The forest was quiet now, save for the faint rustle of leaves disturbed by the aftermath of the battle. The broken trees and scattered debris painted a stark picture of destruction. Rynar stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving with each labored breath. Steam still rose faintly from his skin, curling into the cool spring air like smoke from a dying fire.
Kael approached him cautiously, his boots crunching against the splintered wood. The hunters followed at a distance, their faces a mix of awe and apprehension. Even the most seasoned among them had never seen anything like the sheer devastation left in Rynar's wake.
"You alright?" Kael's voice was low, his tone carefully measured.
Rynar nodded, though his movements were slower than usual. "I'm fine," he said, his voice steady but quieter than usual. He rolled his shoulders, wincing as a sharp ache shot through his back. "Just... tired."
Kael's eyes narrowed, studying his son closely. The subtle glow in Rynar's veins had faded, but the faint steam rising from his skin and the tension in his posture told a different story. "Let's head back," Kael said finally. "The village needs to know the threat's been dealt with."
---
By the time they reached the outskirts of Whisperwood, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dirt paths. Word of the hunters' return had already spread, and a small crowd had gathered in the square.
The villagers' initial expressions of worry turned to relief when they saw Rynar walking at the front of the group, his towering frame unmistakable even from a distance. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as they noticed his slightly hunched posture and the dirt streaked across his tunic.
Mari, the midwife, was among the first to approach. "You're all safe," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "What happened out there?"
Kael stepped forward, raising a hand to calm the crowd. "It's over. The beast is dead."
Gasps and whispers spread like wildfire. Someone in the crowd called out, "What kind of beast was it?"
Aldric, who had been observing quietly from the edge of the gathering, stepped forward. His staff tapped against the cobblestones as he addressed the group. "It was a Bloodfang," he said gravely. "A Tier-4 predator."
The villagers fell silent, the weight of the name sinking in. Even those unfamiliar with the specifics of beast classifications knew enough to understand that a Tier-4 was not something to be taken lightly.
Aldric continued, his tone measured. "Beasts are ranked based on their strength, intelligence, and the threat they pose. A Tier-4 is rare in these parts—dangerous enough to challenge entire groups of hunters. It's a miracle no lives were lost. How was this all possible?"
The villagers exchanged uneasy glances, their murmurs growing louder. One of the younger hunters spoke up, his voice tinged with awe. "It wasn't a miracle. Rynar killed it... on his own."
All eyes turned to Rynar. He shifted uncomfortably under their gazes, the faint ache in his limbs making it hard to stand still.
Kael stepped in, his voice firm but reassuring. "Rynar did what he had to. The beast was a threat to all of us. He stepped up because that's what he does—he protects this village."
The crowd's murmurs softened, replaced by nods of agreement. For the first time, there was no fear in their eyes as they looked at Rynar. Only gratitude.
---
Later that evening, after the crowd had dispersed, Kael found Rynar sitting by the fire outside their home. His son stared into the flames, his green eyes reflecting the flickering light.
"You're hurting," Kael said, sitting beside him.
Rynar shook his head. "I'm fine."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You don't look fine. And I know what I saw out there. That fight took something out of you."
Rynar didn't respond immediately. He flexed his hands, wincing as the faint soreness flared up again. "It's nothing I can't handle."
Kael sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You've got strength that none of us can understand. But you're still human, Rynar. You've got limits."
Rynar's jaw tightened. "I didn't have a choice. If I didn't stop it, people would've died."
"I know," Kael said quietly. "And I'm proud of you for that. But you can't keep pushing yourself like this. One day, it might be too much."
Rynar didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the flames. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken worries.
---
Meanwhile, in Aldric's study, the village chief poured over old scrolls and records. The Bloodfang's red eyes had unsettled him—an anomaly he couldn't ignore. Most Bloodfangs were known for their green eyes, a marker of their natural behavior. Red eyes meant something else entirely—corruption, or perhaps manipulation by an external force.
Aldric's hand trembled slightly as he traced a faded rune on one of the scrolls. The signs were clear: the balance of the forest was shifting. And if a Tier-4 beast could be corrupted, it was only a matter of time before something worse emerged.
He leaned back in his chair, his pale blue eyes staring into the flickering candlelight. "What have we brought upon ourselves?"
---
As the village settled into uneasy quiet, Rynar lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. His body ached, and his mind raced with questions he couldn't answer. What was he becoming? And how much longer could he hide the truth of his strength?
Far beyond Whisperwood, unseen forces began to stir. The death of the Bloodfang was just the first ripple in a growing tide, one that would soon reach even the quietest corners of the world.