Erik moved steadily along the southern edge of the lake, his eyes scanning the dense forest. Traces of the Karken's mana clung to everything—trees, rocks, even the soil beneath his boots. It was thick and erratic, making it difficult to pinpoint a trail.
He climbed up a tree to get a better view. The canopy offered a wider angle of the surroundings, but there was nothing worth noting—no movement, no signs of struggle. Just more forest.
Then he turned his gaze eastward—and stopped.
Far in the distance, dark clouds brewed on the horizon. Flashes of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the low growl of thunder. The storm was coming. Fast.
That's going to complicate things, Erik thought, watching the clouds roll closer.
He climbed down and resumed his search, boots silent against the damp underbrush.
Then he froze.
Voices.
"I'm pretty sure it's a werewolf," said a man—young, from the sound of it. "Or maybe a mutated ghoul."
"No way," another chimed in. "A werewolf couldn't kill that many boars that fast. This is something else."
Then came an older voice. Firm. Annoyed. "Shut up, both of you. Focus on your surroundings. Whatever it is, we're killing it today."
Erik crouched low and moved in quietly, weaving through the undergrowth until he had a clear line of sight.
A guild team. Seven of them, maybe Eight. From their gear and the way they moved, he guessed they were silver-rank. Competent enough for basic monster contracts, but this? This was different.
He studied their mana flow. It was everywhere—uncontrolled, noisy. The Karken would sense them long before they saw it coming. If they stayed on this path, it was only a matter of time before the thing showed up.
Erik stood still, debating.
He could warn them. Tell them what they were really up against. But even if he did, they wouldn't be able to fix their mana control on the spot. That took training—time they didn't have. And if the Karken engaged them, it would be a slaughter.
But if he let them keep going, followed them from the shadows, the monster would come. He'd find it for sure.
At a cost.
Erik's jaw tensed. He made his decision. Quietly, he began shadowing the group from a distance.
It didn't take long.
That aura returned—the stench of corrupted mana, thick and rancid in the air. Erik's gut tightened.
It was here.
The Karken.
It came crashing through the trees like a landslide—snapping trunks, tearing branches, flattening everything in its path.
The Karken.
Erik watched from the shadows, unmoving. Its grotesque body twisted and shifted with every stride, limbs flailing out of sync like a stitched-together mass of corpses. The mana rolling off it reeked—putrid, thick, and suffocating.
"What the fuck is that?!" one of the hunters shouted.
"Prepare to attack!" the old man barked, pulling a hammer from his back.
They didn't stand a chance.
The Karken didn't slow down. It barrelled into them, jaws open wide. One archer barely managed to turn before the creature sank its teeth into him and slammed him into the earth. Blood exploded across the dirt. Limbs flew.
Another hunter screamed as the monster grabbed him—then silence. His head was gone.
Arrows thudded into its hide, but the Karken didn't even flinch. It charged toward the old man, who didn't retreat. Instead, he ran straight at the thing, hammer raised.
Erik narrowed his eyes, tracking the movement.
The old man ducked a wide swipe, slid under the beast's bulk, and smashed its right leg, then the next. The creature stumbled. Crashed to the ground. Its head hit the dirt, stunned.
The old man brought his hammer down hard—once, cracking the side of its skull.
He pulled back for a second swing.
Too slow.
The Karken's arm shot out, wrapped around his legs, and hurled him into a tree. The impact echoed. The man dropped like a broken doll.
Erik moved.
He drew his blade silently, stepping from cover with practiced speed.
He'd been watching its movements—where the mana pulsed strongest, where it gathered in short bursts. Two spots. Two hearts. Maybe more, but he'd take the risk.
The monster had just thrown the old man. It was distracted.
Erik lunged.
The forest floor blurred underfoot. He closed the gap in seconds, drove his sword forward, low and precise—between the first and second leg on its right side.
Steel bit through flesh. Through sinew. Then—resistance. A deep, pulsing core. Not bone. Not muscle.
A heart.
The Karken screamed—a shrill, broken howl that made Erik's ears ring. He didn't flinch.
Erik knew he'd found it.
