I can't remember after it. No matter how much I try, no matter how desperately I claw at the edges of my mind, it's just… gone. A blurry past. The faces, the places—they slip through my fingers like grains of sand. Even her face... Lyla.
She was everything to me—the light in my darkest moments, the one person I could never let go of.
The tears came before I could stop them, cold and endless. In my dream, they fell silently, dampening my cheeks. I wiped them away with trembling hands, but they kept coming, as though my heart couldn't stop bleeding through my eyes.
And then, amidst my anguish, I felt it—a warm touch on my head. Soft, gentle, like a mother's hand but with an unmistakable strength behind it. The warmth spread, not just over my skin but into the cold, hollow pit in my heart.
"Lyla?" My voice cracked as I looked up, and there she was. Behind me, her figure so familiar it hurt. She smiled—oh, that smile. It was the one she used to give me when everything felt like it was going to fall apart. Her hand patted my head, just like she always did when she tried to comfort me.
"Don't worry," she said, her voice as soothing as a summer breeze. But there was something else in her tone, something almost... distant.
I tried to reach for her, to tell her not to leave, but then she spoke again, her words shrouded in a strange mystery.
"There is someone in this world who will do anything for you," she had said, her voice laced with both sadness and hope.
"Find him. He'll care for you more than his own life."
Before I could understand, she began to fade, her form melting into the shadows of the dream.
"Wait!" I screamed, but it was useless. She was gone.
I jolted trying to end the dream, my eyes burning with unshed tears. Slowly, I opened them, the blurry haze of sleep giving way to a breathtaking sight. Above me, the night sky stretched infinitely, dotted with countless stars glowing softly like embers in the dark. It was so vast, so beautiful, it almost made me forget the pain in my chest.
The soft crackle of a campfire reached my ears, accompanied by the familiar, earthy smell of fish roasting over a flame. My stomach growled faintly at the scent—it was the same smell that used to waft through the air when my family went camping. My father, he was a great fisherman, always catching the best fish.
I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my leg stopped me. Glancing down, I noticed bandage wrapped tightly around it. Someone had dressed the wound. A wave of uncertain shock surged through me.
The memory flashed in my mind—the dark, vanishing monster with its long, clawed limbs. I could still feel the cold grip around my leg, the way its claws dug in, sharp and unrelenting, until the warmth of my blood soaked the ground beneath me. The fear was suffocating, its hollow, glowing eyes burned into my mind.
I swallowed hard, gripping the sheet beneath me.
It's over. It's gone. I'm still here. But my leg pained as if the creature's grip lingered, a grim reminder of how close I had been to its grasp.
But... Someone saved me.
I took a moment to assess my surroundings. Beneath me was a small, comfortable bed with a warm sheet draped over me. The fabric wasn't luxurious, but its warmth was more than welcome. To my side, I spotted a sword lying within arm's reach.
I glanced down at myself and noticed I was wearing a white sweater, oversized and soft, though it wasn't tied properly. The loose sleeves slipped slightly off my shoulder, and the knot at the hem was clumsily done. It wasn't hard to guess someone had dressed me in it, perhaps in an attempt to keep me warm?
The thought of that pressed down on my heart—someone had tried to help me, but their effort felt awkward, almost hesitant, as if they weren't sure what they were doing. Still, the gesture was... kind.
I couldn't help but think, if something goes wrong, at least I'll have a weapon. But as my fingers brushed its hilt, I realized it was absurdly heavy. I tried to lift it, but my arms protested with every inch.
"How could anyone even fight with something like this?" I muttered under my breath, frustration bubbling up.
Sighing, I glanced toward the campfire. The flames flickered gently, their light illuminating the area around us. Fish were skewered on sticks, sizzling softly over the fire. My stomach churned at the sight, not just with hunger but with memories. I could almost hear my father laughing as he showed Lyla and me how to roast the perfect fish.
And then my eyes shifted further, catching sight of someone sitting near the fire.
