Kellan still remembered the moment they set out—back then, they were full of confidence and resolve.
Eight demon hunters had gathered at a place called Pea Mill. Because Kellan and Denvar were young, they were ordered to clear tables, fetch candles, and gather food and wine. Later, Kellan stood reverently by the table, watching as everyone solemnly swore to the god of Lorne, pledging to drive the Blade Demon, which had crossed into the mortal world, back to hell. The atmosphere was grave and stirring; he felt there was no greater cause than hunting demons.
"I can't take this anymore," Dylan's shout broke Kellan's reverie. "We don't even have chairs—are we supposed to stand while planning?"
"This is the Camping Stone, not a hotel," only Master Frederick's calm words could somewhat rein Dylan in. Dressed in black, practical attire, a long sword slung on his back, his face gaunt, red hair neatly combed back, and beard trimmed with care—he had somehow found the time to keep himself in order despite the harsh conditions, a sharp contrast to the others' disheveled looks.
The six survivors stood before the Camping Stone, each wearing a different expression, heavy with their own thoughts.
Kellan felt a chill. The cold wind whispered through the forest, and he was thinly dressed, without armor, his short tunic stained with mud and bits of grass.
"So Julius is dead." Frederick glanced at the empty spot beside him. "...A real loss." His eyes caught the emerald necklace around Kellan's neck. "Did you take his necklace?"
"Yes," Kellan nodded respectfully to Master Frederick.
"Good. Carry on his spirit." Frederick sighed. "Julius once said something I still remember clearly: 'Be thorough in your actions so others can rely on you.'"
Kellan took the words to heart, feeling the weight of the necklace grow heavier against his throat.
"That makes you the only rookie hunter left in the Upper Lorne region." Frederick's gaze fixed on Kellan with unusual gravity. "You need to understand what that means..."
Kellan felt a shiver of fear, as if a great responsibility was being placed upon him—something important, though he didn't fully grasp it yet.
"I will..." His voice wavered, so he repeated himself with firmer resolve: "I will do my best."
"We all must," Frederick said evenly. "Especially in these dark days. Our kingdom suffers unprecedented turmoil. As you know, the king has long neglected governance, sending only eccentric envoys to oversee the lands. Elves, barbarians, wyverns, ancient threats... all kinds of chaotic evils are spreading fast. The sooner we destroy the Blade Demon, the sooner we return to the civilized world and deal with whatever else may lurk. This is our mission as demon hunters. The gods bear witness."
"We're one step away from failure." To Kellan's surprise, Etienne was the first to speak. Kellan expected the old hunter to observe quietly and wait for the last word.
"You're right. We're in deep trouble, and failure could come at any moment. But does that mean we've lost? Even if our chances are one in ten thousand, we have to fight with everything we've got for that sliver of hope. You don't understand how badly the Hunter's Sanctuary is in debt. If we don't produce results soon, we'll be crushed under it all." Frederick's voice carried an unshakable authority. Kellan envied that kind of confidence — it made words into weapons.
"We've already lost. The demon walks among us." Dalton's pale face twisted with fear as he spoke.
"That's a serious accusation. What do you mean?" Frederick's brow furrowed.
"That one." Dalton pointed a trembling finger at Dylan. "Can't you feel the evil radiating off him?"
Dylan laughed harshly, a cruel sound that cut through the tension. He stepped toward Dalton, dangerous and wild.
Frederick moved fast, blocking him. "Enough. Both of you—stop this nonsense."
Kellan didn't like Dylan either. The man was ruthless and notorious. How Dylan ended up as a hunter was beyond him, but his name was on the roster, and if the sanctuary ever wrote its history, Dylan's deeds — good or bad — would be recorded.
"Is Dylan really a demon?" Kellan asked Etienne quietly.
"Silence." Etienne's lips barely moved, voice barely a whisper.
"Do you believe such nonsense?" Dylan glared at Frederick, eyes burning with rage.
"To be honest, I've received plenty of reports about you. People say you…" Frederick turned to Kellan. "You should leave now."
"Why?" Kellan was shocked. Why would they ask him to leave a hunter's meeting?
"What we're about to discuss is highly classified," Etienne urged. "If you hear things you shouldn't, and fall into the hands of a wizard or demon, they'll torture you for secrets."
Kellan left the circle, feeling the sting of rejection. Did they really not trust him? Didn't see him as one of them yet? Or did they think he was too weak, someone who'd crack under pressure and spill everything?
But he understood. Sometimes ignorance is the best shield.
As he moved away, his mind raced. What were they talking about? The accusations against Dylan? People whispered Dylan's odd habits — hiding by day, prowling at night, even talking to animals — and those shadows made it easy to suspect dark magic.
Thinking about Dylan's sharp, bitter face made Kellan uneasy.
"Humans are beasts driven by desire," Dylan had once said. But could that explain everything? Could selfless sacrifice and noble acts really be just primal urges?
Kellan climbed onto a stone wall. The stones were cracked and melted, scarred by fire. He imagined the wall once stood tall and firm, but now its surface rippled like waves of molten rock, a ruin forged by flames and time.
