Blue Field, in the Death Valley
They called it Blue Field because of the flowers — delicate things that bloomed across the valley in spring, painting the land in waves of soft blue. But no one really saw them. Not anymore.
The valley was deep inside Death Valley's territory, and what it hid beneath its blossoms in spring was plain to see tonight. Bones. Everywhere. Scattered, half-buried, sun-bleached and broken.
Erik stood under the full moon, waiting.
The wind was dry. Cold. Still.
Midnight was close. The elder wolves howled in the distance, long and low — their way of marking the hour. Erik adjusted his grip on the sword resting across his shoulder.
"It's been a while since I've fought one of these," he muttered. "Already wiped out the Silver Squad of five, huh?"
He scanned the dark field.
Then he felt it — a shift in the air. Heavy. Wrong.
He stepped forward just as it rose into view — the Wraith he'd come to hunt.
It levitated silently, its two long tails twisting behind it like ribbons caught in a breeze. As it floated down to the earth, Erik's eyes narrowed.
Pale white skin. Shining black hair. A red dress that seemed to bleed into the moonlight.
He exhaled slowly.
"I can see how you got the drop on the others," he said under his breath. "You must've been beautiful when you were alive... shame."
His sword hummed as he poured mana into it, the blade glowing faintly. Erik lunged forward, fast and low.
The Wraith's tails whipped toward him — he twisted, deflected both with the flat of his blade. He saw the hand only a heartbeat before it reached his face. He threw himself back, boots sliding across the dusty earth.
The Wraith lifted again, and suddenly, she wasn't alone.
One became three.
Three became five.
Five became seven.
All of them rushed him, silent and floating — shadows with her face.
Erik charged.
A tail lashed at him — he brought his sword down, severed it clean. A second later, he drove his blade through the heart of the nearest phantom. Smoke. Gone.
He spun, slicing the one behind him in half. More smoke.
Copies. Weaker. But good distractions.
His eyes scanned the field, hunting the real one — the one that hadn't attacked yet.
The Wraiths circled around him but didn't attack.
"She's being curious."
Erik narrowed his eyes, scanning their movements. Five left. All identical. No tells, no flaws. Running in blind would be suicide — Wraiths retained the intelligence they had in life.
"Then let's try it out."
Core Activation: Fire Domain — Cage.
The bones, the leaves, even the dried-up flowers burst into flame. Heat swelled in the air, warping the ground around him.
Before the Wraiths could retreat, a blazing wall of fire rose in a sphere around them — and exploded.
The blast echoed across the valley.
Erik exhaled, winded.
"That took more out of me than I thought…"
The smoke thinned. Only one Wraith remained.
"Bet you didn't like that," Erik muttered, stepping forward. "It's a new trick I've been working on."
He charged. The Wraith lunged to meet him, its nails lengthened into clawed blades. They clashed — his sword striking sparks against her claws. She pressed hard, her movements sharp and animalistic.
Erik blocked, countered, ducked under a wide swing toward his ribs — and then he saw it.
A tail, whipping toward him.
"Gotcha!"
He cleaved it clean off. The Wraith shrieked, spinning in pain. Erik stomped down on the second tail, grabbed her by the hair — and sliced through her neck.
The body dropped.
But Erik didn't relax. The moment the head fell, the visions came — burning, immediate, and cruel. A memory.
She had worked in a tavern on the edge of a border town. Long nights, stale beer, wandering hands. But she handled it — until that night.
They came in late. Hunters — drunk, rowdy, entitled.
She told them the place was closing. Told them to leave. Once. Twice. A third time. They laughed. Called her names.
Then they grabbed her.
When she screamed, the bar owner looked up — and walked out the back door without a word.
What followed was torture.
Not just a violation of her body — they beat her when she fought back, tore her nails out when she scratched one of them, snapped fingers for fun, and laughed while she begged. They didn't stop until her body gave out.
In the morning, they wrapped her corpse in a flower-stained tablecloth and dragged it through the woods. Dumped her here, in the Blue Field. The flowers were in bloom.
The memory ended. Erik's fists were clenched so tight his knuckles cracked.
"So you've been here all this time," he said softly, "and only attacked the ones who wronged you."
The Wraith rose again, but didn't move.
"The reason you're still bound to this world… is your daughter. And you can't check on her because you're trapped here."
He sheathed his sword and pulled out a small dagger. Without hesitation, he dragged it across his arm — shallow, but enough.
Blood welled and dripped.
"I swear on my blood — I'll make sure she's safe. That's my promise. In return, I ask for a piece of your cloth."
A blood oath. Until the promise was fulfilled, the wound would not heal — and the farther he strayed from the promise, the more it would bleed. Not something many people does these days.
The Wraith lingered for just a moment, as if looking past Erik, toward something she couldn't reach — then vanished into the night, leaving behind a torn piece of crimson cloth.
Even though she was gone, Erik could feel her — something left behind, bound to him now.
He took the cloth, tucked it into his coat, and turned toward the Adventurers' Guild.