Byung retreated to his chambers, the heavy wooden door groaning shut behind him with a finality that muffled the distant celebrations still echoing through the corridors. The air inside was cooler, carrying the familiar scent of damp stone and the faint metallic tang of blood from his armor, which he began unbuckling with stiff, aching fingers. His ribs protested with every movement, sharp stabs of pain lancing through his torso like hot needles, but he pushed through it, the discomfort now a constant companion he had learned to ignore. The torch on his makeshift desk flickered, and the room felt almost peaceful after the chaos of the day—the duel, he had pushed his body to its limit and was receiving the consequence of such action.

But then his nose caught something lurking in his room, it wasn't a familiar scent either.

Byung froze, his hand halfway to the buckle on his thigh plate. The scent was subtle, barely there, like the ghost of smoke after a fire has been doused. It wasn't goblin. It wasn't orc either. It was... nothing. A void where a smell should be, an absence so deliberate it felt wrong.

His evolved senses, sharpened by his new form, picked up on the anomaly like a wolf catching the faintest whiff of prey on the wind.

"Whoever you are," Byung said, his voice low and steady, hand dropping to the bone dagger still sheathed at his belt, "show yourself. Now."

Silence hung for a heartbeat, broken only by the torch's soft crackle. Then, from the shadows pooled in the far corner near the bedpost, a figure emerged. Not stepped—emerged, as if peeling away from the darkness itself, the transition so seamless it made Byung's skin prickle with unease. The dwarf was short, barely four feet tall, but his presence filled the room.

His skin was dark as polished obsidian, gleaming faintly in the light, and his red eyes glowed with an inner fire that seemed to pierce straight through Byung's skull. He wore blackened steel armor, intricate and form-fitting, sickly green, and a tattered cloak of hides that smelled of deep earth and something older—something that made Byung's instincts scream danger.

The dwarf had managed to sneak into a camp filled with goblins who had a superior sense of smell, beings who could track prey by scent alone across distance of forest and stone. It should have been impossible. But this dwarf was different—he had masked his scent, or rather, he had no scent at all. No sweat, no trace whatsoever.

It was as if he existed outside the natural order, a ghost wearing flesh. The only reason Byung could detect him was because he was no longer an average goblin. His evolution had pushed his senses beyond the norm, tuning him to detect not just presence but absence, the void left by something deliberately hidden.

The dwarf's red eyes scanned Byung from head to toe, lingering on the bruised neck, the dented armor, the blood-crusted wounds that still wept faintly. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in those glowing orbs—fascination, perhaps, or recognition. He circled slowly, boots making no sound on the stone floor, his gaze dissecting Byung like a scholar examining a rare artifact. The air grew colder with each step, the torch's flame guttering as if recoiling from the dwarf's presence.

Byung recognized him immediately. The wanted poster flashed in his mind—dark-skinned dwarf, red eyes, dangerous beyond measure, bounty high enough to buy a small army.

"You," Byung said, voice tight. "What are you doing here?"

The dwarf paused, his inspection complete, and muttered under his breath in a language that sounded like grinding stone.

"So that thing chose you," he said, the words barely audible, more to himself than to Byung. His red eyes narrowed, glowing brighter for a moment, as if peering into something beyond the physical—through Byung's skin, into his bones, his blood, the system itself.

"What are you talking about?" Byung demanded, stepping forward despite the instinct screaming at him to retreat. His hand tightened on the dagger hilt, the bone cool against his palm, the venom-tipped teeth glinting faintly. "Chose me? Chose me for what?"

The dwarf's gaze snapped to his, the red eyes boring into Byung's with an intensity that made his chest tighten. But he didn't respond. Instead, he turned away, his cloak swirling like living shadow, and moved toward the door with deliberate, unhurried steps.

"Look for me," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the stone walls themselves.

"At the forest just beyond this region. Past the orc territories, where the trees grow black and the ground turns to ash," The dwarf told him.

Byung's breath caught. That was the edge of the dark continent—the forbidden lands where nightmares walked and races thought extinct still dwelled in shadowed realms. Byung still didn't have all the information regarding the dark continent, just fragments.

"Why would I go there?" Byung asked, his voice hardening. "What do you want from me?"

The dwarf paused at the door, his hand resting on the wood, fingers splayed like claws. He turned his head slightly, just enough for one glowing red eye to fix on Byung over his shoulder. The silence stretched, before he spoke again.

"Do you not wish for your sword?"

The question hung in the room, heavy as a curse. Byung's mind raced, confusion and suspicion warring with a sudden, inexplicable pull. His sword? How did the dwarf know about the goblin's king sword?

"What sword?" Byung demanded, stepping forward again, ignoring the pain flaring in his ribs. "Explain yourself!" Byung knew he had to play dumb to see how much this dwarf knew.

But the dwarf was already moving, the door swinging open silently. He took a step out the door but left Byung with a final grace. His voice drifted back, faint as a whisper carried on a distant wind.

"Seek me in the black forest. If you survive the journey, you'll have your answers. And your blade."

Then he was gone, the door swinging shut with a soft click that echoed like a tomb sealing. Byung stood frozen, his breath coming in shallow gasps, the room suddenly feeling too small, the walls pressing in. His hand trembled on the dagger hilt, adrenaline spiking through his system, the cold clarity of danger sharpening his thoughts. The dwarf had infiltrated his stronghold, slipped past every goblin, every orc, every guard, and delivered a message this message to him.

But Byung could retain the one tool that would make him whole.

"It is all coming together."

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