The sun was already gone when the wagon stopped.
"Something's on the road, Dad," the boy said, pointing with a dirt-stained finger.
The man pulled the reins.
The youngest daughter clung tighter to her mother's arm.
In the middle of the trail… something was breathing. Hunched over. Still. Almost asleep.
But it was far too big to be a forest animal… and far too strange to be human.
"Stay inside the wagon. All of you," the father said, gripping the old hunting spear.
The smell reached them before the sound. A scent of copper… and rotting moss.
"Hey!" he shouted. "Are you hurt? Do you need help?"
The creature rose slowly.
It looked as if two bodies had been forced into one:
A woman—tall and thin—merged with a deer, legs bent like branches, arms bending in the wrong places. The face… almost beautiful, but with two eyes of different sizes and a mouth that didn't seem to remember how to smile.
It (or she) answered with a guttural sound.
Not anger.
Not pain.
Just… confusion.
"Dad…" the little girl whimpered, trembling.
The creature took a step. Then another.
"Please…" she said. Her voice was scraped raw—childlike and ancient at the same time.
"I… just… wanted… to go back…"
The father stepped back, the spear's shaft shaking in his hands.
The creature blinked, as if unsure what blinking even was. As if imitating someone from long ago.
"I was… someone…"
She stopped.
Then—a crack. Something snapped inside her. A bone? A memory?
The creature began to tremble. Her eyes rolled inward. Her body collapsed.
No scream. No fight.
She fell.
Dead.
The silence was absolute.
Not even the crickets dared to speak.
The father didn't move closer. No one left the wagon.
He turned the cart around, the wheels groaning like old bones, and headed back the way they had come.
No hurry.
No words.
---
The next day, at the end of that same road, a group of young warriors gathered. They'd heard the rumors—a monster sighted nearby.
"Our first mission is to find some gruesome monster," one of them muttered.
"You don't get it," said another, almost giddy. "If we kill a monster on our first job, we'll be heroes."
"True…" The thought actually made him smile. "But damn, how far do we have to walk?"
"Not far, according to the farmer."
But when they got close, they didn't see that deformed woman.
They saw something stranger—blood. But no body.
---
TOC TOC TOC. Heavy knocks pounded against the door.
"At this hour? Must be Gorham," Kaerlin grumbled. "What's next, his daughter too? Come on, big guy—"
"It's not Gorham," Bruno said, opening the door—and finding Tila standing there.
"Bruno! You heard the latest gossip?"
"A new scandal first thing in the morning!" Kaerlin practically bounced. "That already gets me excited."
"I don't think so," Bruno replied.
"A terrifying monster showed up."
"Of course a monster showed up. We live in a fantasy world."
"Fantasy world? No—I mean a different kind of monster. A deer-woman. She was spotted yesterday."
"And you're half-cow. I don't hear anyone screaming your name," Seralyne cut in, already stirring up trouble at dawn.
"She's right. What's the difference?"
"Shut up, idiots! Not like me—she was tall, terrifying, like… not half-and-half, but a woman and a deer, all wrong…"
Bruno's eyes narrowed.
"You're sure about that?"
"That's what I heard."
"Come here." He motioned for them to follow.
They walked to a desk.
Bruno pulled out a crimson book, its edges stained like old blood.
Soul Foundation. The title was burned into the leather.
"This… happened about twenty years ago," Bruno said.
"Twenty years?! Seriously?" Tila exclaimed.
"If what you said is true, yes." Bruno flipped a page, his finger tracing an old line written in dark, rusted ink.
"'Partial fusion experiments result in cognitive loss and irreversible bodily deformities. Subjects retain fragments of former memories.'"
Seralyne raised a brow.
"So is that a monster diary or a deranged necromancer's menu?"
"This is one of the few things left from a group who—years ago—thought they could play god with forbidden magic," Bruno said, eyes never leaving the page. "Mages… three of them survived."
Tila folded her arms, worried.
"And you think they're back?"
Bruno closed the book harder than he meant to.
"I don't know. Even after all this time… there's always a fool who'd turn his wife into a monster for hope."
