Michaelli listened to the rustling leaves and the distant calls of unseen creatures. The canopy above cast shifting patterns across the forest floor as the royal hunters advanced with practiced stealth. The snort of a horse broke the tension, every ear pricked for the faintest sound.

The Prince led the group astride a jet-black stallion, its muscles taut and coiled like a bowstring, mirroring its master’s anticipation. This was no ordinary hunt—they sought the Onyxariel, the legendary black griffin. Its wings were said to stretch as vast as shadows, capable of blanketing the sky, with a golden beak gleaming brighter than any royal seal.

“Nightfall, let’s go,” Michaelli muttered, urging his steed forward. To him, this was more than a hunt; it was prophecy taking shape. Tonight, I will claim the Onyxariel.

“Awoooo…”

Michaelli raised his hand, signaling the group to halt. Silence swallowed the woods, thick and absolute. Then, a sharp, piercing cry shattered the stillness, reverberating like a spectral warning.

Michaelli’s grin turned predatory as he gestured for his riders to spread out. The thrill of the hunt coursed through his veins. “It’s close,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with challenge. The air seemed to grow heavier, the forest holding its breath.

“Awoohuhu…”

Michaelli froze mid-step. The sound, once fierce and wild, now wavered into a strange, whimpering wail. Suspicion replaced his thrill as he crept toward the source, dagger ready, senses razor-sharp. Leaves crunched underfoot as he carefully parted the branches.

“Awohuhu…aah! Your Highness? Oh, thank goodness!”

Michaelli’s jaw tightened. For a long moment, he simply stared, his sharp mind noting the oddity of the sound before he fully processed the sight in front of him. Dangling upside-down from a crude rope trap—meant for small hunt—was Tuk, his hapless advisor, swaying back and forth like a deranged pendulum.

“You…what are you doing up there?” His tone was flat, his patience hanging by a thread.

“I—I was looking for you, Your Highness!” Tuk stammered, flailing slightly. “But, uh… first, could you help me get down? I think all the blood is rushing to my head.”

Michaelli pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh so long and deep it seemed to ask the heavens for strength. Slowly, he unsheathed his dagger, tilting it lazily in Tuk’s direction.

“Wait, Your Highness!” Tuk yelped, his eyes widening with alarm. “You’re not seriously going to throw that, are you?”

Michaelli arched a brow, his expression neutral but his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you think so little of me? If I wanted you dead, you’d already be on the ground.” He twirled the dagger deftly. “Now hold still. I’m an excellent shot—when people don’t wiggle.”

“It can kill me! I’ll die both ways! If I fall headfirst—”

Before Tuk could finish his frantic protests, the woods shifted.

A shadow passed overhead, blotting out the dappled light. A rush of wind swept through the trees, bending branches and sending a cascade of leaves swirling in gold and green. Michaelli’s steed, Nightfall, whinnied and danced nervously, its hooves stamping into the earth.

Michaelli stiffened, his grip tightening on the reins. His dagger lowered, momentarily forgotten as his sharp gaze swept the darkening sky.

A low hum built in the air—deep and foreboding, like the rumble of distant thunder.

“Y-Your Highness…” Tuk’s voice cracked as he pointed a trembling finger skyward. “That’s not a dragon, is it?”

The Onyxariel descended, circling above them like a storm-given flesh. Its wings carved through the air with an ominous grace, sunlight glinting off dark feathers threaded with veins of gold. Its golden beak gleamed—a warlord’s crown forged for battle, fierce and unyielding.

Tuk stared at the flying beast—a creature that was clearly not a dragon but more like a lion with wings, its massive shadow blotting out the sunlight as it descended from the skies. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a resigned sigh and watery eyes, she muttered, “Why is it always me?”

Tuk, clinging desperately tried to hold to the rope that makes his body wave frantically. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!” he shouted desperately forgetting for a moment that he was talking to a prince, not a stupid friend.

“Calm down. You’re perfectly safe.”

“Perfectly safe? It’s LOOKING at me!” Tuk screeched as the griffin’s sharp eyes locked onto her dangling form. The forest seemed to hold its breath as Tuk clung to the rope, legs swinging wildly. “Oh no, no, no…”

With a thunderous roar, Michaelli spurred Nightfall into the clearing, his gaze locking onto the griffin in a silent declaration of war.

He raised his dagger, the obsidian runes along its surface glowing faintly. With a sharp command in an ancient tongue, the weapon shimmered, liquefying in his hands. The dark liquid writhed and twisted before solidifying into a gleaming sword. Without hesitation, Michaelli slashed the air, the blade humming with restrained power as he charged toward the beast.

The Onyxariel twisted in mid-air, dodging his strike with infuriating grace. It dove, talons extended like jagged spears now aiming to the prince. Michaelli ducked just in time, the claws raking deep into the earth behind him.

