One moment — still air. Sun breaking through clouds.
Then — a shift.
Wind.
Darkness.
Rain in sheets — two minutes flat.
And just as the downpour hits its peak —
Arthur *appears*.
No flash. No sound.
Just — *there*.
Kierran jerks back. "What the—?! Arthur?!"
Lucas stares. "He wasn't there a second ago."
Tom steps forward — eyes sharp. "What happened?"
Arthur says nothing.
Rain soaks his coat.
His face — blank.
But his fists?
Clamped tight.
The storm rages.
And with it —
something *changed*.
Kierran: "Where were you?!"
Arthur: "Nowhere. Just… gone."
Lucas: "Who took you?"
Arthur: "No one important."
Tom: "You're lying. Your pulse is off."
Arthur: "Then I'm scared. So what?"
Kierran: "You were *gone* for ten minutes! We thought you were dead!"
Arthur: "Well, I'm not. Can we go now?"
Lucas: "You're different. Your eyes—"
Arthur: "Are tired. Long day."
Tom: "Something happened. Tell us."
Arthur: "Nothing happened. Just… a talk."
Kierran: "About what?"
Arthur: "Things that don't concern you."
Silence.
Rain hammers down.
And Arthur?
Stands still —
while the lies sink in.
Suddenly a low growl cuts through the rain.
Not one voice — two.
From each beast.
Two **Two-Headed Headhounds** emerge — sleek, black-furred, eyes glowing amber.
No snarling.
No charging.
They *circle*.
Smart.
Patient.
Kierran grips his dagger. "These aren't like the others… I can feel it but that's not all ..."
Tom: "They are capable of analysing and thinking , these are called sentinal hounds also known as watch snouts or dualminds in the current continent frostgrave and in the continent of Ashen shroud . Watch their steps."
One hound tilts both heads — as if *studying* Arthur.
Then —
they lunge.
Not at Kierran.
Not at Tom.
At *him*.
Arthur barely dodges —
but the message is clear:
They know.
Or *something* sent them.
A gust.
Then — silence.
The hounds freeze.
Kierran swings — but something *invisible* stops his blade mid-air.
Tom: "Who's there?!"
Alex steps forward — hooded, mask back on. Gold runes gleaming.
He doesn't look at them.
Just raises a hand.
Lucas tries to move — can't.
Kierran grits his teeth — pinned by unseen force.
Tom: "What do you want?!"
Alex: "This doesn't concern you."
Kierran: "Then let us go!"
Alex: "I can't answer that."
Tom: "Who *are* you?!"
Alex: "Someone who's is yet to be born ."
Behind him — the two-headed hounds close in around Arthur.
No attack.
Just… waiting.
And Arthur?
Stands still.
Knowing.
Waiting too.
Arthur doesn't see Alex.
Doesn't hear the others.
All he sees — two hounds.
Closing in.
One from front. One from behind.
He shifts — heart pounding.
No room to dodge.
No time to think.
Then —
**[System Alert: Allies immobilized. Threat level: ???. ]**
Arthur blinks.
*What?*
He almost forgot —
Kierran. Lucas. Tom.
Why didn't he think of them?
But no time.
The hounds *lunge*.
He reacts —
just in time.
But now —
he knows.
Something's *wrong*.
**[Secret Sub-Mission Activated: Lone Wolf]**
**Objective:** Defeat both Dualminds — *without aid*.
**Reward:** Unlock — **Aether Dagger: "Shadebite"**
**Warning:** Allies cannot assist. System-enforced.
Arthur's vision flickers — red text burns in his sight.
*No help?*
He glances — Kierran straining against invisible force.
Tom shouting — sound muffled.
They're trapped.
On purpose.
And now —
it's not just survival.
It's a *test*.
The hounds growl.
He grips his dagger.
One way forward.
Alone.
Arthur feints left — one hound lunges, fangs bared.
He rolls, slices — but the second head snaps down, tearing his sleeve.
Rain slicks the ground.
He slips — barely dodges a crushing bite.
Kierran shouts — but the force holds him.
Tom watches, helpless.
Arthur staggers up — breath ragged.
The hounds circle — not rushing.
*Testing.*
Then — both attack at once.
Jaws from front and back.
Arthur has one move.
One chance.
Rain hammers down — turning rock slick, breath into smoke.
Arthur moves — not with grace, but grit —
dodging by inches, blocking with shaking arms.
One hound slams him — teeth snap near his neck.
He drives his dagger into its shoulder — deep, but not deep enough.
It *roars* — both heads — and throws him.
