Silence came too late.
It was not the kind of silence that soothed the nerves, but the kind that felt misplaced—awkward and heavy, as if the world itself was uncertain whether it was allowed to breathe again. The evening wind drifted slowly across the ruined field, carrying the scent of damp soil mixed with blood.
There were no cheers.
No sighs of relief.
Only what remained.
Standing in the middle of the devastated farm, I finally allowed myself to truly look.
The broken fence lay scattered across the ground. Crops had been torn from the earth by their roots, the soil carved open by claws and gouged by desperate footsteps. Dark stains soaked into the ground, already beginning to dry under the fading light.
This was not a nightmare.
This was not a price someone else had paid for us.
This was ours.
In the distance, the bodies of the Nightbound Beasts lay motionless across the field. They did not twitch. They did not breathe. They no longer posed any threat.
And yet safety did not arrive with their deaths.
Johan stood nearby with his spear planted firmly into the ground beside him. Blood streaked along his arm as he wiped it away with the back of his sleeve. His breathing remained heavy from the battle, but his posture was still steady as he surveyed the destruction around us.
"This wasn't a normal attack," he said quietly.
"Nightbound Beasts usually hunt in groups," Johan continued, his voice low. "But they're creatures of the night. Seeing them here at dawn… that isn't natural."
He glanced toward Sylva.
"If this had been coincidence," he added grimly, "I'd already be dead."
Sylva was crouched near the edge of the field, studying the ground with quiet focus. Her fingers traced the dirt carefully, following a smaller drag mark that crossed over the larger beast tracks—subtle, deliberate, and clearly out of place.
After a moment, she rose slowly to her feet.
"Not coincidence," she said.
Her voice was calm, but something beneath it had sharpened.
"This was a reaction."
"A reaction to anger."
Johan frowned.
"Anger? Over what?"
Sylva turned her head slightly, her gaze sweeping across the distant forest line.
"I don't know," she admitted.
There was a brief pause before she added quietly,
"But I have a bad feeling about this."
—
"Brother Vein," Rosa said softly as she tugged at my sleeve, "I saw something earlier… near the coop."
I knelt down so I was at her height.
"What did you see?"
She hesitated before pointing toward the side of the chicken enclosure.
"Small footprints," she whispered. "Not from the chickens."
My gaze followed the direction of her finger.
Behind us, the ruined field stretched beneath the evening sky. The silent forest loomed in the distance. And near the coop, faint smaller tracks cut through the mud, leading toward a cluster of bushes beside the broken fence.
A quiet unease settled in my chest as I stepped closer.
The ground around the coop was damp and churned up. Straw lay scattered everywhere—some flattened into the mud, others torn apart as if something had struggled there.
Then something shifted beneath the pile.
I held my breath and moved the straw aside.
A chicken lay there, trembling weakly. Its breathing was shallow and uneven, but it was still alive.
"Just a chicken…" I murmured in relief.
And then something lunged at me.
"—Uwah!"
Pain exploded across my arm as tiny jaws clamped down with surprising force.
"S-it hurts—!"
A sharp gust of wind sliced through the air.
Before I could even react, Sylva appeared beside me. She grabbed the small creature by the scruff and flung it to the ground. The body rolled once across the dirt before scrambling upright again, releasing a thin, trembling snarl that sounded more frightened than threatening.
I clutched my arm, wincing.
Sylva stepped in front of me.
"Stay still," she said curtly.
She took hold of my wrist, and a soft green light shimmered between her fingers. The warmth spread gently through my arm, dulling the pain before sealing the small puncture wounds. When the light faded, only a faint red mark remained.
"Thank you…" I murmured quietly.
Sylva didn't respond.
Her gaze remained fixed on the creature.
Only then did I truly see it.
A Nightbound Beast—
but a small one.
Far too small.
Its body was thin and fragile, dark skin stretched tightly over brittle bones. Sparse patches of coarse fur clung unevenly along its back, and its red eyes were wide—not with bloodlust, but with fear.
"…So this is the cause," Sylva said quietly.
Johan and Elna approached from behind.
"Oh… it's kind of cu—" Elna began, instinctively crouching down and reaching out toward it.
The creature snapped its jaws at her fingers.
"Eek!" Elna jerked her hand back immediately. "Okay, not cute!"
Rosa, however, stepped forward without hesitation.
"I want to touch it," she said innocently.
"No," Elna said quickly as she pulled Rosa back. "Don't get close."
Johan rubbed the back of his neck, frowning thoughtfully.
"But why is there a Nightbound Beast cub here?" he asked.
"Maybe it got lost?" I suggested weakly.
Sylva shook her head.
