The Beginning of Lysvarnn's Revenge

Silva stood motionless between two freshly raised mounds of earth.

Simple wooden crosses were planted as gravestones, adorned with strands of white flowers already beginning to wilt.

The last footsteps of mourners slowly faded away, leaving behind a hollow emptiness in his chest.

At that moment, a gentle gust of wind brushed through his orange hair, as if nature itself sought to ease the burden in his heart.

He stood still, frozen in place. His gaze was empty, fixed on the names carved into the crosses.

Gilbert. Maria.

Two names that should never have been there.

They were too young to die. Too kind to be returned to the gods.

“Why did it have to be you...”

His voice trembled, as if forced out from deep within.

Silva bit his lip, his fingers clutching the damp soil of the graveyard. His head bowed low. His green eyes glimmered, releasing a single tear that traced down his cheek.

“I swear...” His tone was low, almost a growl. “Your deaths will not be in vain. He will pay for everything.”

A hand landed softly on his shoulder, shattering the silence of his mourning.

He turned and found a man with gleaming dark skin standing behind him.

The man was nearly seven feet tall, with dense muscles carved into his frame.

“Master Dorgu...”

The man was silent for a while, his gaze gentle, a strange contrast to the scar slashing across his left eye. His lips remained closed, and there was no sound between them except the warmth of their breath.

His eyes glimmered faintly, mirroring the same grief.

“They did their duty well, didn’t they?” he asked, breaking the silence. “You should be proud. They were heroes of Lysvarn. Without them, peace would have been impossible in this city.”

“But...”

“I know how you feel. But... this is the risk we live with. A hunter’s work always gambles with life. One morning you laugh, the next you cry. I’ve lived through it countless times.”

Silva lowered his head in defeat. He could not argue with the truth of those words.

He had witnessed death many times before. This was not the first. But it was the first time he had truly lost someone precious. For a while, silence filled the empty space between them.

Then Silva drew a deep breath. His shoulders squared. His chin lifted, tightening the lips that had once trembled.

“I understand... Their deaths were not in vain. They will always be remembered as those who fought for the people of Lysvarn.”

A faint curve appeared on Dorgu’s lips. “That’s my student.”

He lifted his hand and patted Silva’s cheek gently. “You’re a strong young man.”

“Thank you, Master...”

That small gesture was enough to revive a faint smile that had faded moments ago.

He lifted his head again. “Master Dorgu, give me your next command. What should we do about the wolf monster in the cursed forest?”

“Command, hmm...” Dorgu stroked his chin. “That wolf has grown into something far beyond our expectations. I was at fault too for underestimating that girl’s report.”

Silva nodded slowly. “In her report, the first group said they found it near the forest’s edge. But... it’s different from Gilbert’s team’s report. The wolf was found at the heart of the forest.”

“The heart of the forest, huh...” Dorgu nodded thoughtfully. “That alone proves how fast it has evolved. A forest-type dungeon will always draw the strongest monsters toward its depths.”

Silva nodded again.

The cursed forest where the wolf dwelled was actually a forest-type dungeon long deemed accursed. Powerful monsters of gold-level threat often emerged from the shadows within.

Expeditions into its inner depths were always forbidden, especially after dusk. The setting sun was an unspoken rule that all groups deep inside the forest must retreat to its outer edges.

Yet Silva felt there was something more—something that connected the dungeon to that wolf, beyond that of mere monster and habitat.

“Master... could it be that the cursed forest is trying to make it the dungeon boss? Its growth rate is far too fast. That forest hasn’t had a boss for a hundred years, since the black dragon was slain.”

Dorgu raised an eyebrow. “An interesting theory. I’ve thought the same ever since I heard of Gilbert and Maria’s deaths.”

“Then... what shall we do, Master?”

“Well...”

Once again, no words left their mouths. Their eyes locked, filled with thought yet hollow of certainty.

“How about we ask the one behind us?” Dorgu turned, a thin smile curving on his thick lips. “You heard us, right? Care to share your thoughts?”

From behind a tree, someone revealed himself.

A tight black cloak covered his frame, and a mask hid part of his face.

Three long scars now marked what was once an unblemished visage.

“Zain...?”

Zain approached. The evening breeze fluttered the long scarf around his neck. His steps were heavy, burdened by a loss that could not be erased in a single day.

“You were the last one to face it, weren’t you?”

Zain shook his head. “I didn’t fight. It let me go.”

Dorgu frowned.

“One more thing,” Zain continued. “It sent a message. ‘Do not disturb me.’”

“It... spoke?”

Zain nodded, explaining that the wolf had spoken at the end of their battle—right after devouring Maria’s head.

Hearing that, Dorgu’s mouth fell slightly open. His eyes widened, as if struck by realization.

“Are you certain of what you saw, Zain?”

“Absolutely certain, Master Dorgu.”

“Monsters shouldn’t be able to speak, unless...”

Dorgu did not finish his sentence. He shook his head slightly, unwilling to voice what he was thinking.

Then, unexpectedly, he nodded and smiled faintly. He lifted his gaze toward Silva, who still seemed lost in thought.

“Hey, Silva. Isn’t tomorrow your day off?”

“Why do you suddenly—”

Without answering, Dorgu turned Silva around and gave him a gentle push.

“Enjoy your day off tomorrow. Take Anaxa on a date, and stop worrying. Leave everything to me.”

“B-but—”

Dorgu stopped and sighed deeply. “I said, leave everything to me.”

Silva turned, his sharp gaze meeting his master’s. The tension between them thickened. His green irises locked with Dorgu’s brown pupils, while Zain only stood in silence, glancing back and forth at them.

“You plan to handle it alone, don’t you?”

Dorgu exhaled, the northern wind brushing past him. He tilted his neck left and right, the soft crack echoing faintly.

“This old body hasn’t had a proper workout in years. I should move a little, or my bones will stiffen for the rest of my life.”

“In that case, I’ll al–”

Before he could finish, Dorgu flicked his forehead, pushing him back.

“You have another duty, fool. The battlefield isn’t where you belong.”

“What do you mean?”

The corner of Dorgu’s lips lifted. His finger extended, pressing gently against Silva’s chest this time. “While I’m gone, you’ll take my place as the next guild master. Every decision and responsibility will rest on your shoulders.”

Silva frowned. “But I...”

“I know what you’re thinking. Being a guild master isn’t just about strength. You have the mind to stay calm and make the right decisions. Or... at least that’s what I believe.”

“Master...”

Zain, who had been silent all along, finally spoke. “You plan to kill that wolf? Let me remind you—he might not be what you think he is. I’d advise you not to disturb him.”

Dorgu fell silent for a moment, glancing up at the small birds returning to their nests above.

“I know...” he whispered, calm as a night breeze. His fingers brushed through his dreadlocks. “Even so, I’ll decide for myself—after I’ve seen him with my own eyes.”

Zain said nothing more. He simply let him go.

After offering his farewell, Dorgu turned and walked away with heavy steps.

The golden sky followed him, as though it marked the last day of his life.

Silva’s shoulders drooped. “Master...”