The Basilisk's corpse still lay in the clearing outside the village gates, its massive body blotting out the early dawn light. Steam rose from its wounds, black blood pooling into the dirt, poisoning the ground around it. Even dead, the monster's presence was suffocating, a reminder of the calamity they had faced.
And at its center stood Aiden.
He wiped his dagger clean against the torn scales, chest heaving, body trembling as if he had just wrestled a storm. His clothes were ragged, streaked with blood—both his own and the beast's. But what caught every eye wasn't the gore or the exhaustion.
It was the glow.
His eyes. His aura. That crimson light that had devoured venom, carved through steel-hard scales, and made a Rank 6 Basilisk fall before him.
The hunters who had fought beside him—the same men who had sparred with him, shared laughter around campfires, and treated him as one of their own—now looked at him as though he were something else entirely.
Something alien.
Something dangerous.
---
The silence was unbearable.
No cheer of victory. No rallying cry. Just whispers.
"That wasn't human."
"His body… it didn't even melt in the poison."
"Elias knew, didn't he?"
Aiden's jaw clenched. His dagger felt heavier than it ever had before. He sheathed it slowly, keeping his eyes down. If he met their stares, he didn't know what he'd see—or worse, what they would see reflected back.
Then Elias stepped forward.
"Enough," the man's voice cut through the whispers, sharp as steel. "The boy saved your lives. Saved this entire village. Without him, we'd all be corpses rotting in the dirt. Remember that before you let fear rot your tongues."
The hunters fell quiet. Some bowed their heads, shame flickering in their eyes. Others only turned away, their expressions tight with unease.
Elias's gaze shifted to Aiden. Not with judgment, not with fear. But with a weight that pressed heavier than both.
"Come. We need to speak."
---
The meeting hall smelled of smoke and damp wood, its torches sputtering weakly in their sconces. Aiden sat alone at the center table, while Elias leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Soon the elders arrived—grey-haired men and women who had lived their entire lives in Blackwood, carrying both the pride and stubbornness of survival. Their eyes flicked immediately to Aiden.
Whispers began before they even sat down.
"…unnatural."
"…a danger."
"…Rank 6, and he cut it down like nothing."
Elias raised a hand. "Quiet. You saw what he did. You saw what he risked. Without him, none of us would be sitting here."
"Without him," one elder snapped, "that thing wouldn't have been drawn here in the first place!"
The words struck like a lash. Aiden stiffened, his fists clenching under the table. He wanted to speak, to defend himself—but his throat locked.
Elias's eyes narrowed. "You think the Basilisk came for him?"
The elder jabbed a finger toward Aiden. "What else could it be? That glow, that hunger in his eyes… You saw it. I saw it. He's not normal. Something in him called that beast. Something in him will call more."
The room murmured in agreement. Some nodded. Others kept silent, but their silence was worse than any accusation.
Aiden finally found his voice. It cracked, but it carried.
"I didn't call it. I fought because no one else could. Because if I didn't, you'd all be dead."
The elder's eyes narrowed, but another voice—soft, hesitant—broke in.
It was Miriam, the healer. "He's right. I watched him. The poison burned him, yet… something burned it away. He shouldn't even be alive. But does that make him a curse? Or a blessing?"
The hall quieted.
Aiden looked at her, startled. It was the first time anyone had spoken for him since the fight ended.
Elias pushed off the wall. "Whatever he is, he's one of us. I've trained him. I've seen his heart. If you fear his power, then train him. Guide him. Don't cast him out and leave him to turn into the very thing you're afraid of."
The words hung heavy in the smoke-filled air.
---
That night, Aiden didn't return home. He stood at the edge of the Basilisk's corpse, staring at the dark forest. The whispers still rang in his ears.
Danger. Curse. Unnatural.
He clenched his dagger, watching the bloodied blade reflect faint crimson in the moonlight. He remembered the moment the hunger had taken over—the intoxicating rush, the way the venom had burned into nothing, the way the monster's flesh had given way beneath his hands.
It terrified him almost as much as it exhilarated him.
He whispered to the night, voice trembling.
"…what am I?"
The forest offered no answer. Only the distant howls of lesser beasts, mourning the fall of their apex.
Behind him, footsteps approached. Elias.
"You'll need to decide that for yourself," the old warrior said quietly. His eyes softened for the first time that day. "But know this: power is neither curse nor blessing. It's only the will behind it that shapes what it becomes."
Aiden didn't answer. His hands shook around the dagger.
The hunger pulsed within him, and for the first time, he wondered if the elders were right.
What if the monster they should fear… wasn't the Basilisk?
But him.
---