"What?" Elarien exclaimed.

"Yeah," Edward confirmed.

He had just told her about the shopkeeper—about how the man claimed to know something about Vael, but wanted the hound of the Nightbane Howler in return for information.

Elarien's brows furrowed.

"Do you think he's telling the truth?"

Edward studied her, noticing how her expression shifted—sharp eyes softening into thought.

"No idea," she finally said, "but Nightbane Howler…" Her voice trailed off as though the name itself carried weight.

Edward raised a brow. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just… it won't be too easy. It's a Yellow Stage creature."

"Yellow Stage…" Edward repeated under his breath. The term didn't faze him much. It wouldn't be his hardest fight—far from it. At his current rank, he and his summons should be able to handle it. And there was also Elarien, she didn't exactly seem like the fragile type.

"That won't be an issue for us," Edward said with quiet confidence.

Elarien arched a brow at his certainty but didn't argue.

"Still—" she began, clearly ready to warn him about something, but Edward cut her off before she could finish.

"Let's just get that hound and see what he has to say. We've wasted enough time walking in circles."

Seeing the determination in his expression, Elarien lingered for a moment, then gave a single firm nod.

Without another word, they left the calm safety of the secluded village behind.

The forest swallowed them whole. Elarien moved through the trees with the ease of someone who had done this all her life—each step deliberate, no movement wasted. Edward, on the other hand, was less graceful. He muttered curses under his breath every time his boot snagged a root or slipped on moss, the uneven terrain testing both his balance and his patience.

Still, he couldn't help but notice something strange. The deeper they went, the quieter it became. The melodic chirping of birds faded away first, followed by the hum of insects. The silence grew thick, almost unnatural. Even the wind seemed hesitant to pass through.

The trees too loomed taller now, their branches twisting together like dark veins, blocking out most of the moonlight. The air smelled of damp earth and something metallic—almost like blood.

"Quiet..." Elarien whispered, her voice barely audible. Her frown stood out against her pale skin. "It's oddly quiet."

"Is that… a bad thing?" Edward asked, lowering his tone to match hers.

She didn't answer, but the look on her face made it clear that it wasn't exactly the best thing.

Still, they pressed forward. The sound of their footsteps, crunching leaves and shifting twigs, was the only thing that dared disturb the silence.

Minutes passed, maybe more.

Then, after what felt like forever, Elarien's hand shot up, signalling Edward to stop.

He froze, eyes scanning the dense woods.

That's when he saw it—a streak of red across the ground. It glistened faintly in the dim light.

"Fresh blood," he recognised it immediately.

They followed the trail, moving slowly. Each few steps revealed more crimson splatters, streaked across roots and bark, leading deeper between the trees.

And then they saw it.

A wolf-like creature lay sprawled in a pool of its own blood. Its body was massive—its ribcage rising and falling shallowly, though it looked on the verge of death. Thick black fur covered most of its form, though patches along its sides had turned a dull grey. Its jaws were long and cruel, its claws embedded deep into the soil as if it had fought to its last breath.

"Nightbane Howler," Elarien muttered, her voice low, almost reverent.

Edward's brows shot up.

"How? What are the chances that someone killed just the creature we were looking for? Unless—"

His thought shattered as a sharp thrum cut through the air.

He spun just in time to see the arrow slicing toward him—too fast to dodge. But before it could reach him, a wall of ice burst into existence, the arrow shattering against it with a metallic crack.

"Ambush," Edward muttered under his breath, the realisation finishing his earlier thought. His hand instinctively moved toward his weapon.

Elarien's eyes swept the tree line, her posture shifting into combat readiness. Then came the laughter—low, mocking and echoing through the forest. And what's worse, it came from more than one direction.

"Show yourself!" Elarien demanded, her tone cold and commanding.

And they did.

Four figures stepped out from between the trees, each from a different direction, surrounding them. Three were elves, but the fourth... was not.

Edward's eyes narrowed. "A human?"

"What do we have here?" one of the elves called out. He had short silver hair and green eyes that glinted with mischief.

"An elf and a human working together? Now there's a rare sight."

Edward's expression darkened.

"You're one to talk," he said, his gaze flicking between the elf and the lone human standing among them.

The elf chuckled, his grin widening. "Ah, well, the Church of the Crimson Oath doesn't discriminate—"

"No," Edward interrupted coldly. "They just focus on killing innocent people."

The elf's smile faltered, replaced by a sneer. He opened his mouth to reply, but he never got the chance, as a shard of ice, as large as a spear, tore through the air—fast and deadly.

"Enough talking," Elarien said, her voice like frost, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. The shard struck a nearby tree, missing the elf's head by inches but embedding deep enough to make the trunk tremble.

The forest erupted into motion.

The attackers drew their weapons—bows, daggers, and blades that glowed faintly with mana. One of them leapt forward, but Edward was ready.

From the shadows around them, countless of his summons emerged—flickering silhouettes of living darkness.

Shadow Reaper, Shadow Knights, and dozens of Shadow Soldiers materialised, their eyes glowing faintly crimson in the gloom. The air itself seemed to bend around them as they surrounded the attackers.

Each of the attackers, and even Elarien, was taken by surprise as the lone human summoned what looked like an army born of darkness itself.

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