He was leaning against a tree, his eyes closed, one hand resting on his head while his legs were crossed in a relaxed posture. A bandage wrapped around his right arm, faintly stained with blood. On his left side lay a book, the faint markings of magic runes visible even from where I sat.
His appearance was striking—his black hair messy and tousled, adding to the air of effortless intensity he carried. His coat, a long, dark overcoat, flowed elegantly past his waist, the intricate embroidery along the hem and cuffs catching the faint light. The heavy fabric, a blend of velvet and wool, draped around him with authority, its high collar turned up slightly to frame his face in a mysterious way.
Beneath the coat, the soft gray tunic he wore contrasted against the sharpness of his coat, simple yet refined. His dark trousers were tailored to fit perfectly, with the faintest gleam of a fine wool blend. Tall, polished boots reached just below his knees, each step echoing power, while the leather belt with a decorative clasp hinted at his noble heritage. The faint glow of magical energy flickered around the edges of his coat, a quiet reminder of the power that lay beneath the surface.
A hunter? I guessed. The thought didn't bring much comfort. Hunters weren't known for their charity. I could still remember the cruel eyes of the ones who had once come to my village, their cold faces devoid of mercy as they took what they wanted, leaving only fear in their wake.
I looked back at the makeshift bed beneath me, then at the food cooking over the fire. My chest tensed with confusion and suspicion.
Why would anyone help me? Why save someone like me?
The question circled endlessly in my mind. I wasn't anyone important. Just a girl lost in the woods, barely able to defend herself. People usually ignored me—or worse. What would make this boy, this stranger, care enough to patch me up and give me warmth?
A grim possibility crossed my mind. Maybe he expects something in return.
I tightened my grip on the sword's hilt and tried to stand. My legs wobbled under my weight, the pain in my bandaged leg flaring up. I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay upright. If he turned out to be a threat, I'd have to run. Not that I'd get far with this leg, I thought bitterly.
As I shifted, the sudden noise startled a flock of birds from the trees nearby. Their wings beat against the night air, their cries echoing into the distance before fading into silence.
The night was cold, a biting breeze sweeping through the open field around me. I hadn't noticed it before, but the forest, with its oppressive darkness and lurking horrors, was far behind us now.
Here, the air felt lighter, though the wind carried a subtle chill that seeped through the sheet covering me. The sky above stretched endlessly, scattered with stars that shimmered like tiny fragments of hope.
The sound of the birds must have woken him because when I looked back, I saw his eyes slowly flutter open—crystal blue and piercing, like the clearest summer sky. They caught the faint glow of the stars, making them seem almost otherworldly. For a moment, I couldn't look away, as if those eyes alone could promise safety.
I froze. Those were the same eyes I had seen before, staring at me amidst the chaos—the eyes of the boy who had saved me from being devoured by the monsters.
I remembered collapsing from exhaustion, my body giving out, only to feel his arms catch me. His hands had gently rested behind my head, offering a strange comfort amidst the pain and fear.
The memory struck me like a lightning bolt, sharp and unrelenting, pulling me back into the haze of that moment. The terror of the monsters, their grotesque forms reaching for me, and the pain in my leg as claws sank into my flesh—it all came flooding back.
But more vivid than anything else was the warmth of his hands, steady and gentle as they cradled my head, pulling me from the brink of despair.
And then, my sister's voice from the dream echoed in my mind, soft yet firm, like a guiding light in the dark.
"There is someone in this world who will do anything for you," she had said. "Find him. He'll care for you more than his own life."
The weight of her words settled over me, filling the emptiness in my chest with a strange, fragile feeling I couldn't name.
Could it be him? This boy with eyes like the summer sky and hands that had shielded me from pain. The thought was absurd, almost laughable—how could someone like him, a stranger, care for me in a way even I struggled to? And yet, the memory of his actions, his quiet strength, made it impossible to dismiss the thought entirely.
Could he be the one for me? I thought to myself.
