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The ground shook. Whickers of horses and the calm breeze of night brushed Zayne’s chest as he wobbled on top of a wooden cart, accompanied by the creaks of rigid wood. He couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes, but his hearing worked, so he listened.

“A massacre,” a man’s voice cracked between the trots of horses and the sound of wooden wheels grinding against dirt and the rasps of steel. “So many dead. Makes sense why the Wraiths are so interested in the corpses.”

Wraiths… Don’t tell me, the death wraiths? That word reverberated inside his mind, lingering in his thoughts. Wait, Aren’t I-

“You think the containment force is doing much? The monsters breached outside the cities already, at this point, it’ll take months to rid of them all. I heard the rumors; the monsters that fell from the skies are not something new adventurers can handle. Most are at least within F-3 Rank.” Another voice answered, coming from his left. He sounded hoarse with hints of bitterness escaping along his voice.

“Well, what else is the kingdom supposed to do? You can’t just teleport a bunch of adventurers from the inner continents right away, you know how expensive that shit costs.” The first voice resumed, “And it’s not like we’re capable of handling those monsters either, let’s hurry back to the spot before we meet any of their patrols, and worse, monsters. This job is risky enough as is.”

Zayne forced himself to move, groan, open his eyes, anything, but all he managed was a rasp of a whimper. So much of their conversation bounced off his mind.

“You hear that? Someone’s awake.”

The cart jerked to a stop. Neighing horses followed, then, silence. “Shh… Shut up. Damned charm spell, didn’t the man say it silenced these horses too?”

“Wait, over there! Do you see it?”

“Wolves? No… these are- Ring the alarms! Shit, they’re attracted to the smell of the blood.”

Zayne heard the panic in their voices, yet their bellows were ceded by the rough howling wreathing their position. He forced his eyes open, and nothing but the intense mist and the night sky greeted him. Pulling his eyes down, Zayne gasped in horror, ringed around him was the stench of dead bodies, a few of the faces he’d even recognized; the people of Burg.

Clamors of steel against meat quarreled the night, trailed by the whines of creatures and the roars of men. Zayne’s limbs strained from his wounds, his lips chaffing from the intense thirst burning his throat. With a frigid whimper, he got himself up and scanned his immediate surroundings.

Flares of torches lit his vision, shadowing the splattering blood from the bite of a creature not any larger than a wolf. Their red eyes and fangs the size of his forearm gave their real identity away; Plains Wargs, Zayne cursed as he scrabbled himself up, yet his legs rocked, collapsing him on the spot. Not due to his weakened limbs, which felt like limp sausages, but from the coating of blood pooling from the remnants of the wounded, or in most likely cases—the dead, which caused the soles of his feet to skid and lose their grip. A red paint drenched his arms on the underside of his back, but he kept his gaze steady and focus on the now; the incoming wave of the innumerable wargs approaching from the dark of the night.

Men felled as Zayne scampered to the edges of his cart, followed by the screams of dying men that seemed to carol with one another. “Too many! Shit! Rufus! Heliot!” He heard one yelling from his back, “We have to run! Where are you? Someone used a weakness spell on us. Shit, this isn’t just about the wargs…”

A man rushed with a torn vest, blood pouring from all his collected wounds as he leaned near Zayne’s cart. “Everyone… Everyone’s dead? Sh-Shit… We’re not ready for any of this…”

Zayne reached his hand out, resting just beside the injured man, “H-Help…” He strained his voice, barely a whisper.

The man turned his head aside, looking shocked more than anything else, “What? You? You were supposed to be dead!”

Zayne pried himself up, but his limbs betrayed his will. “Dead? W… What’s going.. on?”

“What else? We’re all about to die!” He spat, cussing the mist and the cold of the night, “I knew this was a mistake. To go behind the kingdom, and doing all this-”

The hurried taps on the floor caused him to shift his attention away, into the deep mist of the night, “It’s coming!” He grappled his spear, Zayne noticed his left arm limping from the deep gash on his left shoulder, and his right arm trembled from his lack of strength to keep it steady. “We-we’re dead. All of us.” Zayne couldn’t see well with all the darkness, but he knew the terror from his quivering voice.

A light growl and a mist of breath breached into his view. A pair of red eyes glowered upon them with unrestrained hunger. Its fangs, dark from blood, glazed with drool, and it snarled when it saw the trembling man’s cowering figure.

Zayne’s heart sank. He was supposed to die, yet, somehow found his way back into the living, only to be greeted with the visage of death looming ever closer still. A suffocating weight crushed his heart ailed with rigor, and uttering a single word proved impossible for him. A flash of his death replayed, then-

The warg struck first. Its figure lurched, trailing white mist as it chewed the air above the other guy’s head. Zayne moved his head along, mirroring his actions even though the warg was a few steps away. His spear struck its underside, but the man lacked the strength to push past its dense fur, and it recoiled, using the cart as leverage to leap away from the man.

“Damn it…” His voice trailed into silence. “I shouldn’t have taken this job. Should’ve been drinking back in fucking Basin, damn it all!”

