It was the fourth time this week that all of the monster sightings had been dealt with in an expansive area, with no known adventurer responsible for their removal. There weren’t even any rewards claimed for it, but each time they investigated, the intruding monsters were simply gone. The week had already started strangely, with an aura spike so overwhelming that adventurers from Baldir—an entire six-hour horse ride away—had come rushing to investigate. After the incident, the strange family vanished entirely, leaving only their house and a peculiar engraving: a seven-legged star in the center of a room. Spectators claimed they saw an eerie limelight, akin to when someone absorbs the Death essence. Kathrin quickly discarded that thought. The family had been odd, yes, but they didn’t belong to that category. No, they were venerating something far stranger—something called the VOID. Not just any void, but perhaps the concept of nothingness, a place where existence itself ceased to be.
As she was losing herself in thought, her assistant, Klife, burst through the door. “It was spotted. The thing that kills the monsters. It’s not really an 'it,' but it's certainly not alive in any conventional sense. It also took out some Copper rankers sent to clear the monsters in this area. Well, some of them. The group started with four, but only the heavy defender survived. We managed to extract some nuggets of information from him. This thing calls itself the Harbinger of the Void. It’s primarily a spellcaster with no special attack except one: it instantly eliminated the range specialist of the team. The incantation, as best we could make out, was something like ‘Be undone.’ Afterward, it conjured a sword, and the words— ‘Thy shattered minds, once scattered, now bound, forged into the blade that shall sunder all’—seemed to resonate. The Copper ranker’s mind was sharp, but that’s all he could recall. The rest were mostly teleportation powers and afflictions targeting single enemies, suggesting it doesn’t rely on a team. The first power clearly belongs to the Lurker Essence, a rare essence I’ve never heard of. The second, though, there’s no information on it—it doesn't exist, as far as we know.”
Her boss, Kevin, entered the room, cutting Klife off. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but that’s not all. Lungar is gone. There are some matters Klife isn’t privileged to hear, so if you’d kindly remove yourself, Klife?” With a slow nod, Klife stepped out of the room.
Kathrin’s gaze lingered on Kevin as the door closed behind Klife. "Who is this Lungar?" she asked, her voice sharp.
Kevin leaned against the desk, his face darkening. "That’s why I’m here. Lungar was an independent magical researcher, someone who pushed the boundaries of what magic should be. Necromancy, soul manipulation, and darker arts no one dares to speak of. But the difference with him was that he didn’t just study magic—he twisted it, reshaped it, and made it his."
"Why is he still alive, then?" Kathrin asked, disbelief creeping into her voice.
Kevin’s eyes hardened, his tone serious. "He’s not supposed to be. Lungar shouldn’t have lived this long. As a Bronze ranker, he should’ve died decades ago. But he defied nature. He extended his life, altered his very being. He turned 250 years old just a few years ago. And no one knows how old he really is. His power didn’t just come from magic—it came from something darker. Something unnatural."
"So, he’s gone. Why is that a problem?" Kathrin pressed, feeling the weight of Kevin’s words.
Kevin’s expression darkened even further. "Because Lungar’s disappearance is tied to something far worse than him. This Harbinger... it’s not Lungar, but we’re certain he has something to do with it. It’s not just a mage—it’s an entity."
Kathrin felt a chill spread down her spine. "An entity?"
Kevin nodded, his voice low and laden with fear. "A being whose very presence warps reality. We know he’s using escalating afflictions, but not in a way that makes sense. His powers aren’t just magical—they’re... alien. Like he’s pulling from sources we can’t even begin to understand. He’s wielding the Lurker essence for sure, and there are whispers of the Death essence, maybe even the Void essence. The name he calls himself—the Harbinger of the Void—is enough to freeze the blood in your veins. Whatever he is, it’s not human anymore."
Kathrin blinked, processing. "What kind of confluence does that create?"
