The sunlight streamed through the guild hall’s wide windows, casting golden patterns on the wooden floor. Nyx sat at the long banquet table, her legs swinging slightly as a crowd of hunters gathered around her. Their voices filled the room, a mix of laughter, admiration, and chatter.

“She’s a tough one, isn’t she?” one gruff hunter said, his deep voice booming as he leaned back in his chair. “Took on a dungeon with liars and lived to tell the tale. If I’d known she was this bold, I’d have taken her under my wing myself!”

Nyx glanced up from the plate of roasted meat and vegetables in front of her, a faint blush warming her cheeks. She had gotten used to the attention, but it still felt strange to be the focus of so many eyes.

“She’s not just bold,” another hunter chimed in, his tone reverent. “She’s fearless.” He raised his mug of ale. “To the youngest F-rank hunter!”

The room erupted in cheers, and Nyx smiled shyly, hiding behind a bite of her food.

A pair of hands clapped down on her shoulders, startling her. She turned to see Till grinning at her. “You’re practically a celebrity now, Nyx,” he teased.

“Stop,” she mumbled, her silver hair falling into her eyes as she looked away.

“Oh, let her enjoy it,” another hunter laughed. “She deserves it after what she’s been through.”

But beneath their words, Nyx couldn’t help noticing the way some hunters watched her—more cautious than celebratory. Was it protectiveness, or something else?

The noise quieted as heavy footsteps echoed across the room. All heads turned as the guild master entered—a sweet old man with a crooked smile and kind eyes. Mr. Ian’s presence commanded respect, and even the rowdiest hunters straightened in their chairs.

“Nyx,” he called warmly, his voice carrying over the crowd. “Come here, child.”

She stood, her steps hesitant as she approached him. The guild master’s smile widened as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve been through more than most hunters your age—or any age, for that matter,” he said, his tone serious. “On behalf of the guild, I want to apologize for what happened. That should never have been allowed.”

Nyx blinked, unsure of how to respond. “It’s… okay,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

“It’s not okay,” Mr. Ian insisted, shaking his head. “But I hope this will show how much we admire your bravery.”

He held out a small, intricately carved plaque, the words “Youngest Fearless Female Hunter” etched into its surface.

The room erupted into cheers again as Nyx took the plaque, her hands trembling slightly. She looked up at Mr. Ian, her amethyst eyes wide with surprise.

“This… this is for me?” she whispered.

“Of course,” Mr. Ian said with a chuckle. “You’ve earned it, Nyx.”

As she clutched the plaque to her chest, the warmth of the moment filled her heart—but so did a nagging doubt. Did she deserve all this? Or was it just another reminder of how much she still didn’t understand about herself?

Later that week, Nyx sat in the small chapel at the edge of the village. The faint scent of incense hung in the air as a robed priest leaned over her, his expression stern.

“You must understand,” he said, his voice low and measured, “this path you’ve chosen is dangerous. You’ve already come close to losing your life once.”

Nyx looked up at him, her face calm but defiant.

“If something like this happens again,” the priest continued, “we will have no choice but to intervene. You are too valuable to the church, Nyx. Hunting is no place for someone like you.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. Too valuable. Nyx’s jaw tightened. She knew what he really meant—what they truly feared.

“With all due respect,” she said, her voice quiet but firm, “you can’t stop me.”

The priest straightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”

As he walked away, Nyx exhaled softly, her resolve hardening. No matter what anyone said, she wouldn’t stop. Even if they tied her up, she would find a way to keep hunting.

That night, Nyx sat on the edge of her bed, the plaque resting on her lap. Her fingers traced the carved letters as she thought back to everything that had happened—the dungeon, the shaman, the guild, and the church.

She had come so far in such a short time, but the journey ahead felt heavier now. The hunters’ cheers, the guild master’s apology, even the church’s warnings—it all seemed to blur together, a mix of praise and pressure she wasn’t sure how to carry.

The plaque’s weight felt heavier than it should.

“Fearless,” she thought, her lips curving into a faint, wry smile. “Not fearless. Just determined.”

For now, she let herself enjoy the moment, whispering softly, “I’ll keep going. No matter what.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moonlight streamed through the small window of Nyx’s room at the orphanage, its pale glow casting faint patterns across the wooden floor. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her silver hair loose around her shoulders. The plaque she’d been awarded rested on her desk nearby, but her attention was elsewhere.

“Uriel,” she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation. “Let’s call them.”

“As you wish,” Uriel replied, its voice calm but resolute.

