After parting ways with the monk, Lian walked on in silence. His thoughts churned, heavy with the echo of the man's words.
By the time the sky dimmed and the air turned sharp with nightfall, fatigue weighed on him.
That was when he saw it—light.
A faint glow in the distance, flickering warm against the encroaching dark.
Lian followed it, his steps cautious but hopeful, until he came upon a monastery, its high walls bathed in moonlight.
He paused.
He didn't like asking for help—not from strangers, not from anyone.
But his body ached, and the thought of sleeping on cold stone no longer seemed noble.
At last, he raised his fist and knocked.
The door creaked open.
A young monk and an older woman stood there, their faces lit with soft surprise.
The elder smiled.
"What brings you here, traveler?"
Lian bowed slightly.
"I seek only shelter for the night."
She nodded.
"Of course. All are welcome here. Come in."
The monastery was quiet, the air filled with the faint murmur of prayers.
They gave him a small room and a bed.
"Rest well," the woman said kindly.
And he did, sinking into sleep—until a sound woke him.
A sharp, cutting sound, like steel through air.
Lian rose and moved to the window.
Outside, in the courtyard, a lone figure was training.
His movements were fast, precise—strikes that seemed to slice the night itself.
Curious, Lian stepped outside.
He watched in silence, until the figure turned.
The monk from the road.
He smiled faintly.
"We meet again."
Lian nodded.
"I didn't expect to see you here."
The monk lowered his weapon, his expression calm, almost amused.
"The world is smaller than you think. But perhaps… this meeting is not by chance."
Lian tilted his head.
"What do you mean?"
The monk's eyes deepened, his voice soft but certain.
"Your journey will demand more than the strength of your arm. You'll need clarity, and conviction. Perhaps I was meant to remind you of that."
The words sank into Lian's thoughts like stones into water.
The monk continued.
"You are strong, yes. But the world will put things before you that no blade can cut. Keep your heart open. Learn. Grow. That is how you'll find your truest strength."
Lian said nothing for a long moment, then nodded once.
The monk smiled again—just a little—and turned away, vanishing into the monastery's shadows.
Lian stood there, staring after him.
He understood now.
This journey would not just test his sword.
It would test him.
And he would have to become more than a warrior to see it through.
***
Episode : The Forest City of Cronatia
After leaving the monastery, Lian and Kyren walked the forest path under the pale light of dawn. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of moss and pine. With each step, Lian felt a growing anticipation—this journey wasn't just about battles or enemies. It was about discovery.
"This adventure," Lian said, glancing at the trees swaying overhead, "I hope it's more than fighting. I want to see what's out here… things unlike anything in Elysium. The creatures here—they feel different."
Kyren smiled, the corners of his weathered eyes crinkling.
"Then there's a place you'll want to see. Not far from here lives a people who are neither Elf nor Troll. They call themselves the Cronatia. Visiting their city may teach you something you didn't know you needed to learn."
Lian tilted his head with interest.
"Neither Elf nor Troll? Intriguing. I want to know how they live."
"Follow this forest," Kyren said, "and you'll see their city. They live in harmony with the land. Their way of life might broaden your own."
The deeper they went, the stranger the forest became. Trees grew taller, their branches interlocking overhead to cast a dim green canopy. The air thickened with an unfamiliar stillness—not unfriendly, but different.
Then the city appeared.
Nestled in the forest, it seemed to have grown rather than been built. The gate was carved from massive trunks and stones, decorated with patterns that felt both Trollish in their raw power and Elven in their graceful lines.
Lian stopped, taking it in.
"So this is the city of Cronatia… it feels like it stands between the worlds of Troll and Elf."
Kyren nodded.
"That's exactly who they are. Born of both, but belonging fully to neither."
As they walked closer, the culture revealed itself in layers. Buildings were rough-hewn but elegant, strong as Troll forges yet shaped with the delicate touch of an Elf's hand. But the people—the Cronatians—watched Lian and Kyren with quiet caution. Their gazes weren't hostile, but they carried the weight of wariness, the look of those who had learned to measure outsiders carefully.
One Cronatian stepped forward. His face was calm but tight with mixed emotions—curiosity and guardedness all at once.
"This is the city of Cronatia. Strangers, what brings you here?"
Lian inclined his head politely.
"I am Lian, a traveler from Elysium. I came to see this place and to hear your story."
The Cronatian studied him for a long moment, then nodded once.
"Come. The elder will want to meet you."
They were led through winding paths to the heart of the city. At its center stood a hall grown from living wood, the trunk of an ancient tree hollowed and carved into a place of council.
An elder awaited them there—a Cronatian whose lined face spoke of decades, whose eyes carried a calm gravity.
He looked at Lian, and his voice, low and steady, filled the room.
