“Alright, with Brawl’s success, we should continue. Grey, are you alright to increase the talent of the others?” Elder’s voice carried through the heavy air, laced with both hope and caution.

Grey opened his mouth to respond, his voice trembling slightly from exhaustion. “It’ll take much more energy, but it should be—”

Everything froze.

The edges of Grey’s vision blurred, and then… static.

A suffocating silence slammed down on him, and somewhere in the distance, he could hear faint, distorted voices—Elder, Keen, Serene—all calling his name, their tones sharp with fear.

But something else was pulling him.

It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was ancient, eternal. A force so heavy and vast it felt as though it was pulling at the core of him.

Grey’s mind snapped.

Everything went black.

Grey’s eyes opened to nothing.

The same black emptiness he had seen in Brawl’s trial stretched infinitely in every direction. There was no light, no sound, only the crushing sensation of being watched.

And then—it spoke.

“You… you are the one interfering? Such an existence can persist in the Lower World?”

The voice was everywhere, wrapping around Grey like chains forged from ice and shadow. It wasn’t just heard—it was felt. Each word burrowed into his chest, his bones, his thoughts.

Grey tried to respond, to push back against the suffocating presence, but his throat locked. No sound escaped him.

The voice laughed.

“Haha!” It was hollow, uncaring, and sharp as glass. “Fine. I’ll let you help them. It’s unfortunate, but I can’t rid myself of you while you’re there. For now… let’s see how far you can drag that race back from the eternal pit of the Damned Lands.”

The words Damned Lands echoed through Grey’s mind, carrying weight far beyond their sound.

Before Grey could process the meaning, the force released him.

The cold coils around his spirit unraveled, and for a moment, Grey felt his very existence on the verge of being snuffed out.

And then—he fell.

The black void snapped away, and he plummeted back into his mental space like a meteor striking a still lake.

Grey gasped, his body trembling, his chest heaving as though he’d been drowning. The familiar glow of the golden pool surrounded him again, its light gentle but distant.

But the fear lingered.

His mind raced, replaying every word, every syllable spoken in that dark space. That voice… it wasn’t just something powerful—it was vast. It had spoken about the Damned Lands with a casual disdain, as though the world they fought so desperately to survive in was nothing but a cracked, broken cage.

Was that where their village was?

No… it didn’t feel right. The way it spoke, it wasn’t just referring to their village or the Prowling Forest—it was speaking about the world itself.

Grey shook his head violently, trying to clear the fog of dread clawing at the edges of his thoughts.

“No. Not now.”

There was no point in chasing answers he wasn’t ready for. That thing, whatever it was, existed so far beyond his understanding that thinking about it only led to despair.

But one thing was clear: they weren’t ready.

The village wasn’t ready. The squad wasn’t ready.

Grey clenched his fists, his knuckles white, his chest burning with resolve.

He needed to be stronger. The village needed to be stronger. Everyone needed to be stronger.

There was no other path.

They couldn’t afford to falter—not now, not ever.

Grey tried to will himself out of the dream-like space, to snap back to reality, but he couldn’t. Instead, the space shuddered. The surface of the golden pool rippled outward, shimmering faintly with cracks of light.

Then, a voice came—not gripping or dark like the one before. This voice was... different. Softer. Familiar in a way he couldn’t quite place.

“Will.”

Grey froze. The word echoed in his mind, not commanding but guiding.

Through the haze of his shock, the voice spoke again, clearer this time:

“Find the will.”

His breath caught. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Grey called out into the starry expanse. His voice felt small, as if swallowed by the vastness of the space.

But there was no response.

The pool rippled one final time as the voice delivered its last message:

“The will of beasts.”

Then—silence.

The faint earthquake-like trembling that had been shaking the space stopped. The golden pool stilled.

And Grey’s eyes shot open.

Grey blinked rapidly, his vision sharpening as he was met with a crowd of worried faces. Serene was closest, her hand trembling slightly on his shoulder.

“Grey!” she exclaimed, relief breaking through her voice like sunlight piercing a storm.

He sat up slowly, glancing around. Keen, Elder, Wild, Brawl, and Serene were all watching him, their auras flickering faintly in the dim light of the hall.

“How long was I out?” Grey asked, his voice steadier than he felt.

Keen crossed his arms but seemed slightly more relaxed now. “Not long. Just a moment.”