Nyx closed her eyes, her breathing steady as she focused inward. The air around her grew cold, the faint hum of energy vibrating through her chest. Shadows began to ripple beneath her feet, responding to her will.

With a silent command in her mind, the darkness swirled outward, tendrils of black and silver smoke stretching and coiling like living entities. The room seemed to hold its breath as the figures began to form, rising from the depths of her shadow like silent phantoms.

One by one, the goblins emerged, their forms cloaked in shadow and shimmering with silver light. The Forest Goblins moved with eerie grace, their shadowy vines and branches faintly glinting like dew in the moonlight. The Cave Goblins hovered like wisps of smoke, their glowing silver eyes piercing the darkness. The Mountain Goblins loomed large, their obsidian bodies veined with molten silver cracks, each step echoing with a low, resonant hum.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

They knelt before her in unison, their heads bowed, awaiting her command.

Nyx stared in awe, her amethyst eyes flickering with light. “There are… so many,” she murmured.

The Shadow Domain is a manifestation of your power,” Uriel explained, its voice steady and instructive. “It exists as an extension of your Necromancy, a place where the spirits and forms of the defeated can be preserved indefinitely.”

Nyx’s brows furrowed slightly. “Preserved? What does that mean?”

“It means they are not merely shadows, Nyx,” Uriel continued. “They retain their essence—their skills, their strength—but are bound to your will. The stronger your Necromancy grows, the larger and more capable the army within the domain becomes.”

Nyx glanced down at the faint, swirling shadows pooling at her feet. “So, they’ll just… stay there? Waiting for me?”

“Yes,” Uriel replied. “They are eternally loyal. Whenever you need them, they will emerge, fully prepared to serve.”

Her amethyst eyes glinted with a mix of curiosity and unease. “And their numbers will grow?”

“As long as you continue to use your Necromancy to claim those you defeat,” Uriel said, its tone calm but certain, “the Shadow Domain will expand. The stronger the enemy you conquer, the more powerful your army becomes.”

Nyx exhaled slowly, the weight of her abilities settling over her. “So, it’s like I’m building something… but with shadows.”

“Precisely,” Uriel confirmed. “Your domain is as much a weapon as your daggers or your skills. Learn to wield it wisely, and it will become a force no one can challenge.”

Nyx’s gaze swept across the kneeling figures, her heart pounding with equal parts pride and unease. “It’s… overwhelming,” she admitted softly.

“They are yours to command,” Uriel reminded her. “And they will follow your orders without question.”

As she took a step forward, a single figure rose from the group. The skeletal goblin shaman stepped into the light, his skeletal frame etched with glowing silver runes. His hollow eye sockets burned with a faint light as he knelt before her.

“Master,” the shaman said, his voice smooth and unwavering despite his grotesque appearance.

Nyx blinked, startled by how articulate he sounded. “You can still talk?”

“Yes,” he replied. “The transformation has stripped me of many things, but speech is not one of them. I am bound to you, but my mind remains intact.”

Nyx tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “What can you do?”

The shaman straightened slightly, his skeletal frame creaking faintly. “I can command the shadow army in your stead,” he said, gesturing toward the kneeling goblins. “I can also raise the dead in a lesser form—zombies, if you will. A gift of your necromancy.”

Nyx’s brows furrowed as she turned her thoughts inward. “Uriel,” she asked silently, “is that… okay? Can he lead them?”

“His abilities are compatible with your powers,” Uriel replied. “Entrusting him with the army will ease your burden and ensure efficient control. It is a sound decision.”

Nyx nodded, her focus returning to the shaman. “Alright,” she said aloud. “You have my permission to lead them when I call for you.”

The shaman bowed deeply, his skeletal hands pressed against the ground. “It will be my honor, Master.”

For a moment, Nyx hesitated, then asked, “What’s your name?”

“I have no name,” he said simply. “I exist only to serve.”

Nyx’s lips pressed into a thin line. A memory stirred—an old story Sister Clara once told her, of a fierce yet noble figure who led with unwavering loyalty.

“Then I’ll give you one,” she said. “Zarvok.”

The shaman tilted his head, his glowing eyes flickering faintly. “Zarvok,” he repeated, his voice steady. “A fitting name. I thank you, Master.”

A faint smile crossed Nyx’s lips as she took a step back, her gaze sweeping over the army again. “Zarvok,” she said, testing the name aloud. It felt right, as though it had always belonged to him.

Status Update

< Shaman Shadow Goblin

Zarvok

Level: 10>

As the goblins knelt silently before her, Nyx felt a swell of pride rise in her chest. She hadn’t just survived—she had grown stronger, more capable. She traced her fingers over the hilt of one of her daggers, her gaze lingering on the army she now commanded.

