Razor's eyes flickered open in the dead of night, beads of cold sweat clinging to his forehead. The recurring nightmare had haunted him since childhood, a relentless specter from his past. In the dream, he and his mother raced through the haunting forest of Ellem, pursued by an ominous shadow. Desperation etched across her face, his mother hastily concealed him within the hollow of a massive tree. "Don't let them find you, my love," she implored, her voice a whispered plea. "Seek the hunters; they will keep you safe." Then, with the cloak of night as her shroud, she disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the echo of her fading footsteps.
This fragmentary memory of his mother was the last recollection Razor retained. A memory that clung to him like a relentless specter, haunting his dreams night after night. That very night had set him on his current path - within the sanctuary of the Shadow Hunters Lair. They had taken him in, raising him as one of their own. It was these enigmatic hunters who had molded him into the formidable warrior he had become, a debt he could never fully repay. With unwavering resolve, Razor swung his legs over the edge of his bed and rose to his feet.
"Max, I'm heading out," he called out to his comrade as he exited his quarters. Torch in hand, he ventured into the inky depths of the forest, its haunting silence wrapping around him like a shroud.
It was his solemn duty as a shadow hunter to confront the creatures that prowled the nocturnal realms. His fellow hunters were currently engrossed in tracing the origin of the shadow beasts, having located a cave where their quarry had sought refuge. Typically, it took a group of hunters to subdue these elusive and sinister creatures.
Razor was distinguished as a Grade S hunter, the pinnacle of their ranks, each grade corresponding to a hunter's position and armament. Ranging from Grade E to Grade C, hunters wielded fiery bows and arrows, functioning as the support during hunts. Grade B hunters, on the other hand, were the tanks, armed with both shield and burning spear. Grade A and S hunters had the liberty to select their weapon of choice - be it dagger, short sword, or longsword. They were the frontline warriors, supported by archers from the rear. Facing a single shadow beast demanded a considerable number of hunters; the ideal strategy involved tanks encircling both the frontliners and their quarry while archers provided cover from behind.
Upon entering the cave, Razor meticulously placed a bottle filled with a crimson elixir at the entrance and ventured deeper into the subterranean labyrinth. His senses remained on high alert, scanning for any trace of movement. It wasn't long before he detected a lurking shadow, prompting him to draw his blade from its sheath, setting it ablaze with an ominous crimson fire.
His fiery blade seared a circle into the ground, entrapping the elusive shadow creature within. With a sudden eruption of flames, the creature's nightmarish form was unveiled. The beast lunged at Razor, sharp claws seeking his flesh, but he met the assault with resolute defense, blades clashing against the creature's talons.
For a moment, the struggle seemed relentless, but Razor forced the beast to the ground, his keen eyes scanning for an opening. In a swift, calculated move, he evaded the beast's claws and struck its belly with his fiery sword, rending its form and causing it to howl in agony. However, this time, something unprecedented occurred.
As the wounded creature staggered back, its gaze locked with Razor's. The young hunter was overcome by a sharp, searing pain, his consciousness invaded by visions all too familiar. It was the same nightmare that had haunted him for years, but with a profound twist. This time, he and his mother didn't part ways in the depths of the forest. Instead, they walked hand in hand, toward a radiant, ethereal light. His mother smiled warmly, cradling a green vase in her arms.
Intriguingly, Razor recognized the vase, a fragment of his memory that should have been from much later in his life. In a flash, he snapped out of the vision, his normally blue eyes now aglow with an eerie, radiant green. As his gaze locked with the crimson eyes of the shadow beast, a surge of untamed power coursed through him. The creature quivered under his newfound intensity.
Razor lunged at the beast once more, but it thrashed violently, hurling him outside the circle of flames. As the fire dissipated, Razor watched, perplexed yet unafraid. The shadow beast seemed transformed; its crimson eyes now mirrored the same eerie green radiance that coursed through his veins. A powerful gust of wind erupted from the creature, extinguishing the flames. Yet, Razor felt no malevolence emanating from it.
In the aftermath of their confrontation, an unspoken understanding seemed to have arisen between Razor and the enigmatic shadow beast. Razor retrieved the bottle of crimson elixir and vanished into the shadows, and, astonishingly, the beast followed suit.