The warg resumed its attack, keeping an eye on his pointed spear. “GRAHH!” Zayne watched the fight, trying to contribute someway, somehow, but he was too weak to do anything. His eyes searched the cart for anything usable; a weapon or a rock, anything at all that served as a distraction.

Zayne shifted close when he saw the glints of darkened metal, A dagger? A spear? He thought as he yanked his arm to reach out, and when he felt the touch of a scabbard, the pulled a sheath of a short dagger out from the waist of a dead adventurer, I can help, He rasped, pushing himself past his limits, veins pumping with pure adrenaline. He leaped past the edge of the cart, crashing into the warg held up by the other guy who was screaming for his dear life. His stab couldn’t be any weaker; but he chose the right spot to jab into, its red eyes. The warg whined, tumbling and thrashing about on the floor. Its flailing movements attempted to wrench Zayne’s dagger away, but he gritted his teeth and kept his grip, unwilling to let go.

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Specks of dirt filled his eyelids as he toiled to maintain his grip. “Sir!” He yelled. Where is he?

On the corners of his eyes, he watched the other man run with the carriage, the rain of hooves trailed his escape. Wait… Don’t go- The warg yanked its head to the side, flinging Zayne’s listless body as the cart faded into darkness, led by the man who he’d tried to help. “W-Wait!!!”

He coughed, he wheezed, he wailed. A clutch of ardent rage pressed on his chest, pushing him to get up. His eyes widened, not in fear, but with an erratic coldness washing over his irises, frigid iciness which kept him sane. Sane enough to watch the lurching figure of his assailant, snout bloodied with fresh blood, and eyes filled with nothing but salivating hunger. Fear had long escaped Zayne at this point as he simply watched it all happen. None of his limbs responded well to his commands. Time seemed to freeze.

A weight slammed against his chest, sending him barreling on the floor. The world churned as the fall had rendered his vision to nothing but a swirling mess. His hands crunched the mushy soil as he yanked himself up, but all he pulled was the dirt itself. Blood drenched the muck; Zayne didn’t know how much blood his body had left, not after all that had happened, but for some reason, gods willed that he remained awake.

The warg sniffed its exposed wounds, ignoring its stabbed hole where its left eye used to be, then snarled at Zayne’s limp figure. Even his willpower had depleted. Why this? He cursed whoever deemed his fate to be so. He glowered at the bloodied warg, then noticed something else appearing inside his view; the same mysterious man who appeared in Kate’s tavern, trotting beside the half-blind warg, resting one of his arms against its head, rendering it mute and innocuous. “What a shame. Luck seemed to elude you again.” His voice trembled, dark and moody, light and boisterous, all at the same time.

Zayne kept his gaze steady, “W… What do yo-“ He coughed, launching a mouthful of viscous blood outside, “Who… Who are you? Are you one of the death wraiths?”

The mysterious man, scratched the warg’s temples, “Who am I? Now, that’s a… terribly difficult question to answer. I go by many names. But… knowing the answer won’t benefit you.” He spoke, his voice the sound of steel grated with human voice, “But one thing is for sure, do not ever relate me to those monsters.” Scorn echoed from his helmet. From his tone, no sane human wouldn’t think he was involved with the wraiths at some level.

He raised his arm high, then Zayne heard the light footsteps of a dozen or so wargs, all circling their location. Is he controlling them? He concluded with a furious look. The man sniggered at Zayne’s glowering eyes, “Don’t be so furious, I’m not the one causing all of this. The invasion and all this will happen regardless of my appearance. Well, I did mess with their brawn a little with a simple weakness spell, who’d expect they fall this quickly?” He laughed, gesturing at the carnage circling them, “What happened to these wargs is a simple charm spell, like the ones they used to the horses that pulls the carriages. You don’t think it’s weird that all the wargs attacked and the horses opted to stay?”

The steel-worn knight clenched his left arm, resulting in a whine from the warg, then its whines turned to wails as he crushed its skull into pieces. “I sensed a compatibility between you and the core I put inside of you.” His bloodied arm hovered slightly above the dead warg’s body. At first, Zayne witness nothing worthy of note, but after a second passed, a bright light emanated between the outstretched fingers of his hand, and as it dimmed, Zayne saw a prismatic gem, transparent in color, pinched between his index and thumb fingers. His dark steel glinted under the dim ambient light the gem radiated, then all fell to darkness as its radiance faded. “A monster gem, hardly the first time you’ve seen this, assume?” The man said, “Well, don’t despair, you are no longer coreless, but your core is a little... peculiar. You have methods to grow stronger- no, even to surpass all the others, if you play your cards right.”

He appraised the glinting gem, “You’re quite lucky, this one carries an essence gem.” He approached Zayne, extending the gem, and held it near his lips. “Here. Eat it and you’ll understand.”

“Eat a gem?” Zayne eyed the gem with mild interest. While he didn’t trust this enigma of a person one bit, he didn’t have much of a choice either. “Fine…” he said with a begrudging acceptance, then chomped it down without a single ounce of hesitation. The gem traveled down his gullet, tasting like nothing and everything at the same time. A strange aftertaste lingered.

