Dusk thundered across the snow-covered plains, his paws kicking up white dust as he galloped toward the southern border of the Human Kingdom. Atop his back sat Leon, his expression calm and unreadable, his eyes lost in quiet thought.
Though the sky was growing brighter, a curtain of dark clouds still loomed over the twin suns, casting a dim shadow over the snowy expanse. The snowfall had ceased, but the world remained cloaked in cold silence.
Leon slowly lifted his hand and balanced a thin wooden stick upon his palm. Releasing his grip ever so slightly, he allowed the stick to begin falling southward—but before it could tumble completely, he caught it again.
’Still south.’ Leon thought for a second before opening the map.
’A forest in front of a white-dotted lake… But why is the forest drawn upside-down? And what are these white dots in the lake?’ Leon narrowed his eyes in confusion, studying the strange map markings with growing curiosity.
Screech—!
“What the-!?”
Dusk came to an abrupt halt, jerking Leon from his concentration.
Sniff-Sniff
“Master… Blood. A very strong stench—it’s coming from that direction,” Dusk said, his voice grim as his gaze fixed on a distant wooden gate.
Etched in faded, weatherworn letters above the gate were the words:
“Truvale Checkpost.”
Leon read the sign aloud with a flat tone as he tucked the map back into his inventory and slid down from Dusk’s back.
“I can feel it, Master… death. Thick and heavy in the air. Thousands have been killed here,” Dusk muttered, his fur bristling as if gripped by invisible dread.
“I heard the rumors… A monster wave tore through this place days ago,” Leon replied, his tone still neutral as he stepped toward the gate.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the foul stench hit him like a hammer.
*Sniff*
“Fucking hell… What is wrong with this smell?” Leon coughed, yanking out his handkerchief and pressing it against his nose.
“The cold’s preserving the bodies. That’s why the stench hasn’t spread further. Had this happened in another season, the entire kingdom would be choking on it,” Dusk explained, his voice low.
As they entered deeper into the checkpost, rows of bodies came into view—lined up, covered in white cloth, stretching across both sides of the ruined outpost.
’This is a massacre… Just like Justin said, they lied about the monsters. Not a single monster corpse is in sight,’ Leon thought, walking toward one of the shrouded bodies. With a slow hand, he lifted the frozen cloth.
“Fucking hell…” he muttered, his eyes shutting briefly at the sight before him.
The corpse was butchered. Her stomach torn open, heart ripped out, limbs mangled, and her lower jaw crushed beyond recognition. She had once been a woman—now, she was nothing more than a horror frozen in time.
Leon gently pulled the cloth back over her, covering the grisly sight.
“What the hell could do something like this?” he asked, his tone tight as he turned to Dusk.
Sniff-Sniff
“I don’t know, Master… But I still smell fresh blood. It’s coming from over there,” Dusk said, already padding toward the other side of the outpost.
Leon followed—and froze.
An elven corpse lay sprawled in the snow, a gleaming golden bow clutched in his hands. The sight triggered a flicker of recognition in Leon’s eyes.
“This guy…” Leon stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.
“You know him, Master?” Dusk asked.
“The third son of Freya Virellium… Serandor Virellium, if I remember correctly,” Leon said, inspecting the mutilated corpse.
“The elf prince? The one you fought at Eagle’s Eye Checkpost?” Dusk’s tone was tinged with disbelief.
“Yes.” Leon’s voice grew tense.
’What the hell could do this to an elf prince? And what was he even doing here?’ Leon wondered, his eyes scanning Serandor’s ravaged body.
“Master… more elf corpses,” Dusk called from farther ahead.
Leon strode over and stopped cold.
Hundreds of elven soldiers lay dead, their bodies strewn in chaotic patterns. Blood stained the snow beneath them.
“We should leave, Master. Staying here isn’t safe,” Dusk warned.
“I can’t agree more with you, Dusk.” Leon spoke with a serious expression. “Just give me a second.”
He ran back to Serandor’s body and knelt beside him, eyeing the exquisite bow.
“This won’t be of any use to you anymore,” Leon said as he gripped the bow. But Serandor’s fingers were frozen tight around the string.
“Let go of the bow… motherfucker,” Leon muttered, yanking with full strength.
Snap—!
The taut string sliced clean through the elf’s frozen hand as Leon pried the bow free.
The moment he did, the runes and embedded gems across the bow shimmered to life—glowing with ethereal light.
[Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Stealing from a corpse?]
A voice echoed in Leon’s mind, stern and disdainful.
“Hmm…?” Leon turned, scanning his surroundings.
[What are you looking around for, stupid kid? Not like you can hear me anyway. Why am I even talking to you.
Just don’t sell me to some cheap—]
“Is that you talking?” Leon interrupted, staring at the bow.
[W-What?! You can hear me?!]
“I can.”
[But… that’s impossible. No one has ever been able to hear me.]
“I’m hearing you and wondering, why can a bow speak ?”
[I am no ordinary bow, kid. I am a Divine Artifact. My name is Killian, the Fourth High Judgement.]
“That’s a long name,” Leon smirked, and activated his skill.
<Inspect>
[Name: Killian]
[Type: Divine Artifact]
[Rank: SS]
[Title: {The Fourth High Judgement}]
[Description: Killian is one of the seven divine artifacts scattered across the world after the death of Goddess Ikola. Only those with pure and courageous hearts can wield the full power of Killian.]
’An SS-ranked weapon?! So this is what he was using to fire those enchanted arrows back at Eagle’s Eye Checkpost…’ Leon thought in shock.
[You can talk to me… but you can’t use me, kid. I sense selfishness in you. You care only for yourself and those you love. Just like my previous owner.]
“Who wants to use a talking bow?” Leon said flatly. “I’ll just trade you for food.”
[W-What?! Trade me?! For food?! I am a Divine Artifact! You should be groveling to please me! Try to amuse me and I might let you use me for—]
Leon cut the bow off mid-sentence—by stuffing it straight into his inventory.
“Try to amuse a bow… what a joke.” He scoffed. “Maybe Gerald can dismantle it and use the parts to upgrade Nyxter.”
Without another glance, he returned to Dusk and climbed onto his back.
Once more, he placed the guiding stick on his palm. It tilted downward—toward the south.
“We will keep going south, Dusk,” Leon ordered calmly.
“Yes, Master.” Dusk replied as he started running south once again.
