Andrew leaned against the damp sewer wall, his arms crossed as he stared at Stallone. The faint trickle of water echoed in the tunnel, but it did little to drown out the unease building inside him.
"Shit," Andrew muttered, breaking the silence. "Now that I think about it, where do we even find this bastard?"
Stallone pulled a worn cloth from his coat, wiping the blood off his sword before sheathing it. "I know someone who can help. A contact in the lower district—works with mercenaries and traders. If anyone's heard about Demitra's whereabouts, it's her."
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You trust her?"
"No, but she likes gold more than loyalty. That's enough."
Andrew clicked his tongue, slinging the crossbow across his back. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
They moved quickly through the twisting alleyways of Pitoa, the smell of smoke and damp stone hanging heavy in the air. The lower district wasn't far, but the narrow streets and flickering lanterns made the city feel claustrophobic.
At last, they reached a run-down tavern tucked between crumbling buildings. Its faded sign swayed in the wind, and drunken laughter spilled out from behind the doors.
Inside, the tavern was dimly lit and hazy, the kind of place that reeked of sweat, ale, and bad decisions. Stallone spotted the contact immediately—a woman with short-cropped hair and sharp eyes sitting alone in the corner, her feet kicked up on the table.
"That's her," Stallone said, nodding toward the table.
Andrew followed close behind, keeping his hand near his crossbow as Stallone approached.
"Lila," Stallone greeted, his voice low.
The woman looked up, her gaze flicking to Andrew before returning to Stallone. "Well, if it isn't the West Coast Knight Guard himself." She smirked. "What brings you to my corner of the city?"
"We're looking for someone," Stallone said bluntly. "Gallagher Demitra."
Lila's smirk faded, her eyes sharpening. "You don't ask about Demitra unless you're prepared to deal with trouble."
"Trouble's already here," Andrew said, cutting in. "Now tell us where he is."
She studied them for a moment, then reached for the pouch Stallone placed on the table. She weighed the coins briefly before slipping the pouch into her jacket.
"Demitra's moved outside the city," Lila said. "He's setting up in the eastern fields near the old watchtower ruins. Rumor is, he's preparing something big."
Andrew's jaw tightened. "Night Crawlers."
Lila shrugged. "If that's true, you're already out of time."
"We'll handle it," Stallone said, turning to leave.
"Wait," Lila called after them. "Be careful out there. If Demitra's pulling the strings, he won't be facing this alone."
Andrew didn't respond. He was already heading for the door.
….
The night air felt colder outside the city walls. The plains stretched endlessly under the moonlight, their shadows dancing with the breeze. Andrew's boots crunched against the dry grass as he trailed behind Stallone, his crossbow loaded and ready.
"We have to stop him before it's too late," Andrew said, his voice low. "If the Night Crawlers are unleashed, we're done."
Stallone didn't look back. "Then we kill him first."
The ruins of the old watchtower loomed in the distance—a jagged silhouette against the night sky. Flickering lights danced near the base of the tower, and faint figures moved around it.
Andrew dropped to one knee, raising the crossbow to scan the area. "I count three guards outside."
Stallone crouched beside him. "There's no time for subtlety. Take out the guards first, then we move in."
Andrew nodded. He steadied his breathing and took aim. The first bolt flew silently, striking the nearest guard in the neck. The man crumpled without a sound.
Before the other guards could react, Stallone charged forward. His blade flashed under the dawn light, cutting through the second guard before he had time to draw his weapon. The last guard turned to flee, but Andrew's second shot brought him down.
"Clear," Andrew said, standing up.
Stallone wiped his blade and motioned toward the watchtower. "Demitra's inside. Be ready."
They crept closer, stepping over the bodies. The entrance was little more than a broken archway, but inside, the light from torches flickered across the cracked walls.
Andrew's heart pounded as they moved deeper into the ruins, his crossbow at the ready. The sound of footsteps echoed ahead, and then—
"Knight Guard."
Demitra's voice rang out, cold and sharp. He stepped into view at the center of the chamber, his figure illuminated by the flames. Behind him, strange symbols glowed on the floor, pulsing with an eerie light.
"You're too late," Demitra said, his lips curling into a sneer. "The Night Crawlers are already here."
"Not if I kill you first," Andrew snapped, raising his crossbow.