The sound of the birds scattering had faded, but the tension between us was sharp enough to cut through the cold night air. He rubbed his eyes, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, and looked at me. His expression softened, his shoulders relaxing as if he were relieved.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently, his voice carrying a warmth I wasn't prepared for.
I didn't answer. My grip tightened on the sword, both hands straining under its weight. The blade's tip dragged against the ground; I could barely lift it. Still, I wasn't going to let my guard down.
He raised his hands, palms forward, a gesture of peace.
"Hey, relax. I'm not here to hurt you," he said, his tone almost playful.
"Stay back!" I screamed, my voice trembling despite the defiance in my words.
His eyes widened in surprise, but he took a cautious step back. "Okay, okay!" he said, his hands still raised. Then, clasping them together in an exaggerated gesture, he grinned.
"It's not really nice to interrogate someone you've just met, you know."
"Don't play games with me. I know what you are—a hunter." I scowled.
He tilted his head, looking almost amused. With a dramatic sigh, he laced his hands behind his head and leaned back casually.
"Man, you're cautious, huh? Alright, since you're so curious, the name's Kaiser Everhart." His grin widened. "Now, drop the sword and chill, would you?"
I took a step back, my mind racing. The name didn't ring any bells—nothing about "Kaiser Everhart" seemed familiar. I racked my brain, thinking of every encounter, every whisper about someone who might know me or hunt me. But no, I couldn't place it. I hadn't heard that name from any of the villages, nor from anyone in the distant cities. It was just... a name.
He was just a random hunter. That was all. Another one hunting me, probably for the reward that was surely on my head by now. My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword again, my thoughts clouded with the bitterness of past betrayals. There was nothing to trust in this world, not even the people who wore names like his.
His charisma threw me off. He didn't act like someone trying to hunt me down. Still, I wasn't about to let my guard down.
"Stay where you are," I warned again, my voice firm but laced with unease. His movements were slow, deliberate, as he crouched slightly, his fingers inching toward the ground.
The dim light caught the tension in his frame, every muscle coiled like a predator preparing to strike. My heart raced as I tightened my grip, unsure of what he might do next, but ready to act if necessary.
Kaiser paused and pointed at the fire, his voice light and teasing.
"Relax, I'm just checking on the fish. Don't want them to burn. You don't want to eat burnt fish, do you?"
His words were disarming, but I wasn't convinced.
"Stop fooling around!" I snapped. "Answer my questions!"
Before I could finish, my stomach growled loudly. The smell of roasting fish was intoxicating. My face flushed with embarrassment.
He laughed, a hearty sound that carried genuine humor rather than mockery. As the laughter spilled out, he casually placed a hand behind his back, the gesture hidden slightly behind the flowing fabric of his dark overcoat while he was trying to take it off.
"So, you're hungry, huh? Come on, you've gotta admit—this smells amazing. High-quality fish, cooked to perfection. You're in for a treat."
I glared at him, trying to keep my composure despite the numerous thoughts in my head. I couldn't let him see how shaken I was, but everything inside me screamed for answers.
"What happened with the monster?" I demanded, my voice sharp. The image of that terrifying thing, its speed and its face wouldn't leave my mind. I needed to know what happened—and why it was still on my mind.
Kaiser's smile faded, replaced with something more serious. "That's… a cold memory," he said softly.
"You shouldn't bother trying to recall it the dead. Some things are better left in the past."
I hesitated, the weight of his tone settling over me like ice. "How did you take it out?" I pressed again, my voice firmer than I felt. The image of the monster's terrifying face flashed in my mind, its speed still lingering in my thoughts. "It was dangerous... and so fast. I don't understand how you even survived it."
He raised his hands again, this time in mock surrender. Slowly, he moved closer. "They're called Noctis Grasper," he explained, his voice taking on a darker edge.
"Monsters of the night. They thrive in darkness, moving faster than the eye can follow. Their faces are twisted, almost human, but with mouths that stretch too wide and eyes that glow like embers. They have long, skeletal limbs that can snatch you from the shadows, draining your strength—your will to live—until there's nothing left."
