This night was bitter, filled with bleak sensations covered by unending mist across the land. A small boat containing a lone figure was all that the river shore held. The stranger steps off his boat, pulling his soaked fur-lined cloak from the water. He lifted his head to the murky sky before moving toward the narrow dirt path. The road was dry with forest as its decoration on left and right. It was calm or silent even an owl wouldn't bother to make a sound. Mysterious or so what the stranger thought. An hour had passed, so far, the way he had been through led him into nothing, until a bush on his left started shaking-voiced something covert beneath the shadow.
Things got so bad that the stranger's guard went up. His right hand, holding a sword grip on his back under the cloak, tighter he held and just he wants to draw the sword, a cat leap come out of the bush, he sighs while his body starts normal again, releasing adrenaline surge inside his body. The tense was great, but he knew how to handle himself well. After this unexpected encounter, his legs would continue the untold journey. Another hour passed and still no sign of settlement or at least a campfire to show that there might still be someone out there, although it was pretty obvious there was no one wandering around in an eerie dusk. It's been a while since he sweeps his way. Still no sign of society. Until he stumbles upon a village.
At last, he mutters, without hesitation, he hastens his movement till the road is solid cobblestones, but the closer he gets, the strange vision he sees. There's a vivid image, like a person's silhouette running in his direction. A man in simple peasant clothing appears in the vision. His face shows fear, panic and confusion-sweating all over his body as if he was being chased by a monster. Body as if he was being chased by a monster.
"Help! Please help me," he begs frantically.
"What happen to you?" the stranger's reply with a low but clear voice.
"A lanak haunted my wife, she's about to give birth to my son and that damned creature tries to take him away from us! Please help us!"
Upon hearing a lanak word, his face frown, he knows really well about this being and what is her purpose over newborn baby. Lanak was a creature that made of misery, once a human woman whose life is full of tragic and turns into a vengeful spirit, hunt down a pregnant woman to take the infant for her loathsome feast.
"Show me the way." The stranger says, his voice low but laced with determination. Both of them running in a hurry to save the mother and the baby's fate.
As the eve turn into midnight they finally arrive at the gate of the village, greeted by its simplicity. The village was in a peaceful time. Many of the houses were falling asleep while some were still awake, shown by a few lights which are still burning. Same thing goes for a lone house in the right corner next to a windmill, but there is something odd about it.
"Please be strong, dear, your husband shall come and if not, I'm surely will cut him into pieces!" an old woman sits beside of the mother, clasping her hand, showing her worry and anger at the same time. The mother only groaning on the bed, clutching her nail deep down the fabric, try to suppress the pain.
"I-it hurt!" her cries clearly heard through the thin air. While a thing, malicious one lurking outside of their house, spinning around while laughing its creepy laugh. The woman knows what it is, a lanak. She immediately grabs scissors, pointing its blade to the air.
"Get away you from my daughter! I'll kill you by myself! Go away and curse forever in hell!" the woman threats the being in furious.
Neither she cares nor she leaves the humble cottage. She keeps spinning like a mad and her laughter becoming louder and unhinged. Fortunately, both of them arrived at the right time. The husband rushed inside the house when the stranger stopped and looking at the lanak who was standing on the roof, staring menacingly at him with her soulless eyes, moreover she smiles, showing her rotten—sharp—bleeding teeth on her extremely white, pale face. In a sudden, she lunges at him with inhuman speed, intent to stab him with her long and sharp nails, but to no avail. She screams, anger as the stranger can evade it. He then throws his cloak at the spirit, giving her surprise element and continue it to strike her using Bloodbound sword. A special weapon which is owned by a vanguard only.
Made by the strongest metal, such as adamantine, coated in silver to repel evil creatures and rune carvings to cut through magic. It hits her exactly at the midriff, giving a satisfying slashing sound. But, since she was a spirit, of course it likely won't kill her but surely weaken it. She growls because of the attack, clearly harmed her. In a flash, she flees to deeper northern forest. For now, the situation may be at peace, but the threat is still freely roaming around. He sheaths his sword back after a brief fight earlier. Just as he is about to enter the building, he hears a baby crying. When the door opened, the situation inside turned into peace. The mother successfully gave birth to a healthy baby, the father crying in joy over his newborn son, the old woman shed tears at the beautiful moment. No one will ever forget such a heartwarming time.
"My son was born! Look, he's handsome" he smiles toward stranger, and a simple nod appears as stranger's reply.
"He is handsome just like you," the mother speaks weakly.
