracted girl.
"Look out!" Elson had shouted, his instinct overriding his common sense.
But the girl—Leonika—didn't flinch. She opened her sharp eyes and glanced over her shoulder. Before Elson could even draw his breath, she moved. Her speed was so explosive it seemed to shatter the very surface of the water.
BOOM!
Leonika drove her fist squarely into the lead Ogre's face. The sheer force of the impact drove the beast's head down into its own neck, and its gargantuan body was sent hurtling into the cavern wall, which buckled and cracked under the weight.
She laughed—a wild, bloodthirsty sound that was nonetheless as melodic as a chime. She tore into the second Ogre with a brutal combination of bare-handed strikes, each blow shattering bone and rending thick hide as if it were parchment.
However, the third Ogre, a towering brute even by its kin's standards, swung a massive stone club at Leonika from her blind spot.
TUK!
The sharp, mechanical snap of a crossbow echoed through the grotto. A heavy bolt whistled through the air, piercing the Ogre's forehead just inches before the club could reach her. The beast collapsed like a felled tree.
Leonika paused, the adrenaline still coursing through her. She turned toward Elson, who stood with his crossbow still raised, his hands trembling slightly.
"You... noisy little human," she had hissed, walking toward him while dragging her blood-stained tail through the sand.
Elson hadn't run. Instead, he reached into his pouch and pulled out his meager lunch—a meat bun seasoned with heavy garlic and onions—and held it out to the clearly famished girl. Leonika's ferocity melted the moment she tasted the seasoned meat.
From that day on, their fates were entwined. Leonika chose to wander the world with Elson, becoming his secret "blade" in exchange for gourmet meals and strong opponents to satisfy her primal urge for combat. It was this hidden partnership that allowed Elson to skyrocket through the ranks, becoming the feared and respected Gold-rank legend he was today.
Back in the present, Elson watched Leonika as she licked the last drop of stew from her bowl. That meeting was the turning point that had rewritten the script of his life.
Leonika noticed his gaze. She crawled across the velvet mats and rested her head on his thigh, glancing up with a playful, teasing glint in her eyes. "What are you thinking about, Elson? Are you reliving that moment by the waterfall again? You looked so pathetic back then."
Elson's expression remained stoic, though the tips of his ears turned a subtle shade of pink. As a legendary adventurer, he had to maintain a certain image, even in private. "I was just thinking about how loud you are when you're hungry."
Leonika giggled, coiling her tail gently around Elson's waist. Though they had never exchanged formal vows or titles, their bond had long since surpassed that of mere companions. They were a symphony of opposites—the silent hunter and the chaotic legend—living in a strange, beautiful harmony.
But as the fire dimmed, Elson's face grew somber. He thought of Eins and Lysara.
"The world will not let you be at peace for long, Eins," he mused silently.
He knew all too well that the existence of the Ancient Beastfolk was a magnet for human avarice. There would be kings, dark mages, and shadowy syndicates who would stop at nothing to harness the primordial power flowing through the veins of creatures like Leonika and Lysara. Elson had sworn to protect Leonika with every fiber of his being, and he hoped his student, Eins, truly understood the weight of the burden he had chosen to carry.
"I will not let the dark history of a thousand years ago repeat itself," Elson vowed in the silence of his heart, gently stroking Leonika's hair as she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep on his lap.
To be continued...