“I’ve come so far,” she murmured, her voice almost inaudible.

“You have,” Uriel replied. “And those who once doubted you would be proud—if they could see you now.”

Nyx’s smile widened slightly. She wasn’t sure if it was pride, relief, or something more, but for the first time in a long while, she felt ready for whatever came next.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the narrow hallways of the orphanage as Nyx stood near the doorway, her silver hair falling into her eyes. She watched the young boy, her only friend at the orphanage, climbing into a grand carriage waiting just outside.

“You’re really going?” Nyx asked, her voice quiet but steady.

The boy turned, his eyes shimmering with a mix of excitement and guilt. “I don’t have a choice, Nyx. They’re… they’re giving me a chance at something better. A real family.”

Nyx nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

“But…” The boy hesitated, biting his lip. “What about you? I wish I could take you with me.”

Nyx forced a small smile, though her chest felt tight. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got Till… and the guild.” She paused, her hands fidgeting at her sides. “You’ll be okay, right?”

The boy nodded quickly, stepping closer and gripping Nyx’s hand. “I’ll write to you. Somehow. I promise.”

The coachman called out, his voice brisk and impatient. “Boy, we need to leave.”

Nyx took a step back as he climbed into the carriage. She pressed her hand against her chest as the door closed behind her friend, the sound of it like a final farewell.

“Goodbye,” Nyx said softly, her voice almost swallowed by the creak of the carriage wheels.

As the horses trotted forward, carrying her friend away, Nyx stood still for a moment, her thoughts swirling. The faint sound of the wheels faded into the distance, leaving only the cool evening air and the hollow sound of her boots as she turned back toward the orphanage.

“I’ll be fine,” she murmured to herself, though the words felt heavier than she expected. She clenched her fists, exhaling slowly as she pushed the sadness aside.

The guild hall buzzed with low chatter, the hunters gathered in small groups as they leaned against the wooden tables. Nyx slipped through the doors, her boots clicking softly on the floor as she made her way toward the board displaying the available jobs.

At the center of the room, a group of hunters stood around a table, their conversation growing louder.

“I’m not wasting my time with slimes,” a tall hunter scoffed, his arms crossed. “Weakest monsters there are.”

“But they’re multiplying,” Lyssandra countered, her voice sharp. The guild receptionist stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the group. “They’re destroying farmland, terrorizing the farmers. If no one deals with them, it’s going to get worse.”

A shorter hunter laughed, shaking his head. “And what’s the reward? A handful of copper? I’d rather spend my time on something worth it.”

Lyssandra sighed in frustration, rubbing her temples. “It’s not just about the money—it’s about protecting the people. That’s what being a hunter is supposed to mean.”

Nyx approached the table, tilting her head curiously. “What’s going on?”

Lyssandra’s face brightened slightly at the sight of Nyx. “It’s a slime dungeon. No one wants to take the job, and the situation is getting out of hand.”

Nyx’s amethyst eyes flicked to the job listing on the table. “I’ll do it,” she said, her voice calm but firm.

The hunters turned to look at her, their expressions a mix of surprise and skepticism.

“You?” the tall hunter said, raising an eyebrow. “A kid taking on a dungeon? Even a slime dungeon might be too much for you.”

Nyx crossed her arms, standing tall despite her small stature. “You don’t want to waste your time, right? So let me handle it.”

Lyssandra hesitated, glancing at the group before turning back to Nyx. “Are you sure about this? Slimes might be weak, but if there are too many, it could get overwhelming.”

Nyx nodded. “I’m sure. I can handle it.”

Lyssandra bit her lip, her gaze flickering between Nyx and the hunters. “If you’re absolutely certain… Fine. But you have to promise me that if it gets too dangerous, you’ll stop and come back immediately.”

“I promise,” Nyx said with a faint smile, though a spark of determination flickered in her eyes. She knew she wouldn’t turn back.

Lyssandra sighed, picking up the job listing and handing it to Nyx. “The farmers are desperate, so don’t waste time. Just bring back the magic stones from the slimes to get your reward. That’s all you need to do.”

Nyx took the paper, her fingers tightening around it. “Got it.”

The hunters exchanged looks as she turned and headed for the door, their murmurs following her.

“She’s fearless, I’ll give her that,” one muttered.

“Or foolish,” another replied with a shrug.

Nyx ignored them, her grip tightening on the paper. This was her chance to prove herself, not just to the guild, but to herself. As she stepped out into the cool evening air, a faint smile played on her lips.

Her next hunt awaited.