I am Shadow, less than a day old, and I am a shard of Prince Ren Drakemore's soul placed inside of a wooden puppet masquerading as an adventure. Tonight, I am setting off on our first quest as an E-rank adventure to kill some wolves that have been killing livestock on Lord Griswald's Lands. Slaying these wolves should be a piece of cake and will be great for growing my reputation with the guild. I snuck into the castle's stables and "borrowed" an all-black stallion, that according to the sign over his stall his name is Phantom.

It seemed like destiny. Shadow and Phantom, partners in crime.

I set off from the stables at a gallop toward Lord Griswald's lands on Phantom's back with the sun set in the distance. On my journey northward I notice dark menacing clouds rolling in as if pursuing me. I arrived hours later at the area along the edge of the forest where the attacks had taken place by nightfall. By this time my quarry the storm clouds have caught up to me and now stand above me threatening with a steady wind with the promise of heavy rain.

The cloak of dark now draped over the land and the tree line separating the farmlands and the edge of the forest of Erwin. The storm clouds blowing in block the moon and stars deepening the darkness of the night. Sitting atop phantom I check the map provided by the guild confirming I am in the correct location. I use a faint light spell to orient myself as I follow the path into the forest. Before entering the forest, I tie phantom up to a tree at the start of the forest trail. I pat him on the head and say "I'll be right back. stay right here." Shadows stretch long and thin, twisting around me as I step under the dark canopy. The forest seems to be alive with movement, a snap of a twig here, a rustle of leaves there. Each sound sends a shiver of awareness through me, sharpening my senses, but I press on, searching the forest floor for signs of wolves.

A soft drizzle turns into steady rain, transforming the ground beneath my feet into a slick, muddy mess. As I tread deeper into the heart of the forest, I start to wonder if all forests at night feel this eerie. But just as that thought flickers through my mind, a sudden weight crashes into me from the side.

The attack comes without warning. Before I have a chance to draw my sword, something large and hairy latches onto my right arm, dragging me down with a brutal force. Mud splashes as I hit the ground, the rough wood of my puppet form grinding against sharp teeth and claws. The massive wolf shakes its head violently, and in an instant, my arm splinters, ripping from my body with a sickening crack.

For a moment, my mind blanks, the giant wolf still biting and clawing at my chest. Then panic floods in watching it's fearsome jaws rip my armored chest plate off and crushing it. I regain my senses and kick hard with both feet, throwing the wolf off me and crashing into a thick tree trunk. I cast a barrier to fend off a second wolf lunging from the left, but my fractured concentration leaves openings. More wolves rush forward, snarling, eyes gleaming in the dark, ripping at my cloak and clawing deep into the wooden frame of my body.

In desperation, I hurl Fire Lance spells from the ground, each one a blazing streak of destruction. One, two, three wolves are struck, their bodies hurled backward as fiery bolts tear through them, leaving gaping, charred wounds. Their lifeless forms slam into the ground with sickening thuds. I continue casting in rapid succession, each spell roaring into the darkness. Some strike true, while others miss, shattering trees and sending them crashing down around me. The relentless barrage drains me quickly, and I can feel my mana reserves dwindling.

I need to get off the ground!

I summon a wall of fire, the flames roaring to life as they encircle me. The searing heat forces the wolves back, giving me just enough time to get to my feet and to grab my sword with my remaining hand. I can't rely on magic alone. At this rate my mana is going to run out. If it runs out, my enchantment will end, leaving this puppet to collapse uselessly.

The remaining wolves encircle me, their snarls echoing through the dark as the torrent of fire shielding me begins to sputter and die. With the flames fading, the beasts retreat into the shadows, their bloodthirsty maws just out of sight. I can barely see them now, but I can hear them—the low growls, the scrape of claws on wet ground.

Then, they pounce.

Gripping my sword tightly, I swipe at where I think the nearest wolf is. The blade connects, slicing through fur and bone with a sickening crunch, spraying blood into the rain. But the others keep coming, their claws tearing into me from every side, their jaws snapping at my wooden frame.

I swing wildly, striking true only occasionally, my blade often meeting empty air. The wolves are unrelenting, ripping me apart piece by piece. One sinks its teeth into the side of my head, shattering part of my mask and ripping out my right eye. My vision halves as I thrust my blade into its neck, sending a torrent of blood over me. I throw the beast off me, sending it crashing to the ground at my feet.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

I keep fighting, hacking and slashing, each move more desperate than the last. My strikes grow frantic as panic overtakes precision. In the chaos, another wolf lunges, its jaws closing around my hand. With a brutal shake, it knocks my sword from my grip, the blade landing in the mud with a dull thud far out of reach.

My sword! and I don't have mana for another spell. I'm screwed!

Desperation consumes me. With no other options, I lunge for my severed arm, gripping it tightly. Wielding it like a club, I swing with everything I have, battering the last wolf repeatedly until it collapses.

