At the bottom of the hill, Yig, Host, Slye, and the Guardian lay still for a moment, catching their breath after the brutal tumble. The bear shook its massive head, stunned by the impact—he and the others had rolled down what felt like a mile of steep, tree-ridden terrain. But the warriors were quick to recover, rising to their feet and surrounding the beast once more. Yig focused on his arm, trying to sync himself as best he could with the strange wave patterns coursing through it—like blood through veins.

  The air was crisp and still. The trees stood tall and proud, their bare branches reaching toward the sky. A light layer of frost coated the ground, crunching underfoot with every step.

  The bright blue sky had begun to show in full, casting a soft glow through the treetops. As the light spread, the forest slowly came alive. Birds scattered, startled by the sounds of battle. Each fighter’s breath—bear included—was visible in the icy air.

  Host charged the bear, lifting her arms to strike, ready to brawl. Every punch, every kick landed with precision, enhanced by her flow of mana. One hit cracked its jaw. Another slammed into its midsection. Then one to the stomach. Another to the jaw. Yig waited in the cold, watching for an opening, but Host left him little room to act.

  Eventually, the Guardian struck back, raking a claw across Host’s side and drawing blood. She swung again—missed narrowly—and the bear retaliated, swiping at her face. Host pulled back just in time, rolling away as it lunged forward.

  Slye raised his hands and summoned a puddle of mana below him. As he clenched his fists, brow furrowing, veins bulging, a storm of clay stones erupted from the ground. He twirled his arms around himself, then unleashed the stones in a razor-sharp gust toward the Guardian. The bear had little choice but to brace itself. The stones shredded its flesh at incredible speed—most left cuts, but some pierced clean through, driven by mana-fueled force.

  Yig seized his moment. Gripping Icarus tightly, he launched himself at the bear, slashing with his empowered blade. The Guardian swiped back, knocking him off his feet before he could land the blow. He slid across the frosty ground, bouncing and skidding until he rolled to a stop.

  Host rushed in to assist Slye, landing a flurry of heavy punches before retreating. Yig lunged again, this time driving his blade into the Guardian’s stomach, tearing deep.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  6 Years Ago

  Mona and Yig stood side by side, the townsfolk of Chestnut staring on in horror. The hunters itched to charge the bandits, but the mayor still held them back.

  “Where’d you get that sword?” Mona asked.

  “Nicked it from the blacksmith,” Yig replied. “Where else?”

  Daven, the bandit leader, remained their opponent—looking slightly more unhinged with each passing second. He, too, held his men back, determined to finish the duel he’d started.

  A few feet away, two farmers dragged the limp Quinlou to safety, his clothes soaked in red. He was still breathing and waved off their help, though he couldn’t stand.

  “Let’s try that one technique we were practicing the other day!” Yig said.

  “That was for hunting rams,” Mona replied, surprised he’d suggest a move they’d only made for easy meals. It hadn’t even worked well.

  “Well, this guy’s got a sheepish mug on him.”

  Mona shook her head, unconvinced. “I don’t know…”

  “Think about it, Mona!”

  She was—and she could see what he meant. But rams didn’t carry swords. The move would leave Yig wide open.

  “Trust me,” he said, eyes locked on the enemy with a confident grin. “It’ll work.”

  Daven twirled his blade with one hand, waiting. Mona had noticed—he hadn’t made the first move once since the fight began. Always, he let her go first.

  “Okay,” Mona said. “Let’s go!”

  The two children broke into a sprint, running as fast as their small legs could manage. Daven’s white teeth gleamed in a monstrous smile, his eyes alight with sadistic glee. He raised his sword, ready to parry.

  As they neared—five feet, four—Yig leapt up, springing off Mona’s shoulders to gain the height he needed to fly over the bandit’s head.

  Daven began his swing. Yig raised his own sword—but before their blades could clash, Yig extended his legs and kicked the bandit leader square in the face.

  As Daven stumbled back, knocked out of the rhythm of the fight, Mona raised both swords to her sides. She made sure to throw all her weight into the swing, determined not to leave the shallow cuts like before. With a fierce cry, she struck—blades slicing toward his stomach.

  In a move that shocked everyone present—except maybe Yig—Mona’s swords carved through cloth and flesh alike, deep gashes torn open to the cold morning air.

  The bandit let out a primal cry, his sword clattering from his hand as his head tilted back and his body spasmed. Locked in shock, eyes wide from the sudden pain, Daven collapsed into the grass.

  The crowd on both sides fell silent, the echo of Daven’s fall hanging over them in stunned anticipation.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  All three fighters stepped back, watching as the bear rolled across the ground in agony, swiping at the air in pain. Slye raised his hands and hurled another storm of sharp clay stones at it.

