The morning breeze carried the crisp scent of freshly cut wood, mingling with the earthy aroma of damp soil. Grasses, still damp from the condensed water vapor deposited as the night goes.
All around, the forest teemed with life, small creatures rustling in the underbrush, birds chirping from the treetops, their calls blending into the symphony of nature. Yet, through it all, one sound stood out, a steady, rhythmic thumping that echoed through the trees.
Thump... Thump... Thump...
The sharp ring of metal against wood filled the air as an axe swung down, its blade biting deep into the thick trunk. Splinters burst outward, catching the soft morning light as they scattered like tiny golden shards.
Cracccckkkkkk...
The tree groaned in protest, its core weakening under the relentless strikes. Blow after blow, the young man's strength carved through the stubborn wood, each swing more forceful than the last.
The fibers of the trunk strained, then finally...
CRAAASHHHHH!
With a thunderous roar, the tree gave way, collapsing into the forest floor. A flock of birds took flight in alarm, their wings flapping wildly as startled creatures darted into the undergrowth, vanishing into the safety of the shadows. The ground trembled briefly before settling, leaving behind only the scent of fresh sap and the echoes of its fall.
The young man exhaled deeply, wiping sweat from his brow as he watched the massive trunk settle into its final resting place. His muscles ached, but a satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
"That makes it the tenth one now," he muttered, glancing behind him. A line of felled trees stretched back, their exposed stumps standing like silent markers of his morning's labor.
He had been working since before the sun had risen, and though exhaustion tugged at his limbs, he still had plenty left in him.
But then his thoughts snapped to something far more urgent.
"Shit!" He straightened abruptly, eyes widening. "If I don't get back now, Pops is gonna lose his mind!"
Without another moment's hesitation, he hoisted his axe over his shoulder and took off running, his boots pounding against the soft earth. The lone house, more like a shack, nestled deep in the vast mountain forest was his next destination, and if he didn't hurry, he'd have more than just an aching body to worry about.
...
"Dusk, clean yourself up so we can have breakfast!" the old man called out as soon as he saw the young man sprinting in from the woods.
"Hai!" Dusk shouted back, barely slowing his pace. Instead of using the wide-open entrance, he leaped effortlessly over the wooden fence, landing with a soft thud on the other side.
Dusk Silvers, his name. His hair, an unusual shade of gray despite his youth, clung damply to his forehead. His lean frame might deceive some, but beneath his sweat-soaked tunic, his muscles were tough and well-honed, sculpted through years of relentless labor in the wilderness.
Splash...
"Cold!" he hissed as icy water hit his skin. He shivered but endured it, scrubbing away the sweat and fatigue that clung to him after a morning of chopping wood. The water ran down his arms, carving rivulets through the thin layer of dirt that had settled on him throughout his work.
"How long are you gonna take in there?" the old man's voice barked from inside the shack.
"I'm done, I'm done!" Dusk called back, shaking off excess water. He grabbed a rough towel and dried himself with quick, practiced movements. "That was a good one," he added with a satisfied grin.
He stepped inside the small wooden shack, still ruffling his damp hair with the towel when...
Whoooshhh!
A metal pot shot past his head, missing him by mere inches.
Dusk instinctively ducked, his eyes widening as he turned to follow the pot's trajectory. It hovered in midair, steaming slightly, before slowly righting itself.
"Oi, Pops! You almost hit me!" he protested, staring at the old man, who stood near the hearth, one hand raised lazily.
"Ah, my bad," the old man said, squinting as he steadied the floating pot with a flick of his fingers. "Been a while since I had proper control over it."
Dusk clicked his tongue, watching the pot move on its own. "Man, sorcery really is convenient," he muttered before glancing at his grandfather with a smirk. "Maybe you're just getting too old, Pops. Your control is slipping."
The old man's face twitched.
"Shut it," he grumbled, and with a simple motion of his hand, the hovering pot drifted just above Dusk's head.
Dusk took a cautious step back. "Oi... knock it off, old Pops," he said, eyeing the pot warily.
The old man snorted. "Then sit down already. We're eating."
With a defeated sigh, Dusk plopped down onto the wooden floor, stomach growling. The morning had been long, but at least now, food was finally on the table.
...
After finishing breakfast, Dusk grabbed his axe, running his fingers along its rough, worn edge, a testament to its relentless use. Deep nicks and dulled steel told the story of countless trees felled under his swings, yet the weapon remained sturdy and reliable.
"I'm heading back out. Should be back by noon," he said, adjusting the axe over his shoulder.
He had already taken down ten trees earlier that morning, but his work was far from over. Now, he had to clean them up, strip the branches, and chop the trunks into usable firewood. With winter just around the corner, they couldn't afford to slack off, without enough firewood, the freezing cold would be unforgiving.
The old man looked up from his seat, his eyes sharp despite his age. "Just be careful out there," he warned. "If anything feels off, unnatural, don't be stupid. Just run home. Spawns have been more active lately."
Spawns.
A general term for beasts with crystalline cores embedded in their chests. At first glance, they looked like ordinary animals, but the presence of their core granted them strength far beyond that of any common wild beast. Some could tear through trees like paper, while others moved with unnatural speed and agility.
They were classified into ranks, the higher the rank, the deadlier they were. With the stronger ones capable of easily overwhelming even seasoned hunters.
Dusk scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he smirked. "If a Spawn shows up, I'll beat the living daylights out of it." He flexed his arms with a cocky grin.
The old man narrowed his eyes. "Shut it, boy. I'll knock you flat before you even get the chance to fight one."
Dusk laughed. "Hai, hai. No need to get so aggressive, old Pops," he teased before effortlessly leaping over the fence instead of using the entrance.
"You little...!" The old man started, irritation flashing across his face. But as he watched the young man's back fade into the dense forest, his expression softened. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.