Silence. Kaerlin, unusually quiet, lingered at the edge of Bruno's thoughts.
"…So what now?" Tila asked, hand already on her club.
"You," Bruno said, rising to his feet, "keep your routines. Tell me if you hear anything. I'll… find more answers."
"That's your plan?" Seralyne teased, half-mocking, half-curious.
"That's more than he usually gives in a whole morning," Kaerlin muttered. "Progress."
Tila stared for a moment. Then sighed.
"Fine. But if I hear one more farmer say a deer-woman is attacking his chicken coop, I'm fighting."
"Hard to tell who's screaming louder—you or the creature," Seralyne whispered, smirking.
"What was that?" Tila spun on her heel.
"Nothing. Just saying you're unique, Tila."
Bruno was already walking away, ignoring their bickering—but his mind was burning slow.
Soul Foundation.
Hybrids.
Vanished mages.
The mist of the past was moving.
And if there's one thing he knew… every storm begins with whispers—and small monsters.
---
"You going the safe way, or rolling the dice?" Kaerlin asked, like he already knew the answer but needed to ask anyway.
"They know not all the warriors died. They wouldn't stay in their own lair," Bruno said, eyes locked on the trail. "But… I won't rule out the attempt."
The path was long. Dry. Silent.
And yet… far too heavy to be just a road.
The trees twisted as if bent by force. Broken swords jutted from the ground like buried scars.
A blackened helmet, split in half, rested on a makeshift stake.
A symbol drawn in dried blood still stained the stone nearby.
"Remember this place?" Kaerlin asked quietly.
Bruno stopped. The wind carried the warm scent of dust and rusted iron.
He crouched, brushing his hand over a shallow crater now overgrown with moss.
"I fought here…" he murmured. "Against men who didn't want to be men anymore. And beside others who'd forgotten what it meant to be."
"And you survived."
"I don't know if that was luck… or punishment."
He stood again. Kept walking. No signs marked the path—but his feet seemed to remember where mistakes were born.
In the distance, stone ruins emerged.
Broken walls. Fallen arches. A collapsed tower half-swallowed by earth.
"This was the entrance to the Shadow-Sunder Keep, right?" Kaerlin whispered.
"I remember bleeding near to death to defend it," Bruno said.
"You bled. But you didn't die."
Bruno approached what looked like a buried stairway. Grass grew thin there.
A scrap of black banner still fluttered between stones.
He touched the wall.
And spoke low:
"If any of you remain… be ready. I won't hold back."
Kaerlin fell silent.
For a moment… the ruins answered with stillness.
Then—a colder breeze slid past Bruno. And with it… something moving.
Below, in the dark, a torch flared to life.
Then another.
Bruno pulled his hood up. His face hardened.
"So there is someone."
He descended. No fear. No hesitation.
---
What he found was a crooked tent.
And a figure sitting, statue-still, clad in patched armor.
A tattered cape.
A sword planted in the dirt like the only thing keeping him upright.
Bruno approached slowly.
"You came for answers?"
The old warrior's voice cut through the still air before Bruno spoke a word.
"That depends on what you have to offer," Bruno replied.
The man lifted his gaze. One eye was sealed by a scar. The other gleamed like metal in the firelight.
"I know that look. That face. You were called… the Summoned Warrior, weren't you? Came out of nowhere—and vanished the same way."
A harsh laugh scraped from his throat.
Bruno froze.
That name.
Few dared to speak it anymore.
"It's been a long time since anyone said that."
"And even longer since you listened," the old man smirked. "But some names… stick to the soul."
Bruno knelt near the fire.
"I'm looking for signs. Something's moving out there. Something that shouldn't exist."
"It's about the experiments, isn't it?"
Bruno's head snapped up.
"How do you know?"
The man uncorked a flask, drank deep, and wiped his mouth.
"Because I saw one. Three days ago. A thing that shouldn't breathe—but did. Three eyes. Bones in the wrong places. Part man. Part bear. Part nothing."
Bruno clenched his fists. Tila was right.
"Only three mages remain who started this. And only one's mad enough to try again. But after I enter their game… they'll regret coming back."