[A monster gem is consumed, [White-plains warg]. You gained 10 essences.]

[You obtained an essence gem: White: plains warg - grade 0, slot required: 1, +1 Brawn, +2 Endurance.]

[Essence is consumed to activate the core. You have 0 essences remaining.]

“[Heal]” The man raised his arm. A circle of unknown words and patterns emerged a few inches outside his palm the size of his head, glowing green. The same glow emerged beneath Zayne’s feet as it vanished.

An overwhelming tide of relief washed from his stomach, flowing through all of his veins and rousing every end of his nerves. His eyes popped wide open as he watched his wounds closing, enough to cease his bleeding, but the process stopped just short of recovering himself completely. He wheezed as he spat another gulp of blood stuck inside his mouth, “W… What is-“

“Stay calm. I cast a healing spell on you.” The dark knight said, Zayne could sense his smile even if his face were obscured, “That’s a good sign. The core is responding well with you.” A laugh escaped the holes of his helmet, “You are almost a perfect match. Incredible.”

Zayne observed the man’s mannerisms, then scanned his tattered figure once again. Drenched from the top to the bottom with stale blood, Zayne sniffed the smell of rot emanating from every inch of his skin, and his hair, slick with oils and dirt and blood, itched his scalp as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened to him, “What is all this? You said that I have a core, but-“

“Technically, yes. You do have a core. But yours is...” He clicked his tongue, “-artificial. You’d do well to keep the nature of your core a secret.”

Zayne brushed the dried blood off the torn holes in his shirt, “I don’t understand. Artificial core? As in, fake?”

“Not quite. Close your eyes and pry into your soul.” The man said, “You remembered the exercise the academy taught you? The one where you close your eyes and breathe in, then try to find that one orb deep inside your soul? That one.”

How did he know that? Zayne immediately understood. Of course, all the times he’d tried, he’d end up staring at nothing but his heartbeat and utter blackness. He took a deep breath, shut his eyes, then searched deep inside his soul, and…

There it was. An orb, smaller than a pebble, floating, hovering, singing a sad and melancholic tone of silence. Zayne’s eyes widened, and he nearly screamed before the man interrupted him. “This…”

“That is a core; an implanted core, to be precise. Invisible in the eyes of many, but its potential…” The man turned his head up high, “-well, I hoped it’s enough to find out what’s up there. The eternity, The truth. It awaits.” His voice lowered, filled with a hint of grim mirth. Zayne questioned this man’s amusement with the word Eternity; none of the time he spent in the academy ever told him of such a thing.

The truth awaits. Zayne recalled all the messages he’d seen before the invasion happened, “Was it all you?” Why didn’t he give him this sooner? He knew he’d come off as demanding—a trait he hated seeing—but this was Kate’s life on the line here.

“Your core is unique,” he said, “It can only be implanted when the recipient is facing a great deal of distress, loss, pain, anguish, and despair. Only a very specific scenario could bring forth all those feelings at once. Hence…”

“You waited.” The invasion. The deaths. The man could be lying, and Zayne sensed that he wasn’t telling all the truth, and his words implied that he waited until the invasion before giving Zayne a core; had he warned him, or anyone else beforehand, perhaps things would be different…

The man sensed what Zayne was thinking of, as if his expression hadn’t revealed his doubts already, “My interest is not in the lives of others.” He said, “-nor do I need to help you in the first place. You do understand that I don’t owe you or that woman anything; it’s not my duty to keep her safe.” The man sighed, “In fact, that duty is yours, and you failed it. Horribly so, I might add.”

His last sentences yanked at Zayne’s heartstrings, “I know.” He grumbled, keeping his anger down low. He knew that. He recognized the boiling frustration inside his chest, screaming for a chance at relief. Her death wasn’t anyone’s fault but his; he’d failed to protect her, even after the grueling effort he’d put forth to be strong. Was it all a waste? “What do I do next?”

If this man could show him strength—enough so he’d never face that despair again, he’d sit the fuck down and listen.

For now.

“Glad to see us on the same page.” The man chuckled, “I believe you understand how adventurers get stronger. Your path is not so different than theirs. However, since your core is… well, implanted, the only way to strengthen it is to consume monster gems and only the gems that our cores extracted.” Ours, Zayne found that word peculiar, “You can also-”

He stopped, froze mid-sentence, and craned his head up, “They found them? That was quick…” His voice chilled Zayne down to the core, the wargs encircling them scampered in all directions as the man’s cloak faded, “-Get stronger, Zayne. Then come to the central continent if you want answers. If fate is kind, we’ll meet again. I’ll use these wargs for a… personal purpose. If you do get stronger, the core will grant you something special.” His figure and voice coalesced with the breezing wind, “Stay here for a few minutes, it’ll take some time to remove those pesky wraiths from your scent. Leave once you’ve plundered what you can.”

Central continent? Zayne watched his body dissipating, leaving him a bedazzled Zayne with his mouth gaping ringed by the prison of frigid bodies and the stench of ever-lasting death.