Klint stood in silence, staring at the remains of the creature. The Settler. What once looked like an ordinary chair now lay broken across the floor, its form no longer able to hold shape.
"So… they don't all fight head-on."
He exhaled slowly and sat down—this time on the ground. For a brief moment, relief settled in as he processed what he had just done. He had killed his first monster, and the realization carried a strange weight.
But it didn't last. Klint's eyes shifted toward the door as the thought settled in. The night had only just begun, and whatever came next wouldn't be as simple.
A creak echoed through the room as the door slowly opened. Klint instantly turned, his body tensing, only to pause when he realized what stood there.
Not a monster.
A man.
"You're back," Klint said.
Karter stepped inside, brushing dust from his coat as if nothing unusual had happened. "Ah… I see you're up and running again, young man," he said casually, before stopping mid-step.
His gaze sharpened. "Something about you… is different." He looked at Klint carefully—too carefully—like he was trying to see through him rather than at him.
"What happened?"
Klint hesitated, then glanced toward the broken remains of the chair. "I can explain. It wasn't for nothing," he said, his tone steady despite the tension creeping in.
Karter followed his gaze and remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a quiet breath. "I see…"
"Thank you."
The tension eased slightly, though it didn't disappear entirely. Karter straightened and spoke again. "Well, what are you going to do now? You don't have anywhere to go, do you?"
A brief pause followed before he added, "You know… I always wished I had a son." He gave a faint smile. "You're welcome here anytime."
Klint didn't hesitate. "I'm not living with you, old man."
Karter burst into laughter, clearly amused. "It's been a while since someone called me that," he said, shaking his head. "Still… the offer stands."
Klint picked up the book from earlier, his expression shifting as a thought surfaced. "There's something I wanted to ask," he said, holding it up slightly. "Why are some pages… ripped out?"
Karter froze—not visibly, not dramatically—but something in his eyes changed. A subtle shift that didn't go unnoticed.
"Some things… are not meant to be known."
Silence followed. Klint didn't push further.
"I'm heading out."
Karter turned sharply. "You're leaving? At night?" A brief pause, then his tone hardened. "Are you stupid?"
"I'm a hunter now."
"…You're what?"
But Klint had already moved. He stepped outside and immediately broke into a run, the cold night air hitting him as the weight of everything settled deeper.
The night felt heavier. Oppressive. "I need a way to deal with the others," he muttered, his mind racing. "The Lurker… I understand. The Settler… manageable. But the Luminarch…"
His thoughts cut off abruptly as that familiar feeling returned. The sensation of being watched crawled up his spine.
Klint stopped. "So… you're back."
This time, he didn't hesitate. "I see you."
The shadow twisted violently before tearing itself free from the darkness. The Lurker appeared, weaker now, exposed and unstable.
It lunged.
Klint moved first. A quick, precise strike ended it before it could even react. The creature collapsed, its form breaking apart as if it had never fully existed.
"Not so tough… when you're seen."
For a brief moment, confidence surfaced. Then—he noticed it. Across the street, two faint, glowing eyes stared back at him.
Klint didn't step back. Instead, he walked forward. "What are you?"
A voice answered, soft and distorted. "Do you seek power… young man?"
Klint felt it immediately. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. But he didn't stop.
"Yes."
Silence followed before five objects appeared before him without warning. No movement. No explanation. They were simply there.
"A choice," the voice said. "Choose one."
Klint stepped closer, examining them carefully. A bracelet. A ring. A cloak. Something resembling a modern weapon.
And—
A dark, shifting object.
His gaze lingered on it. Something about it felt wrong in a way he couldn't explain.
Then a whisper echoed—not from outside, but from within.
Take it.
Klint's breathing slowed as his thoughts dulled. Without thinking, he reached out—and took it.
The moment his hand touched it, the world twisted violently. Pain exploded through his body as the object dissolved and forced itself into him.
Klint collapsed instantly. Blood spilled from his mouth.
"What… is this…?"
His vision blurred as darkness crept in.
"Is he dead or something?"
A familiar voice cut through the haze.
Klint's eyes slowly opened to see Arthur standing over him, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face. "There you are. Not the best first night… but you made it."
Klint tried to sit up, his body still weak. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
Klint paused. "…Nothing."
Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly. "Something's off about you."
Klint stood up, steadying himself. "I'm just tired."
"Yeah… makes sense."
But Arthur didn't look convinced.
Klint turned and walked away. The night felt different now—quieter, yet heavier, like something unseen had settled into it.
He reached Karter's house and knocked. This time, the door opened immediately.
"You're back," Karter said, but the moment he saw Klint, his expression changed.
"So… you accepted it."
Klint frowned. "Accepted what?"
Karter stepped aside. "Come in."
Klint entered and sat down as silence filled the room.
"The Merchant," Karter said at last. "A being that appears to those with… potential. For those that have a strong will."
He looked directly at Klint. "You shouldn't have approached it."
"You know about it?"
"I'm surprised you're alive."
Klint clenched his fist slightly. "Nothing is free in this world… is it?"
Karter shook his head. "Even things that seem free… cost far more than you expect."
"What did you choose?"
Klint explained everything—the dark object, the pain, the way it forced itself into him.
Karter listened carefully, then leaned back. "Interesting… I have no idea what you took."
Silence followed.
Then—a voice.
Inside Klint's head.
Kill him.
His body froze instantly.
Kill the old man… and I'll grant you any wish you seek.
"What…?" Klint spoke out loud before he could stop himself.
Karter frowned. "What is it?"
"…Nothing."
Silence returned once again.
Karter studied him for a moment. "You never told me your name."
A brief pause.
"David… David Joseph."
Karter smiled faintly. "David, huh…" He stood up. "Are you hungry?"
Klint didn't answer. His stomach did.
Karter chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."
But Klint wasn't listening. Not fully.
Because deep inside, that voice remained—waiting.
Klint lay on the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling as the silence of the room pressed in around him. The events of the night replayed in fragments, but none of them felt as heavy as the presence still lingering within him.
Then he fell asleep....
Klint stood in the darkness, the air around him unnaturally still.
Footsteps echoed.
Slow.
Measured.
He turned.
Arthur walked toward him.
"…You again," Klint said.
Arthur stopped a few steps away, arms crossed like usual.
"Not quite."
A pause.
Something felt wrong.
Klint's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
Arthur smiled.
But it came a second too late.
"You already know," he said. "You felt it when you killed it."
Silence.
Klint didn't respond.
Arthur stepped closer.
"When you hunt…" he continued, "you don't just survive."
A pause.
"You take."
Klint's expression hardened slightly.
"…Take what?"
Arthur tilted his head.
"Everything."
The word lingered.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
Klint felt it again—that clarity. That precision.
"…And the cost?"
Arthur's smile faded.
For the first time—
his eyes didn't match his face.
"You already paid a part of it," he said quietly.
Klint's chest tightened.
"When you should've died…"
A pause.
"You didn't."
The air grew heavier.
"So something else did."
Klint's fingers curled slightly.
"…Explain."
Arthur leaned in.
Close.
Too close.
"Your soul isn't whole anymore."
Silence.
"It won't stay that way."
Klint's breathing slowed.
"…And if it keeps happening?"
Arthur smiled again.
This time—perfectly.
"Then one day…"
A pause.
"You won't be able to.."
Then Klint wakes up "it was a... dream"