The old man nodded slowly.
"The one who controls the beast inside us all."
Silence.
The fire popped, scattering sparks into the gloom.
Bruno rose.
"Thank you."
"You still the Summoned Warrior?"
"No. But I might have to be again."
The man's laugh rasped like steel on stone.
"Then go! And make enough noise so they know you're back."
---
Bruno left the cave.
And froze.
Four twisted shapes lurked at the treeline.
Tall. Warped. Quivering.
Arms bent at angles no bone should bend.
Faces layered over faces.
Too many eyes.
Soul-fused.
Bruno stepped back.
His battle instinct screamed kill.
But his eyes—his eyes saw something else.
Suffering.
One of them—or "them"—lurched forward.
Its movements jerky, as if fighting itself.
Bruno drew his blade.
No hesitation.
No rush.
The strike was clean.
Perfect.
Between the eyes.
Instant.
The fused soul dropped without a sound. Bruno planted his feet, facing the other three.
"I swear—I'll end this. Fast."
The second lunged through the trees, clutching a spear of jagged bone.
Bruno twisted aside.
The blade sliced in a short, brutal arc, snapping spine from nerves.
The body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
The third hesitated. Smaller. Almost childlike.
Two voices cried from within. One screamed. The other only whispered, "No."
Quick.
A clean cut to the neck.
Steady hands.
The last one ran.
Not in rage—in despair.
But its warped body stumbled, crashing to its knees.
Bruno approached slowly.
Kneeling before the broken thing.
"Forgive me."
Steel flashed.
Silence.
The wind returned.
Birdsong crept back.
Bruno wiped his blade.
Said nothing.
Kaerlin spoke at last, voice soft.
"That was mercy. They were broken."
"They should never have been made."
---
When Bruno reached the village, lanterns glowed. People crowded the streets, shouting—but not in joy.
"Bruno! Something—or someone—came and took children!"
"Damn it. I'm too late," Bruno muttered, guilt burning his voice. "Anyone hurt?"
"Thankfully, no."
"Where?"
"The forest."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"You, idiot."
The forest felt more alive than ever — but in the wrong way.
The branches didn't just sway; they trembled, as if breathing. The leaves danced even without wind, and the air carried the bitter taste of burnt magic.
Tila was the first to spot the tracks: wide, deep footprints, as if something impossibly heavy had stormed through.
"This way," she growled, gripping her club tightly.
"You always say that," Seralyne replied, moving with a grace that looked like mockery but was pure caution.
A few steps deeper, the forest opened into a silent clearing. And there he was.
The Gray Wolf.
His body was cloaked in dark gray fur, black stripes running across his shoulders and chest. Claws dug into the soil, and eyes burned like embers. Half man, half beast. But the most striking thing wasn't his size or his fangs — it was his stance. Crouched low, not as a predator, but as a guardian. And behind him, wrapped in dry leaves and makeshift cloth, lay three sleeping children.
But Tila didn't see that.
She saw a monster.
"Seralyne, now!"
The elf didn't hesitate. Her black daggers flew like serpents in the dark — one sliced the air above the creature, the other buried deep into his arm. The Wolf snarled in pain.
Tila leapt, spinning midair, her club smashing against the beast's flank. The impact slammed him into a tree — but he was up again in a heartbeat, eyes locked on them both.
He didn't strike back.
He defended. Always between them and the children.
"He's protecting them," Seralyne said, backing off.
"That doesn't matter! He'll kill us if he can!" Tila roared, charging again.
This time, the Wolf fought back. He lunged with a broken howl, and the blows became real. He was fast — faster than he looked. Tila tried to predict his movements, but fighting him was like clashing with a seasoned warrior and a wild beast at once. Seralyne moved like a shadow, aiming for blind spots, but even her enchanted blades barely pierced that hide.
Clubs against claws. Daggers against fangs.
The forest rang with the sound of battle.
---
Meanwhile, Bruno had followed a different trail. Something guided him — a heat in his chest, an ancient whisper in his mind, a scent of forgotten magic. He stopped when he saw a circle of runes carved in stone… and at its heart, a fragment of a broken sigil.