  “What’re you doing, man!!” a voice yelled in Yig’s head. “You’re melting me down to scrap!”

  He looked at Icarus, the purple blood sizzling across the blade, eating into the metal at a frightening pace. Yig dropped to one knee, trying to wipe the liquid off—only somewhat successfully.

  “You can’t complain,” he shouted back. “You said you wanted battle.”

  Host glanced his way, clearly confused, but said nothing. Yig noticed and awkwardly looked away.

  “I didn’t realize you’d be so careless!” Icarus snapped.

  The frothing bear turned, scratching wildly at its injuries. For a moment, it looked like it might calm down—but no. Its rage was only sharpening.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The Guardian wandered toward a tree, wrapping its massive arms around the trunk. It yanked the tree free, roots and all, lifting it into the air. Then, with terrifying force, it swung—branches rustling, leaves scattering, the top end hurtling toward them.

  Yig raised his arm, shoulder guard first.

  The tree's reach was too wide to dodge. It slammed into him, dragging him into the air, flinging him through a second tree and launching him above the forest. He hung in the air a moment, then crashed through branches and landed hard down another hill.

  He heard Host and Slye’s distant calls from above, asking if he was still in one piece. But he didn’t answer. He had no idea where the bear had gone. Groaning, he stood, cracking his back and tightening his muddied, scuffed bandages. Cuts and scrapes covered his body, most from tumbling down the mountainside—though crashing through trees hadn’t helped either. He winced as he rubbed at them.

  In shock at seeing Daven fall, several bandits drew their weapons—swords, axes, and hatchets—and charged, urging others to do the same.

  “Mayor!” Jordan shouted, desperate.

  The mayor looked toward the charging force, teeth clenched, his expression blazing with a fury Mona didn’t recognize—not frustration, but pure resolve.

  “Hunters!” he cried. “Charge!”

  Hunters and farmers surged forward, a tide of determination crashing into the fields to defend their home.

  Mona sat down, exhausted, watching as the two sides clashed in the dip of the field, metal crashing against metal. Though the bandits were confident, Chestnut’s trained hunters quickly cut many of them down, forcing the invaders to retreat before they could form a solid line.

  Jordan especially made his mark. Despite his youth, he swung his axe in a wide arc, knocking three men back with one powerful move.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  “Hey!” Yig yelled up the hill. “I’ll get you for that, you stupid bear!”

  He stomped forward, muttering in frustration. “I’ll show that furball... Can’t just throw trees at people, even if you’ve got a beast’s brain!”

  A tree burst from the forest, flying at him with terrifying speed. He rolled to dodge it—only for a second one to crash beside him.

  “Now you’re pushing it!” he screamed.

  Still crouched, Yig forced himself to focus, channeling the energy he’d summoned earlier. Power surged into Icarus, who whooped in excitement. The cyan blade began to glow.

  As a third trunk rocketed toward him, Yig slashed his sword, launching a stream of mana longer than the blade itself. It sliced the tree clean in two.

  Newfound confidence blooming, Yig dashed back uphill, weaving around shattered trunks. He could hear the Guardian roaring in frustration, flinging more trees in random directions. Each time, the earth trembled with the ripping of roots. Every few steps, Yig ducked behind a trunk, peeking to spot the bear—and by the third tree, he glimpsed its faint shape through the leaves and brush. He could’ve sworn it met his gaze.

  He jerked his head back and stood as straight as he could, trying to mimic the shape of the tree.

  He waited there, as still as possible, watching a few more logs tumble down the hill—none aimed at him. Probably meant for Slye or Host.

  He could hear his heart pounding in his chest just as clearly as Icarus complaining of cowardice in his head.

  Then, the logs stopped rolling.

  Yig heard the bear drop to all fours, sniffing through frothy, labored breaths. Pressed against the rough bark, Yig gripped the hilt of an impatient Icarus, readying to charge from cover.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  As the people of Chestnut surged into the fields, cutting down the bandits, Mona and Yig stood firm, holding their stances with fierce determination.

  Daven spat a clump of blood into the grass as he rose, clutching his side.

  “Not just yet, little ones,” he muttered, his voice straining to hold its old intensity. “Not just yet!”

  Yig raised his sword, still shouting one of his overly heroic speeches.

  “You’re the little one—small in spirit! Stand back as we knock you out with our ultimate finishing move!”

  Mona thought it was cheesy—but she understood the signal. She held her swords behind her back, ready to end it.

  Daven growled and charged at them with furious focus.

  Yig leapt at him, their swords clashing midair. Mona could’ve sworn she saw her friend glow as he deflected the bandit’s strike, leaving him wide open.