From the direction of the Camping Stone came the sound of a heated argument, catching Kellan's attention. He saw flickering shadows of the hunters gathered around the stones, their figures pressed close together as they shouted and scolded one another. Some even bumped into each other in anger. Only Etienne stood apart from the chaos, his solitary figure distant and seemingly disdainful of the quarrel.
After a while, Jevnie stepped away from the Camping Stone and walked over to the double-ringed stone wall nearby. She spotted Kellan and gave him a nod.
"New recruit," she greeted.
Kellan jumped down and returned the greeting. "Calling me back?"
"Quite the opposite. I couldn't stand their bickering, so I came out too," she shrugged. "I don't like this kind of nonsense."
"What are they arguing about?" Kellan asked.
"Trivial stuff. Dylan's trying to prove his innocence, but only making himself look worse. Dalton's about to lose it. Frederick wants to get to the bottom of things before making any decisions, and your mentor prefers to stay out of it." Jevnie climbed up and sat on the stone wall.
She was striking—tall and lean, with sharp green eyes and long red hair braided down her back. Her fitted leather armor looked practical for movement. A camping pack was slung over her shoulder, and a slender silver sword hung at her waist.
"Dylan claims that Master Etienne has lost his emotions."
"That's the path we all walk. Every hunter's spell costs us a part of our soul. Do you know why?"
A pang of pessimism crept into Kellan's mind.
"Because besides our souls, we have nothing else."
"Hah." Jevnie gave him a surprised look. "Don't think like that. We still have plenty—our comrades, our gear, our skills. Actually, burning parts of our soul can be a blessing."
"Is it really worth trading our soul for?" Kellan sounded doubtful.
"Absolutely. Demons see the world differently. To them, every living being is just a shell carrying a soul. The stronger the creature, the brighter its soul burns—enough to make them throw everything into hunting it. But if our soul burns dim, we become nearly invisible to a demon's senses."
"So I should use more spells, burn my soul earlier," Kellan said thoughtfully.
"That's a whole other matter. At different stages of life, we have different duties. When you reach middle age like me, or grow old like your master, your path is set. There's nothing left but to hunt demons. At that point, there's no hesitation. Since tomorrow will be no different than today, you live every day like it's your last—dedicating yourself fully to the hunter's cause."
Kellan felt uneasy. Being a demon hunter meant nothing but hunting demons? Was that life really so bleak?
"You see, you don't like that idea, do you? That's the blessing of youth. You're still young, free to chase whatever ideals you want—wealth, power, pleasures of food and flesh. Only after experiencing all the joys the world offers will you understand how precious life is, and why it's worth selling your soul to protect it." Jevnie smiled gently.
"I understand," Kellan said earnestly.
"How many spells do you know now?" Jevnie asked.
"Just Aphen Flame."
"Oh, Aphen Flame… a powerful spell. I respect your master a lot—he inherited that legendary incantation. Now, let me teach you a new spell. It's simple, but important. Not as famous as Aphen Flame, and it doesn't drain your energy as much. Grab a stone and throw it to me."
A new spell! Kellan's heart quickened.
The ruins around the Camping Stone were full of loose rocks. He picked one up and gently tossed it toward the female hunter. She muttered a chant, and the stone seemed to be pushed midair by some invisible force before dropping to the ground.
"There was once a demon who tempted a forest hunter, convincing him to invite the demon into this world. The hunter agreed—but with a condition: the demon had to grant him wisdom." Jevnie motioned for Kellan to throw another rock. The second stone also fell short, affected by her spell. "The demon accepted, gifting the hunter with insight beyond mortal limits. With this boundless wisdom, the hunter learned how to manipulate the very laws of this world. He crafted a mighty spell, sealing that demon inside a secret sanctuary. And foreseeing that demons would keep trying to invade, he founded the Demon Hunters' Order."
"Secret sanctuary?" Kellan had never heard of it.
"It's far away, a place no one knows. The sanctuary holds the most terrifying demons. The first hunters feared future generations might accidentally release that demon by entering the sanctuary."
"But what if no one watches over it, and the demon escapes?"
"Exactly. Just like our own sanctuary—we're all gathered here hunting the Blade Demon, and those locked away demons might try to break free while we're distracted. But there's no choice; a powerful figure offered Frederick a generous deal… if we defeat the Blade Demon." Jevnie shrugged. "Those are just details. Our job is to keep our minds sharp. Now, try casting the spell with the same tone, rhythm, and cadence as me. It commands the flowing air, bending it to a set path—'Phantom Force.'"
The light and shadows in the air flickered faintly. This time Kellan saw it clearly.
He focused, repeating the spell just like Jevnie.
"Phantom Force!"
Kellan scanned his surroundings but saw no obvious reaction. Maybe the spell worked subtly. Controlling the spell's range, duration, and strength precisely would require endless practice. For now, he'd only stirred a small gust of wind somewhere nearby.
"Your turn. I'll toss a rock to you…" Jevnie smiled, ready to practice.
But the noise from the Camping Stone grew louder. Finally, a sharp curse cut through the din, louder than everything else:
"Fuck this! I'm done!"