He crashes hard — ribs scream.
Gasping.
The second hound circles — slow.
It doesn't rush.
It *knows* he's hurt.
He pulls a flare — clicks it.
Red light floods the dark —
the beasts flinch — just a second.
He uses it.
Rolls.
Stands.
Breath ragged.
One lunges — he sidesteps —
drives the dagger up —
into the throat of the first.
It chokes — collapses.
The second attacks —
he barely blocks —
knife and claw lock —
face to face with fangs.
He twists —
kicks its legs —
drops —
and slams the blade sideways —
across its neck.
It falls.
Silence.
Arthur drops to his knees —
blood, rain, and breath —
all that's left. Arthur gasps — hands trembling.
One hound twitches.
The other?
Still.
He stumbles to his feet —
blood dripping from his side.
Not deep. But it burns.
Kierran shouts — still frozen.
Tom watches — eyes sharp.
Lucas? Silent.
Then —
a pulse.
The fallen hounds *dissolve* —
into black mist.
No bodies.
No proof.
Only the flare — still burning red.
And the note —
still in Arthur's pocket.
He doesn't move.
Just breathes.
Alive.
Barely.
**[Sub-Mission Complete: Lone Fang]**
**Reward Unlocked: Aether Weapon — "Shadebite"**
*Shadow-forged dagger. Awakens in darkness.*
A cold weight appears at Arthur's belt —
a sleek, black blade — pulsing faintly.
Then —
**[Job Change Quest: "Edge of the Black"]**
**Time Remaining: 11:47:22**
*Reach Noctra before time ends — or the gate seals forever.*
Arthur's breath catches.
"Eleven… *hours*?"
He thought he had *days*.
Weeks, even.
But this?
This is a death sentence.
Something's wrong.
The System *lied* —
or someone *sped up the clock*.
And now?
He's not just racing to Noctra.
He's racing a *trap*.
Arthur looks down at the dagger.
Then at the horizon.
No rest.
No time.
The clock has started.
Arthur doesn't notice at first —
but the pressure on his ribs… eases.
Lucas steps forward — hands glowing faintly blue.
Aether threads weave through the air —
stitching skin, cooling pain.
Kierran watches — tense.
Tom stays back — eyes on Alex.
Arthur flinches. "Why… are you—?"
Lucas: "You're hurt. And we're not letting you die before the mission ends."
The wound closes — not perfectly.
But enough.
And as the warmth fades —
Arthur realizes:
They're helping.
Even though he didn't ask.
Tom doesn't look at Alex.
But his voice is steel.
"You're not supposed to be here."
Alex, still masked, tilts his head.
"And yet — I am."
Tom: "You're not helping him. You're *using* him."
Alex: "Same thing, in the end."
A pause.
Rain between them.
Tom: "I've seen what you leave behind, *Watcher*.
I won't let you take him too."
Alex smiles — faint.
"You can't stop what's already begun."
And the air?
Thick with history —
and a war not yet spoken. Alex turns — slow — voice low.
"Tell me, old man…
What do you *think* the War of Gods and Devils was about?"
Tom doesn't flinch.
"Power. Control. The right to shape the world."
Alex chuckles — dark.
"Wrong.
It was about *choice*."
He steps closer.
"One side said: *'Let them fall.'*
The other: *'Let them rise.'*
But both lied."
A beat.
"The truth?
They fought — over who gets to *decide*…
whether Arthur lives — or becomes a weapon even way before he was born ." Alex's voice drops — like the world itself is listening.
"They saw it — in the cracks of time.
A boy… standing over their ruins.
*Arthur.*"
He turns to Tom.
"The Gods? They tremble at his future.
The Devils? They want to *wear* his skin.
Because when he awakens fully —
he won't just fight them.
He'll *erase* them."
A pause.
"And the Watchers?
They're being *whispered to* —
by both sides.
'Join us — or be destroyed with the rest.'"
Alex's eyes gleam.
"That's why they fear him.
Not because he's strong.
Because he's *unpredictable.*
And power like that…
should belong to no one."
(Meanwhile back at the forest)
Sunny stirs the pot — steam rising in the dim cabin.
Blood still stains his sleeve.
His eyes — calm, but sharp.
He speaks to the silence:
"They found me.
*He* sent them."
A beat.
"I can feel it — the pull.
He's coming."
He lifts the spoon.
Tastes.
"Not yet.
I'm not strong enough.
And he…
isn't ready to die."
He sets the spoon down.
"So I wait.
Heal.
Plan."
And in the firelight —
his shadow stretches long.
Like a blade unsheathed.