"We are the Cronatia—neither Troll nor Elf, though born of both. We do not belong to their world, nor they to ours. We have built something of our own."
His words carried both the conflict and the pride of his people. Cronatians bore the strength of Trolls and the refinement of Elves, but neither in its entirety. Instead, they forged an identity that was solely their own.
Lian listened, then replied with measured respect.
"I want to understand you. To live between two peoples, yet belong to neither—it can't be an easy path."
The elder's expression softened, though his voice remained firm.
"No. It is not easy. But it is ours. We were born between two worlds, and so we made a third. That is our burden—and our destiny."
Lian nodded. He could feel their struggle, their longing, and their resolve. Yet beneath the city's calm, something else stirred.
Kyren leaned in, his voice a whisper only Lian could hear.
"Do you feel it? There's something here. Something uneasy."
Lian's hand brushed the hilt of his sword almost unconsciously.
"Yes. The city looks peaceful, but there's something beneath it. Something hidden."
***
Episode : A Warning in the Moonlight
As Lian explored Cronatia's city, he found himself drawn to its strange harmony. Trollish strength was in every beam and stone, Elven grace in every curve and carving. Yet the Cronatians had made it their own.
Still, something unsettled him.
He walked alone down a forest path skirting the city, the moonlight sharp against the leaves. The woods were beautiful—and tense, as if holding its breath.
Then, the silence broke.
A shape moved between the trees.
A wolf emerged—larger than any wolf should be. Its eyes glowed, red and cold, its body radiating something far darker than hunger.
It stared at him.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then the wolf turned and vanished into the shadows.
Lian stepped forward instinctively, but the beast was already gone—its disappearance as sudden as its arrival.
The forest fell silent again, but the unease lingered like a whisper against his skin.
A howl shattered the quiet.
Low, distant, yet sharp enough to crawl under his ribs.
It wasn't a call. It was a warning.
Lian turned back, his instincts telling him to leave the forest.
He returned to the city and began asking questions. But when he spoke of the wolf, the Cronatians fell silent. Some averted their eyes. Others looked at him as though he had spoken a curse aloud.
No one answered.
That evening, at a small inn, he found Kyren waiting.
"Something happened," Kyren said, his sharp eyes reading Lian's face. "What did you see?"
Lian told him. About the wolf. About the howl.
Kyren's expression darkened.
"Then it has begun."
Lian frowned.
"What has begun?"
Kyren spoke the name like a stone dropping into water.
"Fenrius."
Lian felt the word more than he understood it.
"What is Fenrius?"
Kyren shut his eyes for a moment before answering.
"Not wolves. Not men. Something… between. Cursed by the Old Gods. They walk as wolves or as humans, and neither shape is their own. They heal too fast. They fight too hard. And under the moonlight…"
He opened his eyes.
"They are strongest."
Lian's jaw tightened.
"If they're here, this city is in danger."
Kyren nodded grimly.
"Fenrius do not hunt alone. If one prowls the forest, a pack will follow. And when they hunt, they do not stop."
The next day, they went to the elder.
Lian told him everything.
The wolf. The howl. The name.
The elder listened, then shook his head slowly.
"We have lived here a long time. We have Troll blood. We have Elven magic. No beast can threaten us."
Lian felt frustration rise.
"This isn't just a beast. Fenrius are corrupted by an ancient god's curse. They'll heal faster than you can wound them. And when night falls, their strength will double."
But the elder's voice was calm, unshaken.
"We are neither Troll nor Elf, but something new. We have defended this land for generations. Outsiders' help is not the answer."
Lian stepped back, biting down the argument.
Kyren touched his arm.
"They won't listen. Not yet. Their pride runs deep. We wait—for now."
Lian said nothing.
But as he walked out into the dusk, a howl rose in the distance—longer, louder, and closer than before.
And in his heart, he knew: waiting wouldn't be enough.
**
Episode : Blood in the Forest – The Pack Assault of the Fenrius
The forest had grown heavy with shadow, as if dusk itself had decided to settle early. Lian and Kairen moved quietly through the undergrowth alongside a group of Kronatian sentries. Though these warriors knew every path and whisper of the forest, even they were growing uneasy. A strange silence smothered the woods, the air turning cold and thick, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath.
"Something's coming," Lian murmured, his voice low, his hand tightening around the hilt of his greatsword.
The warning proved true an instant later. A slicing sound cut through the stillness—like claws dragging through the air—followed by the unmistakable rush of movement between the trees. The sentries tensed, blades flashing into their hands. Then, from the darkness, pairs of red eyes began to appear.
They weren't wolves.
They were Fenrius—towering wolf-beasts, their bodies hunched and corded with muscle, their jaws lined with teeth that looked like they could bite through steel. One by one, they stepped from the shadows, and in moments, the forest was alive with them.