"Control magic."
He touched the stone. Pain flared through his arm like fire. A symbol burned to life on his skin — one he hadn't seen in years. A memory clawed its way back.
"A perfect soul-forging."
Bruno closed his eyes and murmured:
"You're not just a beast. You were someone. And you still are."
Malum evanescere.
Energy bloomed from his palm — faint, but unyielding. A thin thread of light shot toward the forest… and into the Wolf's chest.
---
In the clearing, the Wolf staggered.
Seralyne was mid-leap, both blades drawn for the kill, when he collapsed to his knees. Tila froze, her club hovering inches above his skull.
The children behind him stirred — calm, unafraid.
Tila's breath caught.
Bruno emerged from the shadows, hand still raised.
"He wasn't attacking. He never was. He was protecting them… from us."
"But…" Tila turned, eyes flicking to the children. "I almost—"
Seralyne stepped closer, her voice low.
"That was soul-forging, wasn't it?"
Bruno nodded.
"But not like the others. This one… worked. This man — this Wolf — fused with love, not with pain."
The Wolf's gaze met Bruno's. For a moment, his eyes shone with understanding. The symbol on his chest pulsed — and shattered.
The control was gone.
He collapsed, breathing hard. Half man, half beast… but free.
Bruno knelt beside him.
"What's your name?"
The answer came ragged, trembling.
"Cael… Cael Rhun… She was all I had…"
Bruno's hand rested gently on his shoulder — but before he could speak again, Cael went limp. Spent.
"Then we'll make sure you never forget her."
Something bigger was moving. Something had begun.
But tonight, they had saved a soul that had been broken… and stitched back together.
The sky was clear, stars burning brighter than ever — or maybe it only seemed that way after a night so dark.
---
Bruno sat on the warm tiles of his rooftop, silent. Tila climbed up next, her steps sure and strong. Seralyne followed with an exaggerated sigh and a ready quip.
"So, is this supposed to be a reflective moment, or just a collective attempt to catch a cold?"
"Roof. Good view. Quiet," Bruno said simply, as if that explained everything.
"Poetic. Depressing, but poetic," Seralyne muttered, lying back, arms folded behind her head. But she stayed.
Tila crossed her legs, chin resting on her knees.
"Today was… weird. Knowing we almost hurt someone who was just trying to protect."
Bruno looked at her but didn't speak.
"Made me feel like an idiot, you know?" Tila continued. "Strong enough to smash anything, too stupid to know what to smash. If you hadn't gone after—"
"It wasn't stupidity," he said quietly. "It was fear. And fear wears many masks."
"Great. Fear with muscles. Perfect combo," Seralyne said dryly, eyes still on the stars.
"Would you have done it differently?" Tila shot back.
"I'd probably have buried a blade in the creature before asking questions," Seralyne admitted. "And then hated myself for it later."
Bruno exhaled slowly. The night air was cool, calm. But his mind… far away.
"The mistake is easy to see afterward. The danger is when it repeats — that's when it becomes guilt."
"So you're saying it'll happen again?" Tila's voice was small.
"I'm saying… we'll try to stop it. Knowing we'll fail sometimes."
Silence. Not heavy — honest.
"Do you ever wonder if we're not enough for what's coming?" Tila asked.
"Every day," Bruno said. No hesitation.
"Wow. Thanks for the pep talk," Seralyne muttered, no real bite in it.
"Hope isn't believing everything will be fine," Bruno said. "It's moving forward when you know it might not be."
Seralyne blinked.
"That's… pillow-embroidery material."
Tila laughed softly. Nervous, but real.
"Seralyne… are you scared?"
The elf smirked, eyes on the stars.
"Scared of turning into stone from all this deep talk? Absolutely." A faint laugh. Then softer: "Yes. Of course I am."
Bruno looked at them both.
"Fear isn't weakness. It's part of strength. Just… don't let it lead you."
Seralyne turned her head toward him.
"Do you always talk like that?"
"Only when it matters."
The night stayed quiet. The stars listened too.
