Chapter 20: First hunt
Somewhere beyond the eyes of the world, in a chamber where light could not reach, seven figures sat around an obsidian table.
No one spoke. No one stirred.
They were cloaked in an unnatural veil, their features swallowed by shadows. Were they human? Were they Morveth wearing human form? It was impossible to tell.
One thing, however, was certain. They were people whose decisions could shape the fate of kingdoms.
At the head of the table sat a solitary figure. Unlike his peers, no aura leaked from his body. Yet, his silence carried more authority than any display of power. He waited, allowing the silence to linger.
Finally, his voice broke the stillness.
"...The report."
A man standing in the shadows lowered his head, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The Seventh Young Master of House Vesperion has awakened."
A brief silence followed.
"He awakened a Hidden Class."
"...A Necromancer."
Silence reigned. No one reacted, save for the figure at the head of the table, who slowly interlocked his fingers.
"So?" one of the figures said dismissively. "A Hidden Class is rare, but hardly unprecedented. The boy is merely another fortunate whelp."
The leader raised his gaze. Beneath his calm expression, a trace of hatred surfaced.
"The Class is not the problem," he said, his voice flat.
"The history of the Class is."
Every figure at the table straightened instinctively.
"Centuries ago, the founder of House Vesperion—the architect of that monster-den—wielded this exact power," the leader continued, his eyes fixed on the tabletop. "He built his legacy on the bones of the dead, forcing powers to bow before his rot. And now, the bloodline has circled back to its origin."
He closed his hand into a fist.
"The world nearly paid the price for allowing him to grow. We will not repeat that mistake."
The leader’s gaze hardened.
"No one is to act. We observe. We wait." He leaned forward, his eyes cutting through the darkness. "As long as the Seventh remains within the duchy, he is beyond our reach. Let it be known: anyone foolish enough to cross those borders will be dead before they even realize their heart has stopped beating."
His voice dropped, cold and unwavering.
"But the moment he steps beyond those walls... crush the threat before it can become another catastrophe."
The meeting was over.
The Training Grounds.
A breeze swept through the silent training grounds of House Vesperion.
Instructor Kael stood in the center, hands clasped behind his back. He watched as Malrik approached.
"You’re late."
Malrik scanned the empty, silent arena.
"Am I? Looks like I’m the only one here."
"They’ve already left," Kael said flatly. "You’re the last."
Malrik shrugged, a faint, dry smirk touching his lips.
"Good. I’ve never liked crowds."
Kael’s expression flickered; a hint of a smile appeared, then vanished.
"Ready for your first real hunt?"
Malrik looked at him, then let out a slow, tired sigh.
"If I say no, can I go back to bed?"
Kael stared at him, unblinking. A heartbeat later, he let out a short, sharp laugh.
"No."
"Didn’t think so."
Without another word, Kael raised a hand. Mana surged, weaving emerald runes across the stone until they flared into a blinding formation.
Malrik felt his vision blur.
The next second, the air turned cold and damp. He was standing inside a dense forest. A nearby cliff-face held a dark, jagged cave entrance, scarred by fresh claw marks.
Kael stood beside him, motionless.
"First-Rank Shadow Wolves. They’re at the bottom of the food chain, but don’t be a fool. They hunt as a pack. They’re fast, and they’ll gut anyone who lowers their guard."
Kael locked eyes with him.
"Your task is simple. Kill them."
"That’s it?" Malrik frowned.
"That’s it."
Kael turned and—in a single blink—vanished. No footsteps. No residual mana. No shimmer in the air.
Malrik chuckled dryly.
"Well. At least he didn’t stick around to watch me die."
He turned toward the cave. A scraping sound echoed from the dark interior. Claws against stone.
"Already?"
Two pairs of crimson eyes ignited in the gloom. The wolves emerged—fur pitch-black, muscles coiling. They didn’t charge. They split. One left, one right. They moved with the eerie silence of professional predators.
Malrik drew his spear, its familiar weight grounding his racing heart.
Should i summon Lilith?
He pushed the thought aside. No. Kael is watching. I need to know what I can do on my own.
The forest fell deathly silent.
Malrik tightened his grip, shifting into his stance.
Finish it quickly, he thought, eyes darting between the two beasts. If the rest of the pack hears the fight... I’m already dead.
Both wolves dropped into a crouch.
The air hummed with tension.
Then... they vanished into the shadows
Comments