"Impossible."
"Nightbound Beasts stay with their pack," she explained calmly. "They don't abandon their young."
Silence settled over us.
"Then…" Johan swallowed. "Why is it in our farm?"
Sylva slowly lifted her gaze.
"Because someone put it here," she said coldly.
My chest tightened.
I looked back at the small creature again—cornered, trembling, and snarling weakly in fear inside what was supposed to be a safe place.
The attack this morning hadn't been random.
This had been deliberate.
Human.
And whoever had done this knew exactly how to make the wound hurt the most.
—
The Nightbound Beast cub suddenly turned and ran, but instead of fleeing back toward the field, it dashed straight toward the farmhouse.
"Hey—!" Elna shouted instinctively.
Rosa reacted even faster. Without hesitation, she sprinted after the creature.
"Don't go in there!" I shouted, but it was too late. Rosa had already rushed forward, chasing the cub without a second thought.
"Elna!" I called sharply.
Elna immediately followed her. Her expression was tense, and her steps were quick but controlled. Within seconds, both of them disappeared through the farmhouse door.
Sylva, Johan, and I remained outside.
Silence fell over the yard.
It was brief, but heavy.
Sylva's gaze never left the house as she spoke quietly.
"Tell me," she said, "who would hold a grudge against this farm?"
Johan remained silent for a moment before answering.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I've lived here for nearly half a century. If someone hated me… something would've happened long ago."
Sylva slowly turned her eyes toward me.
"Then perhaps," she said calmly, "the grudge isn't against Johan."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"Perhaps it's against you."
"Huh?" I stiffened. "Me? I've barely been here a month."
"Exactly," Sylva replied.
"What have you done since arriving?"
I searched my memory.
"I've worked the fields… gone to the market… helped at Elna's stall…"
My voice faltered as a faint memory flickered through my mind.
The crowded marketplace. A careless step. My foot landing on someone's tail - a half-dog,half-human beastfolk. A shout. A brief and chaotic chase. And me running blindly before hiding behind Elna's stall.
At the time, it had felt trivial. Just a small misunderstanding. Nothing more.
Yet another memory suddenly surfaced.
Velmorth.
For a brief moment, his name echoed inside my head, cold and unwelcome.
My chest tightened.
No.
That was impossible.
I had seen it with my own eyes.
Velmorth's body had been split cleanly in two.
There had been no chance of survival. No miracle. No trick that could save someone from a wound like that.
Someone cut apart like that couldn't return.
Slowly, I shook my head.
No.
That couldn't be it.
Velmorth was already dead.
"Seems you've forgotten something," Sylva said quietly.
I lowered my gaze.
My right arm still bore the faint mark left by the cub's bite.
And my left hand was still wrapped in bandages.
The memory returned clearly.
Blood on stone.
The thug.
The fight.
Slowly, the pieces came together.
"...I know," I murmured.
Sylva narrowed her eyes.
"So you've realized it."
"Yes."
Johan looked between the two of us, confusion written clearly across his face.
"What are you two talking abou—"
"AAAAAH!"
Elna's scream suddenly tore through the air from inside the farmhouse.
My body froze for a split second.
Then all three of us ran.
Straight toward the house.
And for reasons I couldn't explain, a terrible feeling settled in my chest.
Whatever waited inside wasn't just a mystery anymore.
It was consequence.
—
We burst into the farmhouse.
"Elna!"
She was lying on the floor.
Blood streamed down the side of her temple, staining strands of her hair a dark red. Her eyes were open, but her breathing came in short, uneven gasps.
I dropped to my knees beside her.
"Elna—are you okay?" I asked, panic breaking through my voice despite my effort to remain calm.
She coughed weakly.
"Ro… Rosa…" she whispered faintly.
"She… was taken…"
Her trembling hand lifted slightly and pointed toward the back door.
It hung wide open, the curtains swaying gently as if something had just passed through moments earlier.
My chest tightened violently.
A powerful gust of wind tore through the room.
Sylva had already launched herself outside, lifted by spiraling currents of air. Johan followed immediately after her, his heavy footsteps shaking the wooden floor as he charged out the back door.
They ran.
Chasing Rosa.
I stood instinctively and took a step forward.
Then I stopped.
I turned back toward Elna.
She was still here.
Bleeding.
Vulnerable.
My fists tightened.
Slowly, I shook my head.
I'm not the hero who rushes ahead blindly.
Not anymore.
I knelt beside her again and carefully lifted her shoulders, easing her back against the wall.
"Stay with me," I said firmly. "I'll treat you first."