Grey let out a slow breath. Somehow, it had felt like hours in that strange space. But here—only moments had passed.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Elder stepped forward, his voice firm but carrying a note of fatherly concern. “We should give you a break, Grey.”

Grey immediately shook his head, rising to his feet. “I’m fine—”

Elder raised a hand, cutting him off with a calm authority that brokered no argument. “You’ve done enough today. We’re not in such a rush that we can’t wait one day for rest. The handlers have tended to the dead, but I still need to hold the funeral ceremony. After that, we’ll begin testing who can comprehend the Doctrine of Will.”

There was no dissent. The group nodded in agreement, though Grey’s chest tightened slightly.

Something else is out there, he thought. Not just Drake’s master or his companions. Something far worse. Watching. Waiting.

But as he scanned their faces, he saw something else. Each of their auras glowed faintly red, a shared hue of struggle and resilience. Only Keen’s flickering pale orange and Brawl’s calm, molten orange stood apart.

Grey sighed inwardly. If everyone wanted to rest, he could understand.

As the group began to disperse, Serene stepped beside Grey, offering her arm in support. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“You gonna walk me home again?” he said with a tired chuckle.

Serene smirked. “What, you’re gonna tell Tear that you told me to go home without seeing her first?”

They shared a brief laugh before starting down the hallway together.

Behind them, Brawl’s booming voice echoed off the stone walls.

“Already looking like you two are closer than Patrona and Keen!”

Serene’s face turned crimson, and Grey felt his ears heat up as well. They both immediately picked up their pace, walking faster to escape the teasing.

Keen, still behind them, sighed and turned to Brawl. With a grin that was sharp but playful, he punched Brawl lightly in the shoulder.

Except "light" from Keen still had the weight of a sledgehammer.

His knuckles thudded against Brawl’s arm, but it felt like he had just struck a wall of solid stone. Keen shook his hand out with a grimace.

“Leave ’em alone, big guy. Want me to start talking about Shot?” Keen whispered, his smirk wickedly sharp.

Brawl’s grin faltered instantly, his thick brow furrowing as he turned his head away.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll stop teasing the kids. It’s their own fault for getting so comfortable around everyone.”

But even as he said it, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

As Grey walked alongside Serene, his thoughts drifted back to the voice.

"Will."

"Find the will."

"The will of beasts."

The words carried weight, but their meaning felt just out of reach—like a thread dangling in front of him, waiting to be pulled.

He didn’t know what the voice meant, or who—or what—it had belonged to.

But one thing was clear:

The Doctrine of Will was waiting. And whatever lay beyond it… Grey would have to face it soon.

The heavy stone door creaked open under Elder’s guidance, letting a gust of cold, frost-tinged air sweep into the underground chamber. The scent of wood smoke and distant pine carried on the wind as the group stepped outside into the icy stillness of the village night.

The others began to disperse. Shot gave Serene a quick hug before disappearing down a path to her own home. Keen exchanged a brief word with Grey, clapping him lightly on the shoulder before striding away into the shadows. Elder lingered for a moment, his wise gaze sweeping across the two of them before he turned and walked toward his own quarters.

Grey glanced at Serene as they began walking side by side. The snow crunched softly beneath their boots, and faint light from distant wooden homes glimmered in the frost-covered air.

“How about we stop at your place first?” Grey offered, his voice soft but steady. “Your parents must be worried about you.”

Serene hesitated mid-step, her breath fogging in the cold air as she glanced away. “Alright… but don’t get annoyed. They can be… weird.”

Grey furrowed his brow, tilting his head slightly. “What do you mean by weird?”

Serene shifted uncomfortably, her gaze dropping to her boots. “If I mention you…”

Grey caught on quickly, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Oh. Right. Parents being protective and all. I can just wait outside if that’s easier. Then we can head to mine and check on Tear.”

Serene’s lips quirked into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No. It’s fine. Just… brace yourself.”

They continued walking in silence, weaving between wooden homes insulated with thick pelts and leather stitching. Smoke curled upward from stone chimneys, and the faint hum of village life lingered in the cold night air.

Serene stopped in front of a sturdy wooden dwelling built low to the ground and reinforced with thick beams. Leather and fur pelts covered the seams, insulating it against the cold. A faint glow from within spilled out under the heavy hide flap that served as the door. Smoke rose lazily from a stone chimney above, and a faint scent of burning wood and cooked meat clung to the air.

Serene lifted the hide flap and stepped inside, motioning for Grey to follow.

