The mist had never lifted.
Even with morning light creeping over the hills, the fog clung tightly to the village of Trenya—suffocating, cold, and unmoving. The sun was a pale smear behind thick gray clouds, offering no warmth, no clarity. It was the kind of morning where time felt suspended… as if something beneath the earth had paused everything, just to listen.
Kaen stood by the well, cloak drawn tight, eyes sharp and scanning.
Children ran past him, laughing. Chickens clucked. Someone chopped wood nearby. To any outsider, life in Trenya went on as usual.
But Kaen saw what others didn't.
The way the wind avoided the eastern field.
The way dogs refused to bark past a certain line in the mud.
The way Lina—the strange little girl with eyes too wise for her age—was now seated on the porch steps, drawing again in the dirt with a stick.
This time, her lines weren't just random patterns. She drew a circle, then another. A spiral. Then a symbol Kaen hadn't seen in years—an eye with three pupils, surrounded by thorns.
> That symbol… it was on the altar I woke up on.
Kaen crouched beside her, speaking low.
> "Where did you learn that?"
Lina didn't look up. Her voice was calm, almost airy.
> "I dreamed it. The voices said it's a door. But not for us to go through… it's for something to come out."
Kaen didn't reply. The Void within him stirred.
Before he could press further, hurried footsteps approached behind him.
> "Hey! You—Rael!"
Kaen turned slowly. A young man jogged toward him, brown curls tangled, a crude bow slung over his shoulder, his left hand wrapped in cloth stained with dried blood.
> "You're the new guy, right? Some folks saw you sneaking out last night. Got Nira all nervous. Thought you should know… things haven't been right lately."
Kaen's voice was flat. "I don't sleep well."
The young man stepped closer, eyes flicking toward the edge of the village.
> "Something took one of the cattle last night. Didn't leave blood. Just a weird… circle in the mud. No tracks in or out. Just that."
Kaen's posture shifted. Slight. But alert.
> "Show me."
---
The field was at the far edge of Trenya, where trees began to stretch long arms toward the sky and the fog was thickest.
Birds had stopped singing here.
Kaen crouched near the strange imprint in the ground. It wasn't a track so much as a scar. A circular burn in the soil, as if something had landed—or emerged—and then vanished without ever touching the earth.
The air smelled wrong. Not like rot or decay, but of burnt magic, old and heavy.
The young man hovered nearby.
> "You've seen things like this before… haven't you?"
Kaen didn't answer.
> "You're not just some traveler," the man said, his voice lowering. "I've seen death before. Been in raids. Seen men gutted. But your eyes… they don't blink the way normal eyes do."
Kaen slowly rose, brushing his hand against his cloak.
> "Tell the villagers to stay inside tonight. Lock the doors. Avoid the forest."
> "Why?"
Kaen looked into the mist.
> "Because whatever did this… it will come again. And next time, it won't take cattle."
---
Night fell fast.
Too fast.
The fog thickened into a wall of white, and even the bravest of the villagers retreated early. Lanterns flickered weakly through windows. Doors were locked. Curtains drawn.
But fear had already seeped in.
Kaen stood atop the roof of the inn, a shadow among shadows. His cloak fluttered softly in the cold wind. Below, the village was silent—no footsteps, no barking dogs, no laughter. Only the occasional rustle of leaves… and the slow, steady pulse of something crawling closer.
Then—he felt it.
The Void inside him shifted, alert.
From the edge of the forest, something moved. Slow at first. Then faster. A shimmer of smoke and shadow.
Kaen's eyes narrowed.
It emerged from the trees without a sound.
Tall. Humanoid, but wrong. Its limbs were elongated, dripping with dark mist. No skin—just writhing layers of Void-woven flesh. A hood of black fog covered its head, and from within, two golden eyes burned like dying stars.
Kaen's breath fogged the air. His hand lowered to his side.
> "Voidspawn," he whispered.
But not a feral one.
This creature had intent.
It had been sent.
Kaen dropped from the roof. His boots hit the ground without a sound.
The creature stopped.
The two stood across from each other in the mist-filled silence.
> "You're not from this world," Kaen said.
The creature didn't speak. But the Void around it pulsed—challenge, hunger, purpose.
Kaen lifted his hand.
Shadows coiled around his fingers.
> "Good. Neither am I."
The creature lunged, faster than most would see. Its arm elongated into a spear of blackened bone. Kaen ducked, spinning, and conjured a Voidlance—a spear formed of pure shadow and soul energy—then drove it into the creature's ribcage.
It passed through like fog.
The Voidspawn melted around the weapon and reformed behind him.
Kaen pivoted mid-air, conjuring five lances at once, launching them like shooting stars.
Two struck. Three missed.
The creature screamed—no sound, just a pressure wave that cracked the nearby wood fence. A villager's window shattered behind them. The sky rippled.
Kaen's feet slid across the ground.
> This one's stronger than the last… no, smarter.
He dashed forward, hand glowing with Void energy. The creature met him with claws of obsidian. Sparks of dark magic burst between them as they clashed, not with brute strength, but with wills. The Void responded to both… confused by which master to obey.
Kaen gritted his teeth and drove a palm into the creature's chest.
> "You're not a hunter."
> "You're a messenger."
With a roar, he reached inside the creature's swirling core—where the soul fragment resided—and ripped it free.
The Voidspawn collapsed in on itself. Its form convulsed, spasmed… then dissolved like ash in the wind.
Only the soul remained.
A flickering orb of cold, sickly gold.
Kaen stared at it.
Then, with grim resolve, he opened the Reaver Core embedded in his palm.
And consumed it.
The energy surged into him. His veins glowed for a moment, black lightning running beneath his skin. His eyes flickered dark violet. And then, silence returned.
---
Morning came.
But the fog stayed.
At sunrise, the villagers found the circle in the field once again—identical to the night before, but this time, it pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
They said nothing.
They only looked toward the house where Rael Veyron was staying.
And they understood.
He wasn't a traveler.
He wasn't a man.
He was the warning.
The first omen of something greater coming.
And in the woods, far beyond Trenya, others watched.
Not enemies.
Not friends.
But powers.
Forces that once conspired to destroy Kaen Valcarys.
And now—he was back.
And he had begun to hunt.
---