Kevin hesitated, as though the very idea frightened him. "That’s the worst part. Normally, someone with the Death essence manifests the Undeath confluence, but not this... thing. He hasn’t used necromancy—nothing we recognize. What we have seen are abilities that defy logic. Doomclock—a twisted affliction that distorts time itself. He also has a teleportation ability, but it works through a different parallel-like dimension, bending space in a way we can’t comprehend. And then there’s the sword—he summons it after a kill, but we don’t yet know what it does."
Kathrin swallowed hard. "And the most concerning part for last," Kevin continued, his voice dropping further, "You’ve heard of the strange aura beacon sensed near the possible Death essence absorption a few days ago?"
Kathrin stiffened. "You mean the Diamond-ranked aura that stretched out for tens of kilometers?"
Kevin’s voice grew even quieter, almost fearful. "It wasn’t Diamond rank. It was something... above. We’ve been in talks with the top Diamond rankers, trying to understand if there’s even a rank beyond Diamond. What we know for sure is that this power isn’t like anything we’ve seen. It’s... wrong. One of the missing family members? He was in close contact with Lungar just before the incident. And now this... Harbinger is here."
Kathrin felt her stomach churn. "That’s not very good."
Kevin’s eyes locked onto hers, his voice filled with dread. "No. It’s worse than that. The Harbinger... Lungar’s disappearance... it’s coming for all of us."
You will be the official off dealing with this mess, I’d advise you to investigate it with the two researchers over at the other wing of the building.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The research bureau was a mess. Papers, half-filled scrolls, and half-broken magical devices were strewn across every surface. The air was thick with the smell of old parchment and burnt incense. It was a place where ideas came to die—or at least get hopelessly tangled in the incompetence of those trying to understand them.
Jeffrey sat hunched over a desk, his head buried in a pile of scribbled notes, furiously flipping through a half-missing ledger that seemed more like a child’s fever dream than any serious piece of research. A mug of cold tea sat precariously near the edge, as though daring someone to knock it over.
Leon, as always, was fiddling with some half-baked magical contraption, muttering under his breath as it sparked erratically. He glanced up, momentarily distracted. "So, Lungar… did he really rewrite reality, or are we just overreacting here?"
No one noticed the arrival of Kathrin.
Jeffrey snorted without lifting his eyes from his papers. “Rewrite reality? We don’t even know if the guy exists anymore, Leon. How do you rewrite reality when we can’t even make sense of these cursed aura readings? It’s like someone took a hammer to the entire concept of magic.”
Leon huffed. "Well, sure, that’s a good theory, but how do you explain the—uh, you know, the thing that keeps showing up and, uh, killing Copper rankers?"
Jeffrey paused, blinking as if trying to remember what they were even talking about. “Right, the Harbinger. Of course.” He reached for a crumpled sheet of paper, squinting at it as though he couldn’t quite recall what he’d written. "Ugh, here. No, wait, that’s not it—ah! Here. It’s... teleportation, maybe. Maybe? And some weird affliction thing. Can’t remember the details.”
Leon raised an eyebrow. “Teleportation? Are you sure it’s teleportation? Maybe it’s... leaving behind a residue? Or maybe it’s just a really fast... you know, run?”
Jeffrey waved him off dismissively. “Sure, Leon. Because running really fast could definitely explain a whole dimension-shifting phenomenon. Why not?”
Leon opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, thinking better of it. "Alright, alright, maybe I was getting ahead of myself. But you did mention something about 'parallel dimensions,' right? Or am I imagining that?”
“Yes, yes, that’s what I said!” Jeffrey snapped, pointing at him. “Parallel dimension. But don’t quote me on that. Who knows if that’s even what it is? It could be something completely different. A tear in reality, maybe? Or a rip in space-time? But I can’t confirm any of that because... well, we know jack shit, Leon.”
Leon scratched his head. “Right. Right. Jack shit. Makes sense. Anyway, did you find anything about that family—what were they called? The... Feral ones?”
Jeffrey groaned, flipping through more papers. “Ferrell. And no, I’m still not sure if they’re just a group of eccentric nutjobs or if they’re somehow... tied to Lungar’s research. Maybe they were test subjects or something. Whatever, they’re gone now. But there’s something... weird about their disappearance.”