The beast lunged again, its wings stirring a gale that whipped through the clearing. Michaelli then took one step forward and swung his sword. The runes glowed faintly as the weapon rippled and reshaped in his hands, flowing like liquid metal. Michaelli narrowed his eyes, and his weapon rippled, shifting from a spear into a gleaming whip blade. The segmented metal extended and coiled like a serpent, glowing faintly as it responded to his movements.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Tuk blinked in disbelief. “Okay, what the hell is happening.”

The whipblade struck with precision, coiling around the griffin’s talons. A furious roar echoed as the beast faltered, its wings churning the air into chaos. Michaelli pulled sharply, his movements fluid and unrelenting, dragging the Onyxariel into a spiraling descent.

The griffin screeched, flapping its massive wings to regain control. Michaelli released the whipblade, letting it snap back into its sword form as the griffin lunged once more.

Its beak came dangerously close to his head, but Michaelli ducked and countered with a sweeping arc of the blade, aiming for the exposed joint of its wing but it’s feathers were tougher than he anticipated, deflecting the strike with a metallic clang.

Above, Tuk dangled precariously from the rope, peeking down at the live fight unfolding beneath her. Michaelli moved with the precision of a dancer, his whipblade slicing through the air like a predator, every strike calculated to keep the beast at bay. Her eyes flicked between the prince and the griffin, catching a subtle shift in its movements, but her attention quickly returned to Michaelli.

“Why does he look so smug?” she muttered under her breath.

The griffin lashed out with its beak, forcing Michaelli to leap back. He landed effortlessly, his smirk never faltering.

“Stop enjoying this!” Tuk yelled.

Michaelli finally glanced her way, his tone laced with mocking amusement. “I said stay still. Do you always talk this much? You're as bothersome as a spoiled woman.”

'But I am a woman,' Tuk thought, resisting the urge to snap back. Instead, she pressed her lips together, deciding it was wiser to redirect her attention to the looming beast rather than engage in the prince’s taunts.

Suddenly, she froze. “Wait… why is it coming at me?!” she shrieked as the griffin’s piercing gaze shifted and met hers, hanging helplessly from the rope. The creature's wings flared as it prepared to strike.

“No… go away!” Tuk yelled, thrashing against her bindings.

Michaelli’s smirk deepened, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as the Onyxariel lunged toward her. Yet, before it could reach its target, Michaelli intercepted it mid-charge. The whipblade in his hands rippled again, shortening and curving into a scythe-like blade. With a single sweeping arc, he clipped the beast’s wing, sending a cascade of black diamond-like feathers raining down.

From her vantage point, Tuk observed the way the Onyxariel moved. Her frantic mind caught something amidst the chaos—the subtle shift of its hind legs before each leap. Without thinking, she blurted out, “Its balance! It shifts weight to its back legs before it strikes!”

Michaelli’s eyes darted briefly to the creature, then to Tuk, before a sharp smile tugged at his lips. “Lucky guess,” he murmured.

In one swift motion, his whipblade lashed out with deadly precision, severing the tendon of the Onyxariel’s hind leg. The creature screeched in pain, its massive wings flailing as it faltered mid-flight.

“Now!” Michaelli growled, surging forward with the grace of a predator. He vaulted onto the griffin’s back, his movements fluid despite the beast’s violent thrashing. As the Onyxariel bucked wildly, Michaelli used its momentum, propelling himself higher toward a dangling figure bound by a thick, tangled rope.

His weapon shifted seamlessly back into a dagger. With a single, decisive stroke, he severed the rope that held Tuk captive. She plummeted with a yelp, and before she could hit the ground, Michaelli caught her mid-air with a firm grip.

But something made him falter. His hand pressed against her chest briefly, his fingers brushing something unexpected—a shape too soft and out of place. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but he quickly adjusted, sliding his grip to her waist with practiced ease, his expression unreadable.

Tuk, too stunned to speak, clung to his arm as he landed gracefully, her heart pounding from more than just the fall.

Michaelli set her down but didn’t release her immediately. His golden eyes lingered on her, sharp and searching, as though piecing together a puzzle. His smirk returned, slower this time, almost calculating.

Tuk plummeted with a high-pitched yelp, only to land unceremoniously in Michaelli’s arms. Her breath caught, unsure whether to feel proud or insulted by his dismissive response. “You’re welcome!” she called indignantly, though her heart was still racing.

Michaelli glanced at her, the faintest glimmer of unknown hidden beneath his usual mask of arrogance. “You’re heavier than I thought,” he muttered as they landed safely.

Tuk pouted. “That’s not exactly comforting, Your Highness.”

“You keep finding yourself in dangerous situations,” Michaelli remarked quietly, his tone unusually even. “It’s almost as if you’re cursed.”

She let out a dry laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe I am.”

For a fleeting moment, Michaelli paused, his gaze flickering toward her before he shifted his attention back to her bindings. “Then stay closer next time,” he said curtly, letting the rope snap free on her feet.

Tuk glared at him as she dusted herself off. “Closer? So I can be bait again? Great plan, genius.”

“You’re still alive. Against all odds, I might add,” Michaelli replied.

