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A Night of Restlessness
The village of Black Hollow had always been quiet after nightfall.
Tonight, however, the silence felt unnatural.
Modred stood at the window of his home, his crimson eyes scanning the treeline in the distance. Something felt wrong.
Behind him, the warmth of the crackling fireplace cast flickering shadows across the wooden walls.
Seraphina, wrapped in a thin blanket, stirred in bed.
"You're still awake."
He turned slightly, watching as she sat up, her red hair cascading down her shoulders like flowing embers.
She tilted her head, a teasing smile forming. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about what the villagers said?"
Modred exhaled. "I don't believe in old stories. But I do believe in patterns. And something is moving out there."
Seraphina studied him for a moment, then sighed and stood up, walking toward him.
Before he could react, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her forehead against his back.
"You're different now, you know?" she whispered.
He frowned. "How so?"
"You think first. You watch over others. Before, you were just a sword. Now, you're… more."
Modred glanced at the bed, where their daughters slept peacefully.
Maybe she was right.
"And you?" he murmured.
Seraphina giggled. "Oh, I'm still the same. Beautiful, smart, and undeniably charming."
Modred shook his head.
"…Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we hunt."
---
The Investigation Begins
The next morning, Modred, Dante, Gregor, and a small scouting unit stood at the edge of the blackened woods.
The trees were unnaturally twisted, their bark scorched and split open, as if something had crawled out from beneath them.
Gregor, the seasoned war general, knelt beside a set of deep claw marks in the dirt.
"Too large to be a wolf. Too precise to be a bear."
Dante exhaled, running his fingers through his now longer, tied-back hair.
"You ever wonder why these things never show up in the damn daylight?"
Modred ignored him. He crouched down, running his fingers over the claw marks.
The air felt heavy. Tainted.
Then—his gaze sharpened.
The claw marks were deep… but the edges were clean. Almost surgical.
Not feral.
Intentional.
"Whatever did this wasn't just hunting." His voice was low. "It was scouting."
Gregor's expression darkened. "Then we're not dealing with beasts. We're dealing with something worse."
Dante grinned, stretching his arms.
"Good. I was getting bored."
Modred didn't share his amusement.
"Stay sharp. We move deeper."
---
A Hunt in the Dark
The deeper they went, the more unnatural the forest became.
Trees were split open like cracked bones.
The earth was scorched in strange, circular patterns.
And the air smelled of iron and rot.
Then—Gregor halted, raising a hand.
The group froze.
The silence was… wrong.
Not the silence of an empty forest.
The silence of something waiting.
Modred's fingers curled around his sword hilt.
And then—a single branch snapped.
It wasn't close.
It was above them.
Dante's eyes narrowed. "…You feel that?"
Before Modred could respond—a shape moved.
Not on the ground.
In the trees.
A blur of shifting flesh, elongated limbs, and glowing violet eyes.
Then—it dropped.
A massive form, twisting mid-air, its long, clawed hands stretching toward them.
Modred moved first.
His blade tore through the air, cutting upward in a single, precise motion.
The creature screeched, its body splitting apart—
But not dying.
The moment it hit the ground, its flesh sewed itself back together.
Dante clicked his tongue. "Great. One of those."
Gregor barked orders. "Hold formation! If it regenerates, we need to—"
Before he could finish—a second creature lunged from the trees.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
The woods came alive with howls.
---
A Battle Against the Unknown
Modred didn't hesitate.
His sword flashed, severing limbs, heads, and torsos, yet the creatures reformed instantly.
Dante fought beside him, golden electricity crackling through his strikes, his longsword moving in violent arcs.
Gregor and his men held the rear, spears and axes clashing against the unnatural flesh of the beasts.
But no matter how many times they cut them down—they wouldn't die.
Dante growled, dodging a claw strike that nearly ripped into his face.
"We can't keep this up forever!"
Modred's mind raced.
Then—he saw it.
The core.
Each time a creature healed, a faint glow pulsed beneath its chest.
He shifted his stance.
Waited.
And then—he struck.
His blade pierced the core of the nearest creature, shattering it like glass.
The monster let out a horrific wail—then collapsed into dust.
Modred's eyes burned.
"Aim for their cores! That's the weak point!"
Dante smirked. "Now you're talking."
One by one, they changed their attacks, striking only where it mattered.
The battle shifted.
The creatures, once overwhelming, began falling.
Until—at last—only silence remained.
Modred stood in the clearing, surrounded by ash and corpses.
His breath was slow, controlled.
The threat wasn't over.
But this?
This was only the beginning.
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