Night didn't settle in Illenwood.
It hovered.
Lanterns burned low, throwing long shadows across the roots and walkways. Doors stayed shut. The town felt watched—not loudly, not urgently—but the way prey knows something is nearby.
Volow stood on a high root near the eastern paths, hands resting loosely at his sides.
Suki sat beside him, tail low, ears rotating slowly. Her pupils were wide, reflecting faint ripples in the air—Veil currents invisible to human eyes.
Marga watched her more than the forest.
"She's sensing something," Marga said quietly.
Volow nodded. "Yeah. Pine trained her with me. She feels Veil better than I do now."
Her head suddenly turned slightly to the right.
Volow followed her gaze.
"…Alright," he murmured. "I see them."
Suki's tail curled tight. She gave a soft sound—not a growl, not a bark. A warning.
Left.
Volow shifted his stance.
Below the root path, a dark shape moved. Then another. Cloaks blended with shadow, feet silent against bark.
Too practiced.
He exhaled once.
"Stay here," he told Marga.
She shook her head. "I'm not—"
"They're not after me," Volow said calmly. "They're hunting people. I'll end it fast."
Before she could argue, he stepped off the root.
He landed behind the first masked figure.
The fight ended before the figure even understood it had begun.
Volow grabbed the back of the cloak and slammed the soldier into the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him. The mask cracked. The body went limp.
Two more reacted instantly.
Veil energy flared around their arms—thin, sharp lines forming into short blades. They moved together, clean and trained.
Volow didn't rush.
He stepped inside the first swing, caught the wrist, and twisted.
The Veil blade shattered like glass.
Before the second could strike, Volow drove his elbow into the soldier's chest and released a burst of Veil at the same time.
It wasn't flashy.
Just pressure.
The soldier flew backward and didn't get back up.
Another presence rushed in from the side.
Suki barked once—sharp.
Behind you.
Volow turned and blocked the strike with his forearm, Veil rippling across his skin. He countered immediately with a straight punch to the mask.
This time, he followed it with a named strike.
" whistling punch"
The Veil surged downward.
The masked soldier slammed into the ground like he'd been dropped from a height.
Still.
Silence returned to the street.
For about three seconds.
More movement.
Suki's ears flicked again. Her body angled toward the western roots.
Volow exhaled through his nose.
"Of course."
He ran.
Near the missing-person board, three more masked figures were already moving. One had a man by the arm, dragging him toward a hollow beneath the roots.
Volow didn't slow.
He kicked the first soldier away from the captive, then spun into the second, sweeping their legs and slamming their head into the wooden board.
Parchments fluttered down like dead leaves.
The third tried to form a longer Veil weapon—something heavier.
Volow interrupted it with another named strike.
"Breaker Punch."
A sharp Veil pulse cut straight through the forming construct.
The weapon collapsed.
So did its owner.
The man stumbled backward, shaking.
Volow caught him and pushed him gently toward the nearest house.
"Inside. Now."
The man didn't argue.
By the time the street settled, bodies lay scattered—alive, unconscious, bound by villagers who had finally found the courage to move.
The masks stared up at the lantern light.
Blank.
Empty.
Wrong.
Dawn came slowly.
Too slowly.
The villagers gathered, whispering, staring at Volow like he'd stepped out of a story they didn't believe in anymore.
Marga joined him near the edge of the square.
Suki sat between them, still tense, eyes fixed on the forest beyond Illenwood.
Volow wiped blood—not his—from his knuckles.
"They weren't from the Underworld," he said quietly.
Marga looked at him. "You're sure?"
He nodded.
She frowned. "Then why are they here?"
Volow stared at the masks.
"…That's the problem."
The villagers gathered closer as the unconscious masked men were tied and dragged away.
An older man spoke first, his voice rough.
"We tried," he said. "When they first came… weeks ago. A few of us picked up tools. Knives. Even axes."
He swallowed.
"They didn't even slow down."
Another voice joined in, shaking.
"They moved like shadows. Broke arms. Dropped people without killing them… like they didn't need to."
A woman clutched her shawl tighter.
"We stopped fighting after that. Anyone who resisted just… disappeared."
Their eyes shifted back to Volow.
One of the younger men let out a breathy laugh, half disbelief, half relief.
"But you…" he said. "You folded them like paper."
A few villagers nodded quickly.
Marga glanced at him.
"They were trained," Volow said.
Silence followed.
Then Taro's father stepped forward, bowing deeply—lower than courtesy demanded.
"If you hadn't been here," he said, "Illenwood would've lost more people. And I would've lost my son."
Suki lifted her head, ears flicking toward the forest again.
Volow noticed.
Something wasn't done.
He looked back at the villagers.
"You did fight," he said. "You survived. That matters."
Some of the fear eased—but not all of it.
And now those things knew Illenwood wasn't helpless anymore.
Volow rested a hand on Suki's head.
The wind moved through the branches.
Far away, someone adjusted their plans.
And Illenwood—warm, quiet Illenwood—had just been marked.