Demitra's laugh echoed through the chamber. "Go ahead. Shoot me. But killing me won't stop this."
Andrew hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Demitra to lunge.
"Move!" Stallone shouted, shoving Andrew aside as Demitra's blade sliced through the air.
Andrew hit the ground hard, rolling into a crouch as Stallone engaged Demitra. The clash of steel rang out, sparks flying with every strike.
Andrew steadied his aim, waiting for an opening.
Stallone ducked under a swing, driving his shoulder into Demitra and forcing him back. "Now!"
Andrew squeezed the trigger.
The bolt flew true, piercing Demitra's chest. He staggered, his eyes wide in disbelief before collapsing to the ground.
The symbols on the floor flickered, their glow fading as Demitra's body hit the stone.
Just then everything went dark around Andrew, the darkness swallowed everything around him.
'What the fuck?! What's happening?' Andrew panicked.
Just then a blue screen appeared infront of him.
[You have slained Awakened Human, Gallagher Demitra]
[You have slain your targets]
[You have prevented a Nightmare Creature Raid]
[Wake up, Andrew Harkon! Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for Appraisal]
"Damn… just like that?" he muttered. "That's it?"
The weight of the mission lifted, but an uneasy hollowness replaced it. He'd done everything Stallone told him—followed orders, took the shot—and it all ended in a flash. No drawn-out battle, no last-minute twists. Just Demitra falling over with a bolt through his chest.
'Kinda disappointing…'
The thought soured his stomach, but he shoved it aside. He did what had to be done.
Then, another notification appeared.
[You have received a Memory: Aurora's Haven]
Andrew's lips twitched into a grin. A new memory. Finally, something worth smiling about.
'Not bad', he thought. 'At least this ain't a total letdown.'
But before he could relax, more lines filled the screen.
[Aspirant! Your Trail is over.]
[A Bounty hunter arrived in a bustling city, moving through the shadows and finding allays to help him with his cause to kill the corrupt powers within the city.]
[You have assassinated all of your targets.]
[Your performance is commendable.]
[Final appraisal: Your skills and accuracy are exquisite.]
[Dreamer Andrew Harkon, receive your boon!]
[You have been bestowed a True Name: Wind of the West]
Andrew froze.
"What?"
He coughed, his throat catching as he sucked in air too quickly. "No way—ain't no damn way."
It hit him all at once. That was his old in-game name, back before he git summoned to this world. Back when he spent hours playing with his friends.
Andrew let out a dry laugh. "You're tellin' me the Spell thinks this is some game?"
His fingers twitched, itching for the feel of a controller.
The glow on the screen shifted, interrupting his thoughts.
[Your Aspect is ready to evolve. Evolve Aspect?]
"Sure, why not."
The words slipped out before he could think too hard. He swallowed, only to choke on the saliva he hadn't realized had pooled in his mouth. Another round of coughing hit him as the screen began to glow brighter
[Dormant Huntsman is evolving…]
[New Aspect acquired.]
Aspect: [Dawn Hunter]
Aspect Rank: [Transcendent]
Aspect Description: [You are a predator of the twilight hours, a relentless tracker who thrives in the shifting balance between light and shadow..]
Aspect Ability: [Clairvoyance]
Description: [You can adjust your eyesight whether long or short distances.]
Flaw: [Eternal Fatigue]
Description: [You can stay up at a maximum of half a day. Once they reach their limit, their senses begin to dissipate.]
Andrew staggered as the darkness peeled away, light pouring back into his vision like a flood. His knees hit the stone floor before he caught himself.
"Transcendent?" he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. "The hell kinda rank is that?"
He felt it—the clarity in his vision, the sharpness in his focus—but there was something else too.
The flaw.
"Fatigue…" Andrew exhaled, his jaw tightening. "Figures they'd throw in a catch."
The idea pissed him off, but he pushed it down. He'd dealt with worse—tight schedules, limited supplies, and no sleep during raids. He could handle it.
Still, his fingers flexed, testing the tension in his muscles. The power humming beneath his skin felt almost foreign, like it didn't belong to him yet.
But he'd make it his.
Andrew stood, rolling his shoulders as his confidence returned.
"Wind of the West, huh?" He smirked, the name already feeling familiar. "Guess it's time to live up to it."
'Damn, I sound cringy just know…..'
[Wake up, Wind of the West!]