"Thank you, o stranger, how could we repay you?" the father would ask about his gratitude towards him.
"At ease, there is nothing you should do for me" "But I want- "the old woman cut the father's off.
"He's right, at least there is something we could give to you, a money perhaps?"
"No, keep it for your grandson, he needs it…but if you insist, I want a nail and information as exchange."
The old woman confused by the unusual request but, she bring what he wants.
"What is the nail for?" she asks curiously.
"For the lanak."
She was shocked, he cannot be serious hunt down a lanak, even the villagers have tried, and it failed. Nobody really has a guts to do such a thing.
"But why? She was gone already."
"But the threat still exists, I have to make her soul rest. And I believe you know her, no?"
Her head meets his eye. Silently nodded at the question.
"I know her very well. Her name was Delila. She was once beloved because of her kindness yet ironically loved by her clients for her stunning appearance; well, she was a prostitute." She stops at the moment, reminiscing the memories while the person still alive "One day, she was sick, she didn't go to work as usual while her clients waiting, eventually she forced herself but…it didn't go well, in the middle of day she ran to her house, she starts vomiting. I guess she already knew what happened to her…she was pregnant. She said she was happy with her child and promise to rise it. A month has passed and apparently, she quit her job, her clients who have paid her for the services gone mad. So, at night, they planned something horrible. At first, three men get inside her humble house, just like an animal, without remorse they stab a blade into her abdomen then tied a rope on her neck…then…" she starts crying, "then…they bind her body at a stake which was prepared by the other two and one of them was local noble. They burned her, declaring her a witch. No one intervened; some were happy in their ignorance, others mourned her secretly. And now she seeks revenge on us."
The stranger clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as the old woman's story stabbed him with such cruelty he couldn't ignore.
"Thanks for telling it to me." In flat and cold tone, he said.
"If I may ask, what is your name?"
"The name's Garran"
"Are you a knight, perchance?"
"No…I'm a vanguard." The old woman's eyes widening; no wonder why he wants to after the lanak he is a vanguard, as shown on his leather chest armor, a shiny medallion emblazoned on it. An elite warrior whose duty is solely to exterminate any threat to humanity, especially because of Hell's Maw's immense influence.
"I shall take my leave; farewell."
"Farewell, vanguard, may the darkness fall before your sword."
As the family's issue has finished, now Garran continues his walk to the north gate. When outside, Garran stop at his midway, standing still while closing his eye. He opens his eyes, which turn out to be a gleaming emerald green. He just activated his vanguard's ability, the Eye of Truth. An ability where he could see the other side of a world, the Underworld. Once he looks at his surrounding, he sees nothing but crumbled reality of lost, damned and tragic souls gathered—scattered everywhere. All of those eye's glare at him with various reaction, some were happy, angry, and sad.
"He can see us! Hahaha!" a beheaded ghost man teases him.
"Watch where you walk, or you'll end just like us." Words spoken from a hanged man's soul.
"If you dare to touch my domain, I'll kill you!" vile words coming out of an enormous creature in black with bestial visage.
This is surely a pressured test for him. Being surrounded by those who long dead with various personalities is like walking on thin ice one mistake and he shall trap there forever. By the end of the road, he plucks several jasmine flowers. Shortly after following spectral tracks, he arrives at Delilah's grave. It was hidden amidst of the forest where the moonlight illuminates her ghostly figure. She sat on the fractured stone of grave, cradling a handmade doll stitched together with frayed and brittle twine. She fixed her soulless eyes on the toy, yet tears of black ichor flowed down her pale, cracked cheeks.
"Delilah," he emerges from the woods, his tone firm yet gentle, "You've suffered enough. Let this end."
Her hollowed eyes rise to meet his, filled with anguish and rage. "End? What end is there for me? They took my child." Her voice cracks between a wail and a whisper.
"I understand…you were wronged," he says. "But vengeance won't bring any peace. Take this flower and let it guide you to rest."
For a moment, she was hesitating. Her clawed hands reach its stalks, brushed it, smelled its fragrance. And her once twisted face softens. Then Garran moves behind her, pulling out a nail, put it on her crown. His other hand grips the sword's pommel in a single motion; he smites the nail with it, embedding it deep into her skull. She was freeze and her form shuddering. Her scream echoes across the grave but gradually fades into silence. All that remains is the jasmine flower lying on the grave. Garran kneels silently, he mutters a quiet prayer before turning away, leaving the grave as the first rays of dawn falls upon it.