His description sent shivers down my spine. I clenched my fists, my heart racing. I know he's speaking the truth... The memory of those long, clawed hands wrapping around me flashed in my mind.
That's exactly what happened to me. The cold, draining sensation still lingered, like a shadow over me, and I couldn't shake the fear that it might come back.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Once they've caught you, there's no escape. They feed on your fear before they devour you whole."
I swallowed hard, my heart racing.
Then, as if flipping a switch, he straightened up, that playful grin returning to his face. "So, why were you brave enough to fight two of them at the same time? Got some hidden power or something?"
I couldn't help but frown. "I wasn't," I admitted quietly. "They caught me."
He let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his hand to his chest like he'd been struck by an arrow. "Ah, tragic. The mighty warrior falls before the great Noctis Graspers." He paused, glancing at me with mock sympathy. "But hey, at least you didn't go down without a fight, right?"
I stared at him, unamused. "You make it sound like it was easy."
"Well, you know," he shrugged, brushing it off like it was nothing. "I took them out, though. Barely broke a sweat."
"How?" I asked, my suspicion growing. "You made them sound unkillable."
He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, the Noctis Graspers? Pfft. Easy. I just walked up, gave 'em a little wink, and they were like, 'Oh no, we're out of here.' Totally scared of me."
I blinked at him. "Really?"
He burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Nah, not exactly. It was more of a 'stab, dodge, stab again, hope they don't grab you' situation." He waved his hands in exaggerated motions. "You know, the usual. Real finesse."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You make it sound like it's nothing."
He puffed out his chest and put on a dramatic pose. "Well, it's a little more complex than that, but I like to keep it humble. I'm basically the world's greatest monster slayer, after all."
I stared at him for a moment before I let out a reluctant laugh. "Yeah, right."
He winked. "Believe me, it's all in the technique and strategy. You ever seen someone defeat a monster with sheer charisma?" He flashed a grin, and for a moment, the air around us felt lighter.
I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth despite myself. There was something strangely comforting about his carefree attitude. It was as if, for a moment, the danger and darkness that had surrounded me had faded.
He waved a hand dismissively, pulling me back to reality. "Those were higher C-class monsters. Nothing a B or A-rank adventurer couldn't handle." He leaned back, his tone light but full of confidence. "In fact, you could probably take one down with the right strategy and a little bit of luck."
He flashed a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"Though, I wouldn't recommend trying it unless you're planning to make a name for yourself. Trust me, fighting those things head-on isn't as glamorous as it sounds. It's mostly just a lot of running, dodging, and hoping you're not the one getting eaten."
He chuckled, tapping the side of his head as if sharing a secret. "And, you know, being a bit smarter than your average monster doesn't hurt either."
I furrowed my brows, trying to process everything he had just said. "What's an adventurer rank?" I asked, my voice tinged with confusion. His revelation was overwhelming—monsters, ranks, dangerous creatures lurking in the shadows.
My mind was racing, but I couldn't wrap my head around it. "And what does that have to do with me?" I added, still unsure of his intentions.
"You keep talking about things I don't understand. What do you mean by this 'adventurer' stuff?" I shook my head, frustration creeping in. "I don't get you."
He leaned back on the tree, looking more relaxed, as if the weight of the conversation had lightened a little. "Adventurers," he started, his gaze drifting off as if he were recalling his own experiences, "are the ones who go out into the world, taking on quests, hunting monsters, helping those in need... you know, all that 'heroic' stuff. They're the backbone of most kingdoms—though it's not all glory, mind you." He smirked slightly.
"There are six ranks. E is the lowest—rookies, fresh blood, those who have barely made it past their first trial. But honestly, no one weak enough to be an E-rank would be stupid enough to sign up here."
He paused to make sure I was following, then continued.
