Thick, yellowed parchment crinkled as Ravon turned the heavy page of the monster encyclopedia. Sitting on the edge of his bed in Room Twelve, he traced his finger under a detailed ink sketch of a large, avian creature.
Razorwing (C-Rank). A large flying predator. Feathers are composed of organic steel, sharp enough to cut through standard iron armor. Generally passive, but highly territorial. When threatened, they launch their steel feathers as projectiles. Weakness: Fire.
Closing the heavy book with a solid thud, Ravon exhaled a long breath. He had spent the entire morning memorizing the behaviors and weaknesses of every creature from D-rank to B-rank.
"Now I can avoid making rookie mistakes," he muttered, sliding the encyclopedia onto the small wooden desk. The painful lesson the goblins had taught him yesterday still throbbed faintly in his bruised back.
He strapped the leather scabbard to his waist and opened his coin pouch, doing a quick inventory. Tucked safely inside were two advanced healing potions Mira had brewed, a spool of thin, durable climbing rope, and a meager handful of coins. After purchasing the encyclopedia, paying for his room, and getting the armorer to grind the chip out of his sword, his funds had dwindled to five gold, six silver, and two copper coins.
"At this rate, I'll be broke in a week," he grumbled, tying the pouch tight.
Ten minutes later, he pushed through the heavy oak doors of the Adventurer's Guild. Instead of the chaotic, deafening roar of mercenaries drinking and boasting, the cavernous hall was eerily quiet. Only a few scattered rookies sat at the wooden tables.
Ravon walked straight to the counter. "Good morning, Merry. Where is everyone?"
Merry looked up from a ledger, her blonde hair tied back neatly. "You only joined yesterday, so you likely haven't heard. A new, uncharted dungeon was just discovered outside the Ranvee Kingdom. Several guild carts departed this morning to explore it. The route cuts straight through the Beast Forest."
A spark of excitement flared in Ravon's chest. "Can I join the dungeon party?"
"Absolutely not," Merry said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Only A-ranks, B-ranks, and highly experienced C-ranks are permitted. We have zero intel on the dungeon's interior. It is far too dangerous for a newly registered D-rank."
Swallowing his disappointment, Ravon turned toward the quest board. He bypassed the combat bounties, searching specifically for something with a high payout. His eyes caught a clean piece of parchment pinned near the top: Gathering Quest. 4 Yellow Oyster Mushrooms and 6 Red Aethergrass. Reward: 8 silver coins. Issued by: The Moonroot Apothecary.
Eight silver was a staggering amount for picking weeds. He pulled the paper down and presented it to Merry.
"Where can I find these, and why is the reward so high for a gathering quest?"
Merry glanced at the paper. "Yellow Oyster mushrooms don't grow in Arora Forest. They are exclusively found deep in the Beast Forest. Hiring a private carriage to take you that far costs up to four silver coins. The apothecary factored the travel expenses into the reward."
Ravon frowned. "If travel costs four silver, my profit is only four. I could make that much hunting goblins."
"Normally, yes," Merry smiled. "But since the guild carts are already heading toward the Ranvee Kingdom, you can ride with them for free. You get to keep the entire eight silver. The second-to-last convoy departs in half an hour. You will reach the Beast Forest by midday."
"Good idea," Ravon agreed, tucking the bounty into his pocket. "Any tips for finding the mushrooms?"
"Look at the base of old, rotting trees," she advised.
The wooden wheels of the guild cart groaned against the uneven dirt road.
Ravon sat in the back, the only passenger aside from a weathered old man wearing worn, patched robes. The man leaned against a wooden crate, chewing lazily on a piece of dried grass.
"Boy, are you also going to explore that newly found dungeon?" the old man asked, his voice rough like grinding stones.
"No," Ravon answered politely. "I'm getting off at the Beast Forest."
The man raised a bushy gray eyebrow. "Are you going inside the Beast Forest dungeon?"
Ravon shook his head. "No. I have a gathering quest for Yellow Oyster mushrooms."
"Ah!" The old man chuckled, spitting the grass over the side of the cart. "You know they usually grow at the bottom of old trees, right?"
"Yes, the receptionist told me."
"I bet she didn't tell you the secret, though," the old man grinned, revealing several missing teeth. "Yellow Oysters need altitude. You'll only find large clusters at the base of old trees growing on hills or mountains."
"I didn't know that. Thank you."
The old man laughed, a wheezing sound that rattled in his chest. "Keep your eyes open, boy. Be careful of the Beast Forest monsters."
By midday, the cart rolled to a halt. Ravon hopped down onto the familiar, damp earth of the ancient woods, waving as the convoy continued its journey toward Ranvee.
The air was dense and humid. Drawing on the old man's advice, Ravon funneled a trace of Strength magic into his arms and easily scaled a thin, towering pine. From the high branches, he scanned the sea of green. A mile to the east, a steep, rocky hill rose above the canopy, choked with thick, viny timber.
