When the Hunt Begins
The cold northern wind howled like a grieving spirit as the sun vanished completely. For three nights, the North would know only darkness—and for three nights, monsters would descend from the cursed mountains beyond the dead river.
Abigel stood tall at the edge of the forest, black cloak trailing behind him like death itself. His sword, obsidian-forged, reflected no light. At his side, Aria adjusted her leather uniform, her silver hair tied back tightly. She had never been in real battle.
Kaelen, standing a few paces away, glanced at her with concern. His blue aura flickered around him like a living flame.
"If things go wrong, fall back. Don't hesitate," he told her quietly.
"I won't," Aria said, hiding her fear.
But deep inside, she was terrified.
The ground vibrated.
They were coming.
Dozens of beasts poured from the trees—twisted forms with sinewy limbs and glowing yellow eyes. Black Knights charged forward, swords drawn. Abigel led the vanguard, a silent ghost slashing through the chaos.
Kaelen's aura blazed, sending searing flames through the monsters, reducing them to ash. But there were too many.
Aria held the line with her unit, trembling as she drove her blade into a beast's throat. Blood sprayed across her face.
This isn't training… this is war.
Kaelen was on the frontlines without rest. His aura, once vibrant, flickered dimly. A claw sliced into his shoulder, but he kept going.
"Fall back!" he roared. "Regroup at the cliffs!"
Elsewhere, Abigel's group was surrounded.
"We're getting overrun!" someone screamed.
Abigel fought with the calm of death. He showed no fear. But he was bleeding—from his arm, his ribs, his side.
They hadn't slept. They hadn't eaten.
The second night fell with no hope.
Aria was numb, her sword heavy. Her arms shook with every strike. A knight got injured shielding her.
"We can't win…" ARIA whispered.
Kaelen had burns on his face, blood in his eyes. His aura flared uncontrollably, and he collapsed briefly. When a knight tried to help him, Kaelen shouted:
"Save your strength for the next scream, not me!"
The third day was madness.
Abigel had taken a sword through the side. Still, he stood, refusing to fall. His cloak was torn, blood-soaked. Monsters were no longer rushing in waves—they were hunting, methodically.
Kaelen's squad was split apart. The ice under their boots cracked with every step.
Issac was beside her, panting, blood on his blade.
Then came the monster.
Ten feet tall. Eyes glowing white. Claws like spears.
The knights panicked.
And in the middle of it—Issac grabbed Aria's wrist.
"Issac—"
"Sorry, my lady," he whispered.
He shoved her forward, directly in the path of the beast.
Aria stumbled, confused.
"No… no, you didn't—"
Aria stared at Issac, heart breaking.
You were my friend… you trained me… why?
Aria's heart shattered as she watched Issac vanish into the fog, his figure retreating like a coward into the shadows—leaving her behind.
He… left me.
The betrayal was sharp, deeper than the gash that tore through her shoulder the moment she turned. Blood sprayed out in hot pulses, and the pain traveled straight to her jaw. She bit her lip so hard she tasted metal.
Another blow came—this one grazing her ribs.
She stumbled back, sword trembling in her grip.
Her vision blurred. Her body screamed for her to stop.
Use the aura. You'll die like this!
Her hands shook, golden sparks flaring at her fingertips as instinct tried to override logic. But just as the power swelled—
"Do not use your aura."
Theodore's voice echoed in her mind.
She gasped—her aura flickered out.
Aria laughed bitterly, breathless and half-crazed.
"Seriously? You left me, Issac. Uncle forbade me. And I'm bleeding like a gutted pig…"
She looked up as the beast snarled again, pacing.
Then something clicked.
Some of the Black Knights didn't even have aura.
And yet—they fought.
They endured.
"Fine…" she muttered, voice ragged. "I'll do it myself."
She surged forward.
Pain tore through her limbs, but she fought with everything she had—grit, reflex, instinct. Every move became sharper, more desperate, more precise. Her blade flashed, stained with blood and rage.
Her body shook. Her lips were cracked. Her vision danced with sparks of unconsciousness.
And then—
A strange shift.
The growling stopped.
The monsters hissed—and began to retreat.
One by one.
Aria blinked. Why?
And then she saw it.
The sky was changing.
Light. Soft, golden. Sunlight.
The first sunbeam pierced the clouds like a blade through smoke.
She dropped to her knees, tears blurring her vision.
We survived.
I survived.
Before her knees could fully collapse, a hand touched her back.
"You did a good job."
She turned.
Abigel.
His armour was dented. His eyes were heavy. But he smiled.
"You lasted… You fought well."
Aria collapsed into him—not unconscious, just exhausted, wounded, broken—and yet, alive.
As they returned to the duchy, the sunlit fields of the North looked nothing like the battlefield they had crawled out of. Most of the Black Knights limped, shoulders slouched, armor cracked and bloodied—but they lived. Barely.
No one died.
But it felt like a part of Aria had.
Her wound was still open, bleeding through the bandage hastily wrapped over her shoulder. She refused to let anyone help her. She marched straight into the duchy hall, boots leaving red footprints along the polished floors, fury in her veins hotter than pain.
The moment she opened the door to Theo's office, her breath hitched.
There he was.
Issac.
Standing beside Theo as if nothing had happened. No guilt. No shame. His armor polished. His posture confident.
Aria's hands clenched into fists.
"Why…" she said through gritted teeth. "Why are you still wearing that uniform?"
The room went still.
Theo looked up from his desk slowly, calm but unreadable.
Issac turned—but didn't speak.
"You betrayed me," Aria spat, her voice cracking with the weight of those three days. "You left me to die. You didn't just abandon me—you pushed me toward the monster."
Her breath came in ragged bursts.
"You betrayed all of us."
Issac opened his mouth, but Aria raised her hand to stop him. Blood dripped from her fingers, her wound reopened from the force of her anger.
"I trusted you," she whispered. "but in the end you choose yourself"