  Mona leapt from behind Yig just as he soared over Daven’s head, his sword still recoiling from the parry.

  Slashing an X across his chest, Mona tore through Daven’s shirt with both blades—just as Yig landed a cut of his own, parting the flesh of the man’s shoulder as he soared overhead.

  The two of them hit the ground—Mona with a bit more grace—just before the thud of their towering enemy, blood spraying behind him as he collapsed with wide, lifeless eyes.

  Mona didn’t even notice the second bandit charging at them, cutlass raised. She only realized when the Mayor landed a clean right hook, knocking the thug out cold.

  “Retreat!” shouted another bandit, slinging Daven over his shoulder.

  The bandits hesitated—then turned and fled as the Chestnut Hunters charged harder.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  One final, ultimate attack—that’s all Yig needed to defeat this beast, even without Mona at his side.

  The leaves above rustled in the wind. Yig peeked around the trunk, body tense, trying to spot the Guardian. A sudden punch broke his focus—Host had landed a clean hit to the bear’s side, knocking a bloody tooth from its gums.

  Letting go of hesitation, Yig charged forward, activating his aura. The strain weighed his body down, muffling his ears and grinding into his bones—but he kept sprinting.

  The Guardian drove its claw into Host’s midsection, hurling her aside. Then, with the back of its other paw, it swiped at Yig as he closed in. Yig stepped back—and in that brief moment when every movement hung in the air, their eyes locked.

  The bear’s aura pulsed with hatred—something dark, with something deeper still, trapped behind it.

  Yig planted his feet as the Guardian swung again. He looked ahead, feeling the bear’s aura echo the one from his nightmare. In his mind, he saw the man with the skull face, stitched together, staring down at him like a king eyeing an insect.

  From the depths of his determination, Yig summoned the same light he had that night. Just a glimmer—far less than the beam he’d unleashed before—but enough to steady his confidence.

  He infused the weapon with that light and his swelling aura, causing the blade to erupt in starlight, flickering like fire. It grew to twice its usual length and width, blazing like a living flame.

  Icarus roared with excitement in his mind, exulting at the taste of victory.

  In the glow of that radiant light, Yig met the beast’s eyes again—and saw the same wounded expression as the poor, injured creature he’d once found in the Chestnut woods.

  He swung at the Guardian, striking before it could even roar. The blade only grazed the beast, but the yellow blaze that cloaked it sliced through the dark aura wrapped around the bear—cutting clean through its corruption, visible to eyes attuned to aura.

  Both Yig and the Guardian collapsed, hitting the morning leaves with a crunch.

  Still conscious, Yig looked into the bear’s eyes. They were barely open, like it had just awoken from a slumber far too long. Bloodshot and sore, its eyes welled with tears—no longer filled with blind rage, but with something deeper: dread, and sorrow.

  Yig reached out a hand to comfort the creature, realizing the scratches on his own hands had vanished.

  Host rushed to his side, forging a clay spike from the earth and raising it to strike—but before she could bring it down, Yig threw himself over the bear. She stopped, saying nothing. Host only stared, her usual fury melting away, replaced by something far more fragile—fear. The same fear Yig felt. The same fear mirrored in the bear.

  Slye slid down the hill, shouting to his crew.

  “You killed it? Of course! I’d expect nothing less from my star pupil!”

  “No. I didn’t,” Yig said. “It’s... resting.”

  Standing beside Host, Slye blinked, equally confused.

  “How’d you...? What did you do to its aura?”

  The bear let out a huff, foam spilling from its mouth. Yig gently brushed his hand through its matted fur, stained with blood and mud. Its body felt more like the crumbling stone of a long-forgotten ruin than that of a living thing.

  Yig took a breath. Though it strained him, he reached for the light again—just a spark this time. He activated his aura once more, but didn’t wield it. He let it flow.

  Host and Slye activated theirs too, and from the look on their faces, they could see it as well.

  The bear’s clouded aura began to flicker and fade, dissolving into a majestic glow. It rose like steam into the air, until all that remained was something pure again.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  Mona stood atop the hill, Yig beside her, looking out over the battlefield.

  She couldn’t help but feel a rising sense of pride, watching her people fight for their home. This was the land of the great hero Darleth—only a show of strength like this could honor that legacy.

  The bandits didn’t last much longer. Soon, they’d scattered, leaving their wounded behind. As the farmers caught their breath, the hunters roared with triumph, voices lifted to the sky.

  This was the strength of Chestnut’s hunters. Hopefully, the Mayor had finally seen it.

  Heroes. Maybe... just maybe, she and Yig could really become them.