“Are you saying you care?” Tuk asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m saying I’d prefer not to carry you again.” Michaelli shot back, the faintest trace of a smirk playing at his lips as he turned back to the injured Onyxariel, already preparing for the final strike.

Tuk clenched her fists, shooting a quick prayer to the heavens. “For the love of god, please give me patience not to strike the back of his head. As tempting as it is…” she muttered under her breath.

The Onyxariel let out one last, furious roar, dragging their attention back to the battlefield. Michaelli’s grip tightened briefly before he let her go. “Move back,” he commanded, his voice low and lethal as he turned back toward the beast with whipblade in hand.

Sensing its imminent defeat, the griffin spread its battered wings, claws digging into the earth as it prepared for a final, desperate escape.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Michaelli growled, his weapon shifting fluidly into a bow, the transformation smooth as if it were an extension of his will. A black, viscous liquid oozed into the weapon’s center, forming an arrow that pulsated like a heartbeat.

With a sharp exhale, he fired. The arrow streaked through the air, its sleek form glinting in the light before twisting into a sinuous, living chain. It wrapped around the Onyxariel’s neck with a serpentine grace, tightening with every thrash of the griffin’s wings.

The creature let out a guttural screech, wings flapping frantically but Michaelli stood firm. With a sharp yank on the chain, he dragged the beast back to the earth, its enormous body crashing into the dirt in a flurry of leaves and dust.

The griffin struggled, its movements growing erratic as it tried to shake off its captor. Michaelli wasted no time. In one fluid motion, he surged forward, the chain in his hands dissolving back into the form of a sword. Its blade shimmered with a menacing, dark glow, humming with latent energy.

The Onyxariel locked eyes with Michaelli, a final, defiant glare that promised revenge. But the prince was unrelenting. With one decisive strike, he drove the blade into the beast’s chest, the impact reverberating through the clearing like a thunderclap.

The Onyxariel let out a final, haunting cry, its voice echoing across the battlefield before it fell silent. Its colossal form slumped to the ground, lifeless, the forest eerily still in its wake.

Standing atop its lifeless form, Michaelli surveyed the fallen creature, his hand brushing its dark feathers. His voice was quiet but firm. “Strength like this shouldn’t be wasted.”

From behind a tree, Tuk peeked out, her hair a disheveled mess. “Why do I have to watch this action scene instead of a romance arc?!” she muttered, half-hysterical.

The warriors erupted into cheers, scrambling to claim feathers from the beast as trophies. Michaelli, ever composed, sheathed his weapon and turned to Tuk. She was slumped against the tree, glaring at him with her hair sticking out in every direction, like a ruffled bird caught in a storm.

She really is like a little lark, he thought. So fragile, left on her own she wouldn’t survive the wild.

“Get up,” Michaelli commanded, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever.

Tuk raised a hand weakly, her voice dripping with mock drama. “Oh, no, Your Highness. Go on without me. Tell the court I died a noble death, trying to avoid—”

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Michaelli interrupted, reaching down to pull her up unceremoniously. “And me.”

She yelped as he dragged her to her feet, glaring at him as she brushed off dirt and leaves. “You could at least pretend to appreciate the sacrifices I make for your royal hunt agenda.”

Michaelli smirked. “Sacrifices? You were hanging from a tree.”

Tuk crossed her arms, tilting her head toward the warriors who were now playfully arguing over who struck the first blow. “Well, at least they appreciate me. I’m basically their good-luck charm.”

“Good luck for them, maybe,” Michaelli quipped.

Tuk gasped in mock offense, then grinned slyly. “And here I thought you cared.”

The prince shot her a sharp look, though the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Care is a strong word. Let’s stick with ‘tolerate.’”

She laughed, shaking her head as the tension of the battle finally melted away. “Well, Your Highness, if I’m such a burden, maybe I should just stay behind next time.”

Michaelli paused, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Stay behind? And deprive me of the endless entertainment?”

The warriors burst into laughter at this, having overheard the exchange. Tuk groaned, covering her face with her hands. One of the warriors with a similar feature to Bucky clapped her on the back, nearly knocking her over. “Welcome to the team, Advisor! We’re glad to have you!”

Tuk stumbled, shooting a glare at Michaelli, who was already walking away, clearly satisfied with himself. She sighed, muttering under her breath, “I really need to renegotiate my role in this mess.”

As the group began to move out, the griffin’s massive body left behind like a trophy, Tuk found herself chuckling despite it all. This wasn’t the adventure she’d expected, but somehow, it was starting to feel like her own.

"What a cruel curse it is to be Isekai'd," Tuk thought silently, unaware that her trials were far from over. The secret he had carefully concealed would soon surface, and the one who uncovered it was the very person she feared most—the one she never wanted to know.

What will become of Tuk when everything unravels? Stay tuned to find out.

Chapter closed—for now. But don’t worry, the journey is far from over. See you in February with more twists, turns, and surprises! Until then, stay safe and take care! 🎆