Finally, silence falls. The forest is still again, save for the faint hiss of dying flames as the rain extinguishes the remnants of fire. Around me lie the broken bodies of the wolves, their blood mixing with the mud.

I stand, battered and broken, my limbs splintered, and my mask shattered, barely holding together. But it’s over.

Though this puppet body doesn’t feel pain, the sight of my shattered limbs, fractured chest, and splintered faceplate fills me with a grim sense of weariness. I have to get back to the tower. Gathering my severed arm, I stagger through the mud, retracing my steps out of the forest.

When I reach the edge of the trail, my heart sinks. Phantom lies lifeless, his body reduced to a bloody, mangled corpse, still tied to the tree. His guts spill onto the ground, torn apart by the same beasts I just fought. I stare for a moment, then force myself to move. There’s no time to hesitate. With my ride gone, I limp toward the capital on foot.

Sorry Phantom, you deserved better than that.

The rain pours relentlessly, each drop cold and heavy, but it doesn’t slow me down. Thanks to my inability to feel pain or tire, I make steady progress without rest. The trip takes all night and into the morning. By some stroke of luck, the storm’s fierce rain and wind keep the streets deserted, allowing me to slip unnoticed toward the castle’s hidden passage.

At last, I stumble into the sanctuary of the tower basement. The creaking of my shattered body is masked by the steady rumble of thunder outside. I am safe, for now, though I hardly feel victorious. All I want is to end my nightmare by returning to Ren.

Then it'll be his problem.

I ascend the stairs slowly, shadows stretching long as I reach Ren's quarters. The storm outside casts jagged flashes of lightning through the windows, illuminating the dim corridor. I push open his bedroom door and stagger inside. The real Ren lies peacefully on the bed, oblivious to the ordeal his puppet self has just endured.

I can barely hold myself up right now, my mana near empty, but with the last dregs of mana, I made sure to return to Ren. I stand in the doorway to him room, tattered, missing an arm, cloak shredded, my mask cracked and exposing a single remaining glowing eye. Lightning flashes behind me, lighting up the wrecked, monstrous silhouette I've become. I almost pity him for what he's about to experience.

Then, with the last bit of energy left, I let go and drift into nothing. My consciousness and memories return to Ren.

----------------------------------------

The puppet collapses to the ground in a heap, its severed arm landing beside it, as its consciousness floods back to Ren in a torrent of memory.

Ren bolts upright in his bed, gasping for air. It’s as if he were still in the forest, feeling every savage bite, every desperate struggle, and the splintering of wood as his limbs were torn apart. His heart pounds wildly, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Instinctively, his hands clutch at his arms, his chest, his face, expecting to find the same horrific damage Shadow endured.

But his body is whole. The realization doesn’t bring relief, only a wave of nausea as the memories settle. He remembers everything Shadow experienced, every moment of pain and terror, as if it had been his own.

The next day, Ren is visibly shaken, his exhaustion plain to see. He hasn’t slept a wink since Shadow returned, haunted by the brutal memories of his first mission. The experience lingers in his mind, a grim reminder of how unprepared he had been.

Determined to never face such a harrowing ordeal again, Ren sets to work repairing Shadow and upgrading his equipment. Every movement is deliberate, his hands steady despite the tremor in his nerves. He channels the trauma into action, focusing on making Shadow stronger and more capable.

The first change he needed to make required some research. Ren pores over books and scrolls, learning how to imbue his puppets with night vision and threat detection spells. He painstakingly integrates the enchantments into Shadow, ensuring no predator will sneak up on him again.

Next, he overhauls Shadow’s body entirely. The wooden frame, once thought sufficient, is replaced with magically reinforced steel. The process is grueling, but Ren doesn’t falter. In hindsight, he feels foolish for relying on wood—no matter how enchanted it was, it had been far too fragile for the dangers Shadow faced.

Two days later, Shadow's newly upgraded body returns to life as Ren replaces the enchantment. Shadow blinks into awareness, he sees Ren slumped on the couch beside him, dark circles under his eyes and an exhausted glaze over his expression. Ren looks like he’s barely holding himself together, as if the effort of rebuilding Shadow had wrung him dry.

Shadow wants to say something comforting, something to make his real self feel better, but no words come to mind. Instead, after a long pause, he settles on the simplest thing he can manage.

"Get some sleep, brother. Thanks for the upgrades," Shadow says, his voice low and awkward.

Ren gives a faint nod, his lips curling into the ghost of a smile, but he doesn’t reply. He leans his head back against the couch, his eyes already drifting shut as fatigue pulls him under.

Shadow rises, his steel frame moving with new precision, and quietly departs the tower to return to the Adventurer’s Guild. Their first quest was technically completed, after all, the wolves were slain, but it hadn’t been easy, and it hardly felt like a success. In many ways, it had been an overwhelming failure.

But failures are opportunities to grow. Both Shadow and Ren know this, and neither is willing to let their first stumble define them. This wasn’t the end; it was only the beginning.