"That should be it," he murmured, dropping gracefully back to the forest floor.
He moved quietly, crossing a shallow, babbling river and wading through a vibrant field of wildflowers. The deeper he went, the thicker the undergrowth became.
Crunch. Snap.
The sound of breaking bone drifted through the thick ferns ahead.
Crouching low, Ravon crept forward. Through the leaves, two green-skinned goblins crouched over the bloody carcass of a horn rabbit, tearing strips of raw meat from the bone.
"Free coins," Ravon whispered.
Channeling Earth magic, he summoned two jagged, heavy stones from the dirt. With a sharp flick of his wrists, the rocks shot forward, striking both goblins violently in their backs. As the creatures shrieked and stumbled forward, Ravon blurred from the bushes. A flawless, spinning double-slash of his sword severed both necks before they could even draw their crude weapons.
Digging the green mana cores from their chests, he wiped his knife clean. Just a few feet away, growing near the roots of a massive oak, a cluster of vibrant crimson blades caught his eye.
"Red Aethergrass," he noted, pulling a small cloth sack from his waist. He carefully plucked six pristine blades for the apothecary, then harvested a dozen more to sell to the local merchants.
The terrain angled sharply upward. The bottom of the rocky hill was steep, covered in slick moss and loose stone. By the time Ravon dragged himself onto a flat plateau near the top, his lungs burned, and his legs ached from the grueling climb. He collapsed into the cool shade of a towering, ancient oak tree, uncorking his water flask.
A soft rustling pulled his attention to the right.
A small brown rabbit hopped cautiously from the tall grass. Its nose twitched, completely unfazed by the human presence. It hopped closer, eventually climbing right onto Ravon's outstretched leg, scaling his chest, and perching comfortably on his shoulder. A tiny, warm tongue licked his cheek.
The tickling sensation sparked a vivid memory.
"Are you the same rabbit?" Ravon asked, his red eyes widening. Four years ago, when he had woken up with no memory and a blank mind, a brown rabbit just like this one had licked his face to wake him up.
The creature simply stared at him with unblinking, dark black eyes.
"I can't play today," Ravon sighed, gently setting the animal back onto the grass. "I have to find Yellow Oyster mushrooms."
The rabbit didn't run away. It hopped three paces toward the deep woods, stopped, and looked back at him. It hopped three more paces.
It wants me to follow.
Trusting the strange instinct, Ravon stood up and followed the creature through the thick brush. The rabbit led him directly to the base of a colossal, decaying tree, its roots as thick as houses. Nestled in the damp rot of the wood were dozens of faintly glowing, golden-yellow mushrooms.
"Finally," Ravon smiled, kneeling in the dirt. He carefully harvested four of the largest caps, securing them in his pouch. The quest was complete.
The rabbit sat perfectly still, staring at him. Without warning, it turned and sprinted wildly into the deep woods.
Ravon stood up, taking a step to follow.
A deafening CRACK shattered the quiet forest.
The colossal tree beside him violently splintered. A shadow blocked out the sun. Standing twenty feet tall, clutching a tree trunk as a crude club, was a giant Cyclops. Its leathery, gray skin was stretched tight over bulging muscles, and a single, massive brown eye locked directly onto Ravon.
A B-rank monster, Ravon's mind supplied instantly from the encyclopedia. I need to retreat.
He took a slow step backward. The giant eye tracked the movement.
Too late. Ihave to distract it.
The Cyclops roared, swinging the massive tree trunk in a devastating downward arc. Ravon funneled Motion magic into his legs, diving desperately to the side. The club pulverized the earth where he had just been standing, sending a shockwave of dirt and debris through the air.
Using the creature's forward momentum, Ravon unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp Earth stones. The rocks tore into the Cyclops's thick hide, drawing shallow streaks of dark blood. The monster staggered backward, momentarily off balance.
Its weakness is the horn on its forehead, Ravon remembered, drawing his sword. He channeled maximum strength into his legs, preparing to launch himself upward for a lethal strike.
At the edge of the clearing, the brown rabbit suddenly collapsed.
It hit the dirt like a cut puppet. Its dark black eyes turned red.
The wounded Cyclops froze perfectly still.
The heavy, fluid movements of the giant monster vanished. Its joints stiffened, locking into place like rusted doll hinges. A sickening crack echoed as its neck snapped violently to the side. The giant, brown eye rolled back into its head, replacing the pupil with an endless, pitch-black void. On the side of the monster's thick neck, a dark, rotating spiral mark—like a whirlpool of pure shadow—burned itself into the gray flesh.
The Cyclops swung its club.
There was no wind-up. No roar. Just a blur of impossible, terrifying speed.
Ravon threw himself backward, his heart hammering against his ribs. A perfect, ten-foot crater exploded in the earth exactly where he had been standing. The sheer kinetic force of the impact threw him through the air, but he twisted, landing boots-first against the trunk of a tree.
