Kaer melted into the shadows of the Neemist Forest, his dark suit blending seamlessly with the shifting gloom.
It wasn't just clothing—it was light armor, flexible and silent. At his waist, the twin knives shimmered faintly, their color shifting in restless hues, as if reacting to something unseen.
For three days and three nights, Kaer tracked the forest.
Every broken branch. Every footprint. Every unnatural silence.
All of it led to one thing—
The Wendigo.
Neemist was chaos made real. Twisted trees. Unstable ground. A place where a single misstep could mean death—especially for those who didn't understand the forest's moods.
But Kaer had learned.
Adapted.
Survived.
The Wendigo was no ordinary creature. A corrupted spirit turned into something monstrous. A living curse.
Its hunger for human flesh was said to be endless.
Unstoppable.
The forest was its domain—a hunting ground where nothing escaped for long.
Even its name carried weight.
A forbidden word.
A whisper that invited misfortune.
Most avoided Neemist entirely.
Even during daylight.
---
A scream tore through the forest.
High. Distant.
Wrong.
Kaer froze.
Then he felt it—
Something massive… approaching.
The Wendigo stepped into view.
Its fur was pitch black, swallowing light. Its towering frame was crowned with antlers that clawed toward the sky. Its teeth—long, jagged—caught what little light remained.
Kaer moved slowly.
Controlled.
An arrow slid into place.
He inhaled.
The beast stopped.
It had sensed him.
Its massive head turned—locking onto his position.
Silence.
Then—
Kaer released.
The arrow struck its throat.
A perfect shot.
It should have killed it.
It didn't.
The Wendigo kept moving.
Fast.
Too fast for something that size.
As it closed the distance, its full form became clear—
A wolf's head.
A body far larger, more muscular than any natural creature.
Something between man and beast.
Wrong in every way.
Kaer fired again.
The second arrow drove into its chest.
A tremor ran through the creature—but it didn't fall.
Instead—
It roared.
And charged.
The distance vanished.
Kaer drew a third arrow, time tightening around him, every heartbeat counting down the monster's approach.
Too close.
No margin.
He made a choice.
He summoned.
Three ancestral wolves burst into existence, their forms tearing through the air like echoes from another world.
They hit the Wendigo from the side.
The beast staggered.
Just enough.
Kaer aimed.
No hesitation.
The arrow flew—
And pierced the creature's skull.
The impact slammed it into the ground.
Hard.
Violent.
Final.
The wolves didn't stop.
They ensured it would never rise again.
---
Silence returned.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
Kaer stepped forward, breathing steady, controlled.
With precise movements, he cut the creature's claws—symbols of its power—and placed them carefully into his pack.
Then he turned toward the cave.
---
The entrance breathed cold air.
Damp. Sour.
Alive in the worst way.
Kaer stepped inside.
The tunnels twisted, narrowing and widening without pattern, guiding him deeper into darkness until—
Light.
A chamber.
Two torches burned along the walls.
Bones covered the floor—fragments of something long forgotten.
At the center stood a crude stone table, surrounded by skulls arranged with unsettling intent.
Not random.
Deliberate.
A ritual place.
To the side—a locked enclosure.
Kaer approached.
Inside—
Salvianna.
And two men.
Alive.
Barely.
He broke the lock.
"Why are you crying?" Kaer asked, his voice low but steady.
Salvianna rushed forward and embraced him.
"Because I'm alive," she whispered.
---
By the time they reached Castlecrest, night had already fallen.
The city stood between the Neemist Forest and the enigmatic Bristeel Hills—a fortress of stone and ambition.
More than a castle.
A center of trade.
A gathering place for adventurers, merchants, and those chasing something more.
Its tall towers and fortified walls promised safety—
Or at least the illusion of it.
Kaer escorted Salvianna to her home—a small, quiet building tucked away from the main streets.
"Do you have somewhere to stay?" she asked, her voice softer now. "You can remain here… if you want. I live alone."
A faint blush crossed her face.
"I owe you everything."
Kaer shook his head.
"Rest," he said. "You need it."
She hesitated.
"Then… come back tomorrow," she said quietly. "Please."
"I will."
---
On his way to the Blue Dragon Inn, Kaer passed a shop dealing in rare artifacts.
The merchant inside watched him closely.
Too closely.
Kaer stepped in.
Without a word, he placed the Wendigo claws on the counter.
The man's expression changed instantly.
He leaned forward, lifting one claw, inspecting it with sharp, hungry eyes.
"You killed this?" he asked.
A pause.
"I'll give you one thousand gold coins. Now."
Kaer said nothing.
He slowly gathered the claws and turned toward the door.
"Three thousand."
Kaer stopped.
---
Later, the weight of gold rested in his pack.
---
The Blue Dragon Inn stood tall, built from dark wood, decorated with intricate carvings.
Inside, banners hung from the walls.
And above the hearth—
Dragon claws.
Displayed proudly.
A name made into myth.
Kaer sat among adventurers, listening to exaggerated tales while drinking cup after cup of wine.
He asked about Aspera.
Again.
And again.
No one had seen her.
Not even a rumor.
Not even a trace.
---
With every story, every drink, every glance toward the city's notice board—covered in contracts, dangers, and rewards—
Kaer understood something.
This was only the beginning.
---
In his room, before sleep claimed him, Kaer opened *The Chronicles of the Hero*.
A page that had once been blank—
was no longer empty.
Words had appeared.
A necromancer.
Hiding in a cave near a remote village.
The sole bearer of an item—
The Black Circle Bracelet.
From it could be extracted something rare.
Legendary.
*Fallen Starlight Dust.*
A dark essence.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
Only one being was said to master its extraction—
The great blacksmith…
Huzdurwan.