Leon squinted at him. “What, like, mysterious weird? Or missing time weird? Or, like, something out of a bad horror book weird?”
“I don’t know, alright?” Jeffrey snapped, frustrated. “Maybe all of the above. They disappeared after the aura spike, and all that’s left is some strange engraving on the floor. A seven-legged star or something. I don’t even know what that means, Leon!”
“Seven legs?” Leon frowned. “That sounds like something you’d find in one of those stupid fantasy stories, like a demonic pentagram or—”
“It’s not a pentagram, Leon!” Jeffrey shouted. “You’re doing it again. Just... think. It’s not like some... cult ritual. Not everything is a damn cult ritual.”
“Alright, alright,” Leon muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get so dramatic. But, you know, this Harbinger... we’re not sure what it actually is, right? Like, at all?”
Jeffrey rubbed his temples. “We’re sure it’s not a person, Leon. No one moves like that—not unless they're unnatural. It doesn’t have a body, not really. And the abilities are all over the place. First, we think it’s just a teleporting monster, and then—boom—it has some kind of... aura power, something that messes with space itself. Then there’s the whole affliction thing. Whatever it is, it’s not behaving like any magic we know.”
Leon chewed on his pen, deep in thought. “Okay, so it’s not just a monster... but what if it was connected to Lungar? I mean, we know Lungar has been messing with stuff... magic... essences. Could this be one of his... uh, creations?”
Jeffrey shot him a look. “Don’t even go there. If this thing is tied to Lungar, we’ve got bigger problems than you can even imagine. We’re talking about something that twists reality itself. It’s not just some pet project he was working on to make himself some lunch.”
Leon shrugged. “Well, you’re the one who keeps saying Lungar is too smart to just disappear.”
Jeffrey rubbed his eyes in exasperation. “That’s the problem. Lungar never disappeared. He transcended something. Something—god knows what—that we have no way of even comprehending.”
“So, it’s... Lungar’s fault?” Leon said slowly, trying to piece it together. “But... but... if we don’t know what Lungar was even doing, then how can we know what the Harbinger is doing?”
Jeffrey turned to him with a deadpan expression. “We can’t. But we’re going to keep guessing until we figure it out, because that’s all we have. And meanwhile, we’ve got a Harbinger running around with god knows what kind of magic at its disposal.”
Kathrin stood at the door, her hand resting on the frame as she listened to the ridiculous back-and-forth between Jeffrey and Leon. Their discussion had devolved from incoherent rambling to an outright circus of magic theory and conjecture. They were arguing over something trivial—again. Something about a possible connection between a missing teacup and a teleportation rune, of all things.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, silencing them with the mere shift of her weight. They didn’t even notice. They were too wrapped up in their idiotic exchange.
“I... I can’t,” Kathrin muttered under her breath.
She turned back to face them, her voice much quieter than she intended, though sharp with the weight of unspoken exhaustion. “You two are absolutely hopeless.”
Jeffrey didn’t even blink, still animatedly discussing the potential magical properties of a cup—because, of course, that was somehow relevant. Leon, for his part, looked up lazily, catching the edge of her words.
Kathrin didn’t wait for them to respond.
“I have better things to do than babysit this,” she said, her frustration giving way to a weary resignation. “If you want to make any progress at all, you need to get your act together. I’ll be in the archives—if you manage to find anything of importance, let me know.”
She paused at the door, eyes lingering on their bumbling figures. Neither of them seemed remotely aware of the urgency hanging in the air, let alone the gravity of what they were discussing.
With a final, almost inaudible sigh, Kathrin stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking softly behind her. The sound felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders.
There was silence. The kind that only followed a conversation between two people who had no idea what they were doing.
“Do you think she’s mad?” Leon asked, half-heartedly.
“Uh... probably,” Jeffrey muttered, not looking up from the mess of notes.
“She could be more specific,” Leon muttered, going back to poking the weird magical contraption on his desk.
Kathrin’s footsteps echoed down the hall, and as they faded, so did the last thread of patience she’d been clinging to.