"Fenrius!" one of the Kronatian sentries shouted, his voice cracking with alarm as he raised his sword.
But the beasts had already moved.
The first wave struck like a storm. Fenrius tore into the sentries with terrifying speed, their claws rending flesh, their teeth sinking deep. Kronatian steel clanged against their hides, but every wound that landed seemed to close as quickly as it opened. Their ferocity was matched only by their precision.
Lian's eyes narrowed as he watched their movement. "This isn't a wild frenzy. They're… coordinating."
The proof came in their voices—or rather, their howls. Not mere cries of rage, but sharp, keening calls that rose and fell with purpose. Each howl was a signal: an order for a flanking maneuver, a warning, an attack cue.
"They're talking to each other," Kairen said grimly. "Every howl is a command."
And as the sound rang out, the beasts obeyed.
The Fenrius shifted, attacking in waves, some pressing forward while others circled wide and closed from behind. The howls rose again, and their movements sharpened—synchronized like soldiers trained for war. The sentries were outmatched. One by one, they fell.
The beasts surged toward Lian and Kairen.
Lian swung his greatsword in a wide, brutal arc, the sheer force blasting the front line of Fenrius off their feet. They hit the ground hard—then rose again, their wounds already knitting. Two more came from behind. Lian spun, the greatsword splitting into twin blades in his hands, catching their claws mid-swipe before they could tear him apart.
"They won't stay down," he hissed, his blades locking with another's claws as sparks screamed into the night.
The Fenrius lunged again, faster this time. Lian's swords flashed, cutting deep, but the creatures kept coming, their regenerative power mocking his strikes.
Enough.
Lian called power to his hands. Light surged into his twin blades, bathing them in a fierce, white glow.
The next swing carved clean through a Fenrius before it could heal. The body fell, unmoving this time.
"That's better," Lian muttered, his voice almost a growl. He snapped his swords back together into a greatsword and braced for the next assault.
Beside him, Kairen moved. His fist crackled with gathered qi, the energy shaping itself into a roaring, flaming lion. With a strike, the spectral beast leapt from his arm, slamming into a Fenrius and dragging it down in fire. Another came from the flank—Kairen twisted, his fist bursting with lightning this time, and his blow paralyzed three beasts in an instant.
But the pack adapted.
Their howls shifted pitch—new signals, new orders. One feint to the left, a sudden strike from the right, and more Fenrius closed in, attacking with a terrifying synergy. For every beast that fell, another took its place.
Lian and Kairen were being pressed.
"Separate, and they'll rip us apart," Lian barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Kairen met his eyes. "Then we move together. Your strike, my finish."
Lian gave a sharp nod.
He fused his swords back into the greatsword, power humming along the blade. When the Fenrius charged, he met them head-on, his strike creating a shockwave that shattered the ground beneath their feet and scattered their formation for a heartbeat.
A heartbeat was all Kairen needed.
"Now!" Lian shouted.
Kairen's body blurred. He stepped into the opening, his leg snapping up in a brutal kick that shattered a Fenrius's ribs. Another beast lunged—his lightning-charged fist caught it under the jaw, snapping its head back with a crack like a thunderclap. Fire followed, a burst of searing heat that turned two more Fenrius into howling silhouettes before they crumpled.
The rhythm changed.
Lian's strikes locked the beasts down; Kairen's blows crushed them before they could rise. The two men moved as if they had fought together for years, their attacks weaving into each other seamlessly. Every swing, every strike, every step was deliberate, coordinated—an unspoken dance of steel and flame.
And slowly, the pack began to break.
The howls faltered.
The Fenrius fell one by one, until at last, the final beast collapsed into the blood-soaked earth.
The forest went silent again.
Lian exhaled, the greatsword's tip lowering as his chest heaved. "Finally… it's over."
Kairen rolled his shoulders, the last sparks of qi fading from his fists. He managed a thin smile. "Over for now. But another pack will come. They won't stop."
They looked over the battlefield. Fenrius bodies lay scattered, but even in death they seemed… restless, as if their very existence defied finality.
Lian tightened the strap of his sword across his back. "The way they moved—so precise, so deliberate—it means there's more. Stronger ones. Smarter ones."
Kairen's gaze swept the dark forest beyond, his eyes narrowing. "This was a spearhead, nothing more. The real threat hasn't shown itself."
Lian nodded grimly. "Then we get ready. Because when we face their true pack…" His hand gripped the greatsword's hilt again. "…we'll need to be stronger than this."
The two men stood in the bloody quiet of the forest, the weight of what lay ahead settling on their shoulders.
Tonight's battle had been a victory—but it had also been a warning.