I hurried to the cabinet and pulled out the simple medical supplies stored inside. My hands moved quickly as I wiped away the blood, pressed cloth against the wound, and wrapped bandages around her head as carefully as I could.
Elna winced slightly but didn't complain.
"Thank you, Vein," she murmured softly.
I tied the final knot and tightened it gently.
"This is what I can do," I replied honestly. "I want to be useful… even if I'm weak."
Elna gave a faint smile.
"You are weak," she said bluntly.
My chest sank.
"But not right now."
She took my hand and looked at me — not with pity, but with certainty.
"We're not weak."
I stared at her.
For the first time, I truly understood.
Strength wasn't always about chasing danger.
Sometimes it meant staying.
Choosing.
Knowing where you were needed most.
I nodded.
"Yeah."
We stood together.
Then we ran toward the back door, following the others.
Not as heroes.
But as people who had finally understood where they were meant to stand.
And this time—
I chose it.
—
Sylva tore through the forest like a blade forged from wind.
Trees blurred past her in streaks of green and shadow as branches snapped behind her. Leaves spiraled violently into the air as the force of her magic tore through the undergrowth.
The forest did not part willingly.
It was forced open.
Her breathing had begun to grow uneven.
"...Damn."
The word slipped out under her breath.
Her mana was thinning.
The battle at the farm had drained far more of her strength than she had been willing to admit.
Ahead of her, a man sprinted between the trees with a large sack slung over his shoulder. His boots crushed roots and dead leaves beneath them as he ran.
There was no finesse in his movements.
Only desperation.
"Stop!" Sylva shouted.
The man glanced back once.
Only once.
And the look in his eyes held no panic.
Only calculation.
Then he ran faster.
Sylva pushed herself harder. Wind gathered beneath her feet, propelling her forward in bursts of speed.
Five meters.
Three.
Two.
Their footsteps thundered across the forest floor.
Then the man suddenly reached into his coat and pulled out a small glass vial. The dim forest light glinted off its surface as he bit the cork free and swallowed the contents.
A hiss escaped his lips.
His body lurched forward unnaturally as muscles tightened beneath his skin. Veins bulged across his neck and arms.
His speed nearly doubled.
Sylva's eyes widened.
"A speed potion?!"
She forced the last of her remaining mana outward, sending another explosive burst of wind behind her.
But exhaustion had already begun to take hold.
Her body felt heavier.
Slower.
The deeper they ran into the forest, the darker it became. Shadows thickened beneath the canopy as the remaining light faded away.
I can't run out of mana here.
Not now.
Suddenly, Sylva lifted her hand.
The ground ahead of the fleeing man trembled.
Once.
Twice.
Then the earth erupted upward in a jagged wall of soil.
"UGH—!"
The man crashed into it and was thrown backward by the impact. The sack slipped from his shoulder and rolled across the forest floor before coming to a stop.
Sylva landed lightly beside it.
Without hesitation, she ran straight toward the sack.
"Rosa—"
Her fingers tore at the rope binding it shut. The knot snapped loose and the fabric fell open.
She froze.
Inside the sack—
was not Rosa.
It was the Nightbound Beast cub.
Small.
Thin.
Trembling.
Its red eyes stared up at her in confusion.
Sylva's body went rigid as cold realization flooded through her.
"...Damn it."
It was a trap.
The realization struck Sylva a fraction too late.
A heavy shadow rushed out from behind the trees.
Before she could react—
BAM.
A massive fist slammed straight into her side.
The impact was violent.
Sylva's body was thrown through the air like a rag doll. Wind scattered wildly as her control over the spell shattered. She crashed hard into a nearby tree—
CRASH.
The trunk splintered from the force of the impact.
Wood cracked and exploded outward as the tree snapped in half, fragments scattering across the forest floor.
Sylva dropped to one knee amid the broken bark, her breath knocked from her lungs.
For a moment the world spun.
Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth.
"…gh…"
She forced herself to lift her head.
Her fingers tightened around her staff as she tried to stand again. Mana flickered weakly around her, struggling to gather.
But she was too slow.
The man stepped out from the shadows.
Large.
Broad.
His silhouette blocked what little light filtered through the trees.
Before Sylva could fully rise—
WHAM.
His fist came down like a hammer.
The punch crashed into the side of her head.
White exploded across her vision.
Pain detonated through her skull as the world lurched violently. Sound collapsed into a distant ringing roar.
Her balance vanished instantly.
Her body swayed once—
then collapsed.
Her staff slipped from her fingers.
The last flicker of mana faded.
And then—
her consciousness slipped away.
Silence returned to the forest.
Leaves drifted slowly down around the broken tree.
And somewhere in the shadows—
someone was smiling.