The air smelled of wet earth and ash as Suho adjusted the straps on his leather armor. The sun had just broken past the horizon, a pale amber glow stretching across the adventurers' outpost that lay just outside the city walls of Aramore. Merchants were already awake, shouting their prices to sleepy-eyed adventurers stocking up on potions, dried meat, and sharpened steel.
It had been weeks since Suho first joined the Adventurers' Guild. He was still considered a rookie, his name barely known beyond the copper-rank board, but there was something in him—a quiet drive—that seemed to push him faster than others. He hadn't yet found his place in a party, but today, things felt different.
"Oi, rookie," a calm voice called.
Suho turned and saw Lira, the healer he had met on his first assignment, the one who had patched up his bleeding side when that pack of corrupted wolves nearly tore him apart. She had long auburn hair tied in a neat braid, her white and green robes marking her as a priestess of Aeloria, Goddess of Mercy.
"You're early," she said, giving him a faint smile. "Most rookies drag their feet."
Suho shrugged, trying not to look nervous. "Guess I didn't want to be left behind. You said there was something more serious than goblin nests today?"
Her eyes flickered toward the mission board. The silver-ranked adventurers were pulling down contracts with rewards lined in gold lettering, while copper and iron ranks like Suho had to fight over rat exterminations and bandit cleanup.
But Lira held a parchment sealed with the guild's crest, one that pulsed faintly with magic. "This one was posted last night. A village a day north reported disappearances. Livestock at first. Then children. Scouts came back shaken, said they found strange symbols near the riverbanks."
Suho's chest tightened. "Symbols?"
Lira lowered her voice. "Cult markings. Ones not seen in decades. The guildmaster is taking it seriously, but the higher-ranked parties are stretched thin. They're sending us to investigate first. Just observe and report. Do not engage unless forced."
Suho's hand brushed the hilt of his sword. He wasn't stupid—rookies didn't survive playing hero. But something inside him stirred. It wasn't pride. It was… a whisper, faint but steady, echoing in the back of his mind.
Go. See. Protect.
He didn't understand it, but it filled his chest with heat.
"Alright," he said. "Let's go."
---
The Road to the Village
The dirt road wound through thick woodlands, the early morning fog hugging the ground like ghostly tendrils. Lira walked ahead, staff in hand, while Suho kept close, scanning the tree line.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Lira asked after a while.
Suho scratched his cheek, embarrassed. "Guess I don't have much to say. Not compared to seasoned adventurers."
"Hmm. Or maybe you're just listening. That can be a strength."
He almost smiled at that.
By midday, they reached the village of Darsvale. It was eerily quiet. No children ran through the muddy streets, no merchants called out prices. Instead, people stood with haunted eyes, clutching talismans around their necks. When Suho and Lira approached, the village elder, a hunched man with a weathered face, stepped forward.
"You've come from the Guild?" His voice cracked, filled with both relief and dread.
"Yes," Lira answered. "Tell us everything."
The elder explained how animals vanished at night—cows, goats, even guard dogs. Then, three days ago, two children had gone missing. Tracks led toward the river, but what was found there made the search parties abandon hope: black, tar-like stains on the soil, and strange carvings of spirals and eyes burned into the bark of trees.
"The old stories speak of shadow-worshippers," the elder whispered. "Cultists who once served… her."
Suho leaned forward. "Her?"
The elder's lips tightened. "We do not speak the name. Not here."
Suho's gut twisted. He remembered fragments of old tavern stories, of a forbidden goddess erased from history. Could this be connected?
Lira placed a reassuring hand on the elder's shoulder. "We'll investigate tonight. Keep the villagers indoors after sundown."
---
The Night Watch
The river was wide, moonlight glinting off its restless surface. Suho crouched low behind a fallen log, Lira kneeling beside him as she muttered protective prayers. The forest was silent—too silent. No crickets, no owls, only the rushing water.
Hours passed. Then Suho felt it. A shiver that crawled up his spine, followed by the faintest echo in his mind.
They are coming.
"Lira," he whispered. "Something's—"
The brush parted across the riverbank. Figures cloaked in black stepped out, their faces hidden beneath bone-white masks. They carried torches of green fire, and in their hands gleamed jagged daggers etched with runes.
Suho counted six.
The cultists began chanting, their voices low and guttural. They carved symbols into the earth, the glow of their torches casting warped shadows across the trees.
"Shadow-binding rites," Lira hissed. "If they finish, this whole forest could—"
But before she could finish, one cultist's masked head snapped toward them. "Intruders."
The chanting broke. Torches flared. And the cultists charged.
---
Battle at the River
Suho drew his blade, his breath sharp and fast. The first cultist lunged, dagger gleaming, but Suho parried and shoved him back. Another slashed from the side—Suho ducked, rolling across the dirt, and drove his sword upward through the man's arm.
A scream tore through the night.
Lira raised her staff, chanting. Green light flared, and roots erupted from the ground, tangling two cultists by their legs. They snarled, hacking at the vines.
But the others pressed harder. One's dagger grazed Suho's shoulder, hot pain searing through him. He grit his teeth, swinging wide and forcing the attacker back. Another cultist came from behind—
"Suho!" Lira shouted.
He turned too late. The blade was descending—
And then it happened.
A blinding flash burst from Suho's body. Not fire. Not steel. Light. Pure, radiant, searing light.
It exploded outward in a wave, forming a shimmering barrier around him and Lira. The cultist's dagger struck the barrier with a metallic screech, sparks flying, but the blade could not pierce it.
The cultists stumbled back, shielding their eyes from the glow.
Suho froze, staring at his hands. They glowed faintly, veins of light tracing across his skin. His sword seemed to hum in resonance.
"What… what is this?" he whispered.
Lira's eyes were wide. "Light magic. But that's impossible."
The cultists regrouped, but hesitation rippled through their ranks. One spat curses and fled into the woods. The others followed, vanishing into the shadows.
When silence returned, Suho dropped to his knees, the barrier fading. He panted, heart hammering.
Lira crouched beside him, gripping his arm. "Suho… do you realize what you just did? No one has wielded Light since—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "We need to report this to the guildmaster. Immediately."
But Suho barely heard her. His chest still burned with that same whisper from before. Louder now. Clearer.
Protect. Guide. Rise.
He didn't understand it yet, but he knew one thing: his journey had just begun.
---
End of Chapter 11