Pushing off the bark, he launched himself like a missile straight at the monster's face. His blade flashed in the sunlight.
CRUNCH.
Enchanted steel cleaved cleanly through the bone horn protruding from the Cyclops's forehead. A massive fountain of crimson blood erupted from the skull, raining down over the grass.
Ravon landed smoothly in the dirt, exhaling a sharp breath. The killing blow was struck.
But the Cyclops didn't fall.
It didn't even flinch. Covered in a torrent of its own blood, the towering monster slowly turned its head. The jagged tear in its skull poured crimson down its face, yet the creature remained standing.
Slowly, the Cyclops's thick lips pulled back. It stretched into a wide, impossibly large, terrifying smile.
Raw, paralyzing terror flooded Ravon's veins. How is it still standing? It should be dead! The hesitation cost him dearly.
The Cyclops kicked. The blow connected squarely with Ravon's chest before he could even raise his sword.
The impact sounded like a cannon shot. Ravon flew backward, crashing violently into the ancient, decaying tree. Wood splintered against his spine. He hit the ground hard, a thick mouthful of copper-tasting blood spilling past his lips.
Gasping for air that refused to come, he scrambled into his pouch, uncorking Mira's advanced healing potion. He downed the bitter liquid. The agonizing fire in his chest instantly cooled as cracked bones seamlessly stitched themselves back together.
I have to run.
Before his boots could find purchase in the dirt, a colossal, leathery hand clamped around his entire torso.
The Cyclops hoisted him twenty feet into the air. The monster brought him close to its face, staring at him with that dead, black eye. The creepy, unnatural smile never faded.
Then, it squeezed.
Agonizing pressure crushed Ravon's ribcage. He opened his mouth to gasp, but a raw, tearing scream ripped from his throat instead. The sound of his own bones popping under the immense strain filled his ears. The Cyclops tilted its head, watching him scream, thoroughly enjoying the gruesome display.
Through the blinding pain, Ravon stared directly at the rotating black spiral mark burning on the creature's neck. It felt horribly, terrifyingly familiar.
With a sickening snap, three ribs gave way. Ravon shrieked, his vision flashing white.
Bored with the screaming, the Cyclops casually threw him.
Ravon plummeted, slamming into the hard earth. He bounced like a ragdoll. Through blurred, tearing eyes, he saw the monster approaching, its heavy boot raised to crush him. Desperation ignited his core. He flooded his aura with the red light of Defense just as the heavy foot connected.
He skipped across the clearing like a stone on water, smashing violently into a heavy granite boulder. The magical barrier shattered, absorbing the worst of the impact, but the sheer kinetic shock cracked his shoulder and shattered his right arm.
Coughing violently, dark blood splattered across his white shirt. He dragged himself up with his one good arm. He was entirely outmatched. This wasn't a B-rank monster anymore. It was an anomaly.
He forced his broken body forward, sprinting desperately toward the cliff edge he had climbed earlier. He reached into his pouch with trembling, bloody fingers and uncorked his final healing potion. He swallowed the liquid in one gulp.
Warmth rushed through his veins. His shattered arm snapped back into place. His ribs fused.
The moment his body fully healed, the Cyclops caught up.
The massive tree-trunk club swung horizontally, crashing directly into Ravon's side. The force launched him entirely off the plateau.
Gravity claimed him. Tumbling backward into the open air, Ravon stared up at the cliff edge. Standing perfectly still at the precipice, bathed in its own blood, the smiling Cyclops watched him fall. The terrifying image burned itself permanently into Ravon's mind.
He plummeted through the canopy. Thick pine branches whipped across his face and body, slowing his descent before he finally crashed heavily into a deep thicket of ferns.
A sickening snap echoed from his right leg. The bone fractured, the impact too severe for the lingering magic of the final potion to fully repair. He lay in the dirt, gasping for air, his clothes shredded and soaked in blood.
He looked up through the broken branches. The cliff was silent. The Cyclops wasn't following.
Dragging himself up using a tree trunk, Ravon forced his fractured leg to bear weight. The pain was excruciating, but the sheer terror overriding his system kept him moving. He limped wildly through the deep woods, fleeing the nightmare on the mountain.
A dark opening in the rock face appeared ahead. A cave.
Without thinking, Ravon dragged himself into the pitch-black maw of the cavern, pressing his back against the cold stone wall. He slid to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. His entire body trembled uncontrollably. Every time he closed his eyes, that dead, black eye and the bloody, creeping smile flashed in the dark.
Time lost all meaning. He sat in the cold, bleeding and shivering.
Then, the soft crunch of a boot stepping on gravel echoed inside the cave.
Someone was coming in.
Ravon tried to lift his sword, but his arm refused to move. Total exhaustion dragged him down. Through half-open eyes, he saw a slim silhouette stepped out of the darkness
Before he could see the face, his vision faded completely to black, and the cold stone swallowed him whole.