"Then there's D, where most start. It's the entry-level rank, for those with a bit of skill but not much else. After that, you climb through C, B, and A—the real heavy hitters. Those with natural talent or blessings. Not everyone has that, but the ones who do make it to A are seriously skilled." He leaned forward a little, eyes sharpening.
"And then there's S. The elite of the elite. Only the very best get there, and even then, it's rare. The kind of people who could wipe out a monster horde without breaking a sweat. You'd find more S-rankers in places like Asura or Valerion—kingdoms with resources and the talent to train them. Here in Celestine, it's practically unheard of."
He leaned back again, his tone more casual, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—respect, maybe, for those at the top of this dangerous ladder. "It's a hard life, but if you're good enough, you make your name."
I blinked, trying to process it all. "What's your rank?"
He hesitated, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he let out a short, dry laugh. "Does it really matter?" He waved a hand dismissively, then pointed at the fire. "Your fish is about to burn, by the way. Better eat it before deciding whether to attack me or run."
I turned my attention to the small campfire crackling in front of us. The flames flickered, casting a warm orange glow over the makeshift campsite, the smoke curling up into the darkening sky. The night was settling in, the dense forest surrounding us growing quieter, save for the occasional rustle of leaves.
The scent of charred fish mixed with the earthy smell of pine trees and damp underbrush, a reminder of how far we were from any villages or people.
My stomach growled again, louder this time, making me pause. I sighed, my shoulders slumping. The hunger gnawed at me, a reminder of how little I had eaten in the past few days. Despite the tension that had hung between us earlier, the fire's warmth and the food in front of me offered a rare moment of peace.
With a reluctant groan, I dropped the sword to the side, its hilt still catching the flicker of the firelight. I finally let my guard down, letting myself relax for a moment. The night air was crisp, carrying the distant call of nocturnal creatures, but the fire kept most of the darkness at bay.
The fish sizzled softly as he handed it to me, the heat from the flames mixing with the chill of the night. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now. My eyes drifted back to him, but for a moment, I was too tired to question his intentions. He didn't seem like he'd attack right now—not with the night so still and the fire between us. Still, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that things were far from resolved.
He smiled warmly. "Glad you're finally starting to trust me."
The smell was overwhelming, rich and savory, with a hint of char. My first bite was heaven. It was tender, smoky, and better than anything I'd eaten in years.
Across from me, he dramatically took a bite of the burnt fish, his face contorting in exaggerated despair. "Ugh, so tasteless," he groaned, pressing his hand to his forehead like he'd been struck down by the cruelest fate. His eyes moved to me, as if waiting for my reaction.
The absurdity of it caught me off guard. I couldn't help but laugh. It was small, but it bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, something I hadn't felt in so long—something like… relief. It was the first time in years I'd laughed like that, genuinely, without fear or sorrow weighing me down. It felt almost… freeing.
As I took another bite, savoring the warmth of the fish, he suddenly broke the silence. "Thanks," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with an odd weight.
I looked up, confused, still chewing the bite in my mouth. "For what?"
He met my eyes then, his eyes unusually serious, and for the first time, his usual playful demeanor dropped. His face softened, but there was something in his eyes—something vulnerable. "For saving me. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."
The words hit me like a cold gust of wind, sharp and unexpected. I blinked, the warmth from the fish suddenly feeling distant. "What… what do you mean?"
He looked at me for a long moment, almost as if weighing whether to say more. "It's… a long story," he murmured. "But the short version is… you're the reason I am alive. Without you, I wouldn't have made it."
I stared at him, my heart felt uneasy. His words left me stunned, but they only raised more questions than answers. Who was he, really? Why would he say something like that?
And more importantly, what kind of person was I that he felt he owed me something so… profound?
I tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered, like an itch I couldn't scratch. His gratitude felt genuine, but there was an eerie sense of mystery behind it, like he was hiding something important. Something that I didn't quite understand.
I opened my mouth to ask more, but the weight of his words hung in the air between us, thicker than the night itself.