Erik gripped his sword with his left hand. With practiced ease, he used his teeth to pull the Ember ring off his right hand, then tucked it between his lips. Without hesitation, he plunged his right hand into the wound he'd made in the Karken's side, using the blade to guide him deeper.
His fingers found it.
The heart pulsed against his palm—heavy, twisted, hot with dark mana. Just as he gripped it, the Karken turned and swung at him. Erik ripped his blade free and brought it up just in time to block the blow. The impact jarred his arm, but he held steady.
Then he yanked.
With a guttural pull, Erik tore the heart out. It's heavier than Erik expected yet Erik gripped it firmly.
The Karken howled—a scream that tore through the trees. Its body twisted toward him, its eyes burning red with fury. It lunged, but Erik was already moving, pouring mana into his right hand. Flames burst from his palm, engulfing the heart.
The Karken shrieked again. Its aura changed—no longer wild, no longer confused.
Pure hatred.
It snapped. Slashing wildly, it charged at Erik with maddened strength. Erik dodged the first few swings, ducking and weaving through the creature's flurry. Then came a heavier blow—faster than the rest. He raised his blade to block, but the strike sent him flying through the air.
He hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up in a crouch. His gaze snapped back to the monster.
The Karken let out another scream—this one deeper, raw. It spun and grabbed the nearest hunter by the torso, swinging him like a weapon. The limp body slammed into another hunter with a sickening crack, then flew through the air—straight at Erik.
He caught him instinctively. The man gasped in pain. Erik looked down.
His guts were spilling out.
"Help… me…"
Erik said nothing. He laid the man down and stood, turning toward where the old man had landed. He took the ring from his mouth and slipped it into his pocket, Erik feels sharp pain through the ribs, he ignores it, then ran toward were Oldman fell.
The old man was trying to stand, using his hammer as support. Blood streamed from his nose. Erik reached him, helped him up, wiped the blood from his face, and turned his head toward the trees.
"Run that way. Don't look back."
The old man looked past Erik—looked toward the massacre still happening behind them.
"You can't save them," Erik said firmly.
The man's shoulders slumped. But he turned, lowered his head, and ran.
Erik spun back toward the fight. The remaining hunters were still alive, shouting, trying to draw the Karken away—but it was focused, enraged.
He didn't have much time.
Erik created another mana marble in his left hand, like the one he'd given Elsa. He ran. Hard. Straight toward the Karken.
This time, the monster saw him coming. It roared and charged.
The last three hunters followed it, maybe thinking they could help.
Erik slid under the beast's body, dirt and leaves spraying behind him. He grabbed the second leg on the right side, swung himself around, and jammed the mana marble into the half-healed wound he'd made earlier.
Then he jumped back, slipped the Ember ring on, and ran.
The Karken tore one of the hunters in half without slowing down. Erik didn't look back.
He put the ring back on. With the ring suppressing his mana signature, the creature wouldn't be able to track him through the forest.
He sprinted until the sound of slaughter was far behind.
---
The rain had finally caught up.
It poured through the trees, soaking everything in seconds. Erik moved quickly, following faint trails through the mud. His hands were still stained with blood.
It didn't take long.
He found the old man slumped behind a tree, his head bowed, shoulders trembling.
"How did you find me?" the man asked, not looking up.
Erik raised his hand, palm open—the old man's blood still fresh on it.
"I just followed your trail."
The old man gave a dry laugh. "So you can find someone just from a bit of blood? You're not a normal hunter, are you?"
Erik offered his hand. "Come on. I've got a few friends waiting in a cave nearby."
The rain soaked them both as the old man stared at the ground.
"I'm a disgrace," he muttered. "I left my men to die. I shouldn't be the one alive. I'll never forgive myself."
Erik exhaled slowly. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture—but he also wasn't going to let the man break.
"So then why did you run when I told you to?" Erik asked calmly. "If you die now, every one of their deaths means nothing. You want to honour them? Stay alive. Get stronger. Take revenge. That's how you show respect."
Silence.
Then, slowly, the old man stood.
"…Let's go," he said.
Erik nodded. "Good. Follow me."
They disappeared into the rain, heading toward the cave.