Inside, the warmth was immediate. A central fire pit glowed softly, its flames crackling and casting dancing shadows along the walls. Neatly arranged bundles of herbs hung from the rafters, and the walls were lined with wooden tools, hunting spears, and pelts.

Two figures turned toward them.

Serene’s father stood near a wooden workbench, carefully carving the handle of a bone knife. He was broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, his hair a mix of black and gray, his beard trimmed short. His sharp eyes softened slightly at the sight of his daughter.

Beside him, Serene’s mother was stitching leather with practiced precision. Her long hair was tightly braided, and her movements were deliberate and careful. She had sharp features, but her expression brightened into a warm smile when she saw Serene.

“Serene!” her mother exclaimed, setting her work aside and stepping forward. She wrapped Serene in a brief but tight embrace before pulling back to examine her face. “You’re alright.”

Her father followed, placing a heavy hand on Serene’s shoulder. His voice was low and steady. “You made it back. That’s what matters.”

Serene stepped aside slightly, gesturing to Grey. “This is Grey. He’s… well, he’s the reason I made it back at all.”

Grey hesitated at the threshold, his silver eyes flicking between the two figures. He felt out of place here—like he was intruding on something sacred.

Serene’s mother’s sharp eyes fell on Grey, studying him for a moment before her smile returned, faint but genuine. “You’re Grey. Serene’s told us about you.”

Grey cleared his throat lightly, his voice softer than usual. “It’s… good to meet you both.”

Serene’s father stepped forward. Despite his towering presence, his movements were calm and measured. “You’re welcome here, Grey. Come sit by the fire. You’ve earned a moment of warmth.”

Grey nodded hesitantly before stepping fully inside and settling onto a low bench near the fire pit. Serene sat beside him, her shoulders relaxing slightly now that they were home.

Serene’s mother moved back to her place near the stitching frame but kept her eyes on Grey. “Serene rarely speaks about herself after a hunt, but she talks about her squadmates. And only one other person.”

Grey’s lips twitched in an awkward smile as he shifted slightly on the fur-draped bench near the fire pit. The glow of the flames danced across the walls, and the quiet crackling of the fire filled the air.

Serene’s mother, still stitching a leather hide with practiced precision, spoke without looking up. “How was the hunt?”

Grey glanced at Serene, noticing how her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her seat. The group had taken the time to clean themselves after the chaos, but even now, faint shadows clung to their expressions.

“It—it was good,” Grey said, his voice steady but tight. “We managed to deal with the monsters driving the more dangerous beasts closer to the village.”

Serene’s mother paused in her stitching and tilted her head slightly. “Really? We’re just toolmakers here, Grey. When Serene chose to learn under Shot, it was… well, quite the shock for us. Now it feels like we know so little about her life. What kind of beasts did you see? It must’ve been an experience, going so far out.”

Grey hesitated, his breath catching slightly as flashes of memory stirred—not the beasts, not the mantis, not the monstrous horns in the dark, but the strangers. Their lifeless eyes. Their still bodies crumpled on the forest floor, blood soaking into the dirt.

He tried to speak, his voice faltering slightly. “They were—”

Beside him, Serene’s shoulders tensed, and her head dipped slightly. Her breathing had slowed, but her chest rose and fell with uneven sharpness.

Her father, who had been quietly observing both of them, set down his carving knife and leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “How about some food? No one likes talking about work anyway.”

The gentle interruption seemed to break the tension hanging in the air.

Serene’s mother glanced up from her stitching, her sharp eyes softening as she studied the pale faces of both Grey and her daughter. Her lips curved into a faint smile, one that carried both understanding and warmth.

“You’re right, dear. It was foolish of me to ask about something so… boring.”

She rose smoothly from her seat and walked over to a large iron pot hanging over a smaller side fire. The steam rising from it carried the earthy scent of root vegetables, wild grasses, and slow-cooked meat. Carefully, she ladled the warm, thick broth into two wooden bowls and brought them back to Grey and Serene.

“Here. It’s not much, but it’ll warm you both up.”

Grey accepted the bowl with both hands, the faint heat seeping into his cold fingers. He glanced at Serene, who was staring into her bowl, her lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly, she brought the bowl to her lips and sipped, her shoulders loosening slightly as the warmth spread through her.

Grey followed suit, the earthy, slightly bitter broth washing over his tongue. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was comforting—simple, sustaining, and made with care.