On that rooftop sat three different souls. Three different stories. Three pieces of the same truth: the weight of moving forward without all the answers.
And maybe… the beginning of something new.
---
"Doesn't matter what's coming," Tila said finally, a spark in her eyes. "We'll find a way through it."
But deep down, they all knew this was only the beginning.
---
Far below, in the drowned halls of an ancient fortress where magic clung to stone like mold and the air breathed back, a mage knelt before a great obsidian mirror.
But the mirror didn't show reflections.
It showed echoes of trapped souls.
"They've cried. They've screamed. Now… they obey."
His fingers — long, carved with runes seared into flesh — traced the final seal.
At the center, a humanoid shape writhed. Too big to be just a man. Too small to be just a beast. Inside it, twenty-one souls — men, women, children, beasts, warriors, mages — all fused, all fighting, all alive.
"They called this a mistake… I call it evolution," the mage whispered. "This time… there won't be a clean choice, Bruno."
The fused body rose, eyes flickering in fractured colors. One voice moaned. Another laughed. Another just repeated a single name:
"Bruno."
Like it remembered. Like it knew.
Codename: Fragmented Eden.
The mage smiled as the control crystal pulsed behind him.
"If the Summoned Warrior wants to save these souls… he'll have to kill me first."
---
But the trials weren't over.
Not even close.
---
Heavy boots struck the dirt road with quiet purpose.
Not the weight of a body — the weight of a past.
Her eyes were sharp. Calculating. Forged in steel. The kind of eyes that judged before words were spoken.
She had asked in three villages, two taverns, and even an old blind storyteller who traded fables for bread.
All gave the same name.
A man. Silent. Withdrawn. Strong.
And always alive.
That's what she wanted: the alive.
The last survivor.
She remembered every face from that expedition.
Men and women who knew they might not return.
Among them — her father.
He carried his axe on his back and a proud smile on his lips. "We'll free the people," he said. "We'll crush the Iron Wolf Guild the right way."
They went.
Only one came back.
Cut. Blood-soaked. Carrying the guild's shattered sigil.
But no body.
No answers.
Just a stare that said nothing mattered anymore.
As if all of this was inevitable.
She never accepted that.
Never would.
So she forged her own path.
Trained. Listened. Learned.
And when the pieces fit — she set out.
Now, she was close.
They said the man lived alone, near a quiet village. Doing small things.
With a past too big to fit there.
She wanted to see his eyes.
To know if he remembered.
If he felt guilt.
If he was hiding something.
Because deep down, she suspected something no one else dared whisper:
Maybe her father's killer wasn't from the guild.
Maybe he wore the same face as the man who survived.
And she had to know before she spoke…
Or swung the hammer.
---
The horizon burned orange as dawn broke. On the rooftop, Bruno, Tila, and Seralyne traded looks that said more than words.
Tila scowled at Seralyne:
"You're trying to outshine me, huh? Playing nice, but I see you."
Seralyne smirked, voice like silk:
"Jealous, Tila? How adorable."
Bruno gave a half-smile, trying to cut the tension:
"You two have bigger problems to worry about than this…"
Kaerlin, perched on Bruno's shoulder, whispered in a tone too sweet and sharp:
"Oh, Bruno… don't pretend you don't feel the sparks. I've seen this play before. If you keep hesitating, this love triangle turns into a square — or worse."
Bruno cleared his throat, muttering under his breath:
"Kaerlin. Only I can hear you, remember?"
"I know, I know… but someone has to stir the pot, sweetheart."
Bruno sighed, eyes lifting to the rising sun.
"You two planning to corner me up here until I jump?"
"If you jump, we jump," Seralyne said lazily. "Tila first — she's stronger. I'll follow… with style."
"Weird way of saying you like someone," Tila laughed.
"It's the only way I know."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was… good.
Honest.
Down below, the village slept.
Above, three hearts stayed awake, each wrestling with their own storms.
Bruno stared at the sky. That silence helped him breathe. Almost made him forget the shadow looming in his chest.
Almost.
Kaerlin leaned closer, voice soft as silk:
"You're opening up too much, Bruno."
"They deserve it."
"And you?"