Hans gave a curt nod, then turned on his heel. Shuna fell into step beside him, boots echoing softly against rune-carved stone as Sythera swept in with a troop roster in hand. In the cold lantern glow of the Eternal Dominion's War Room, light flickered off towering pillars etched in sigils of conquest.
"Once we teleport to Baharuth's border and head to Ashkare, Windcliff will be a day's ride south," Sythera explained, tapping the map with the end of her gauntlet. "After you pick up the introduction letter from the guild, the journey is straightforward."
Hans slung a travel pack over one shoulder. His katana's obsidian sheath gleamed against a black cloak. "Excellent. We move at once." He met Shuna's gaze—her jade eyes cool and sharp.
Shuna smiled faintly, then reached out to lock her fingers with his.
Within moments, Hans chanted, "Gate." A spiral of arcane energy twisted midair, carving open a glowing portal. He and Shuna stepped through—Sythera and her scouts following behind. The air wavered, color drained, and as light snapped back into focus, they stood on a windswept ridge overlooking a narrow valley shrouded in fog.
Below lay the Baharuth border town. A scattering of timber houses patched with pale whitewash clung to the hillsides, encircled by a crude palisade bristling with broken spears and claw marks. A lone tower of rough-hewn stone rose in the town center, its arrow slits narrow and unlit. Beyond it, the Silvermere River curved like cold steel under gathering clouds.
Shuna swept her gaze across the valley. "Why did we teleport this far from the city?" she asked quietly.
Hans turned, already tightening his cloak. "This is where we and Sythera part ways. She has another task I've assigned her."
Sythera knelt, armor hissing as it brushed snow. "Thank you, my lord, for seeing me off."
Hans stepped forward and brushed her head softly. "Just make sure you come back." She nodded as Hans and Shuna turned to begin their march toward Ashkare, the heart of Baharuth's frontier—and the location of the Adventurers' Guild where Charon had long since replaced its master.
They arrived in Ashkare just after midmorning, the city bustling under low clouds. Merchant wagons crowded the squares, and the air buzzed with the tension of imperial watchmen. Mud clung to the cobbled roads, dripping into iron gutters as Hans and Shuna strode past the open-air market toward the guild tower.
Inside, Charon, the Eternal Dominion's disguised agent and current guildmaster, sat behind a massive desk carved from grizzled wood. At the sight of Hans and Shuna, his stern face broke into a smile.
"You made it," he said quickly, rising. "Good timing. The Viscountess is getting desperate."
Around them, several workers stood polishing weapons or checking gear. One of them, a younger woman with short silver hair, eyed Hans skeptically. "So these are our reinforcements? Adventurers from Re-Estize?"
Hans glanced at her, gaze like polished obsidian. Something in his expression made her flinch.
"Don't be so smug," she snapped. "I bet you haven't even faced a real pack before."
Charon cleared his throat. "That's enough. You all know the Viscountess has requested help personally." He handed Hans a sealed letter bearing the Baharuth Empire's wax crest. "You'll need this. Travel quickly—Windcliff's getting worse by the night."
Hans took the scroll and smiled faintly. "Don't worry. We'll be there before the monsters notice we've arrived." With that, he and Shuna slipped out into the road once more.
They wove through muddy lanes slick with recent rain, the sky grey and sour as thunder threatened in the distance. They arrived at Windcliff around noon. Villagers peered from shuttered windows, blinking in surprise as nearly fifty workers marched into the town behind Hans and Shuna, their adventurer tags catching the faint light. The workers looked around at the scorched palisades and broken outer walls with unease.
Two tired militia approached—helmets dented, spears loosely held.
"Workers from Ashkare?" one asked, voice hoarse.
Hans offered a polite smile. "Lead us, and we will."
"Right this way," the soldier barked, beckoning toward the central keep.
The streets were narrow, paved in pressed dirt. Hans noted every broken cart, every blood-stained doorway, every hawk-eyed elder watching from within. The state of the town was worse than anticipated.
Inside the keep's hall, the air smelled of wax and steel. Torchlight flickered off old oak beams. At the end of the hall stood Viscountess Eveline Voss, regal in an emerald gown, her silver circlet gleaming. Ledger bones lay stacked before her; the town's remaining guards flanked her in dented armor.
She stepped forward as Hans and Shuna entered. Relief lit her face.
"You've arrived," she said breathlessly. "How pleased I am at your haste. These past nights have been hell."
Hans bowed slightly. "Viscountess, we stand ready to protect your lands. We'll begin by reinforcing your defenses. After that, we hunt down the source."
Shuna opened a satchel and placed several glowing sigils on the table. "Your men look exhausted. But if they hold the wall, these workers can keep watch for stray attackers."
Eveline wrung her hands. "Please, don't act rashly. The beasts—dire wolves, bristleback boars—far fiercer than you may expect. I fear for Windcliff."
Hans turned to Shuna, voice firm. "We know the situation. We're not charging blind. Tonight, we begin the purge. Your militia just needs to hold the gate."
One of the workers scoffed. "Seriously? You're gonna storm into the forest now? You just got here!"
Another muttered, "He's clearly chasing fame. That's the kind of sloppy stunt that gets towns burned to the ground."
Hans didn't flinch. Instead, he pulled out the scroll Charon had given him and offered it to Eveline. "If you doubt us, read this."
She scanned the letter silently. Then nodded. "Very well. They have full clearance."
The workers protested, but Eveline raised her hand. "Enough. The guild vouched for them, and I accepted. Let them do their job."
Hans and Shuna bowed, then left the hall.
Outside, sunset crept over Windcliff. Whispers passed through the town: that the adventurers were heading out. That the monsters would return. That dawn might not come at all.
At the edge of the forest, Hans smirked. "How about a little competition?"
Shuna tilted her head. "Oh? What kind?"
He unsheathed his katana. "Whoever kills the most monsters tonight gets a prize."
She chuckled. "And the prize?"
Hans leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her smile wickedly.
As night fell, they dashed into the forest like twin streaks of light. The trees parted around them, the wind roaring past in silken sheets.
Hans leaps above a tree line, blade spinning—he cleaves through two wolves mid-air before landing with a skidding flourish.
Shuna's runes illuminate her hands as she casts Binding Briar, roots bursting up beneath a charging ogre—immobilized in an instant, her blade flashing in the dark.
Hans races through mist with his katana trailing frost—Frozen Fang Barrage detonates over a nest of bristleback boars, scattering tusks and limbs.
Shuna drops from a ridge like a comet, casting Moonlight Suppression—an explosion of blue light silences every snarl beneath her feet.
One hour of slaughter later. Trees stripped bare. Fangs shattered. Monsters ran, but never far.
At last, starlight shimmered across blood-drenched leaves.
Hans and Shuna strode out from the woods side by side, cloaks torn, armor streaked with monster blood. The gate to Windcliff opened slowly as shocked guards scrambled to their feet, blinking at the carnage clinging to the adventurers.
Viscountess Eveline stood atop the wall, breath held as she saw them walking forward—unbowed, unbroken.
Her eyes widened. She descended, robe fluttering, voice hushed as she whispered, "You… you succeeded?"
Hans looked up at her and offered a wry smile. "We made good on our promise, my lady."
Shuna smirked. "Forest's quiet now."
And with that, the town breathed again.
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