The village appeared as the trees thinned, its thatched roofs basking under the golden light of a fading sun. Smoke rose in gentle spirals from chimneys, carrying the faint scent of roasting meat. The streets buzzed with life—vendors shouting their prices, children’s laughter ringing clear, and the soft clatter of wheels over cobblestones.

Arion walked through the gate. He made his way to the Hunter’s Guild. Inside, the air was warm. Voices hummed around him—hunters swapping stories, planning their next hunts. At the counter, a woman glanced up. She had bagged eyes, her bun slipping loose as though it shared her exhaustion.

“Can I help you Mr. Hunter?” she asked, her tone as dry as the parchment in front of her.

Arion unslung his bundle, setting it down with care. The quest scroll came first. Then came wolf fangs, and a handful of coarse fur. “The forest’s a little quieter now,” he said simply.

The woman leaned forward, inspecting the proof. Finally, she nodded. “You’ve earned this.” The pouch of coins hit the counter with a muted jingle. “Thank you for your service. I pray for you a safe hunt. Those woods don’t forgive mistakes.”

“They won’t get the chance,” Arion replied, pocketing the coins before leaving.

Outside, the marketplace greeted him with noise. Brightly colored canopies stretched overhead, shading rows of goods. The calls of merchants filled the air, each one louder than the last.

“Fresh bread, still warm!”

“Knives, rope, flint—everything for the road!”

He stopped at a stall with hanging strips of dried meat swaying gently in the breeze. “How much for the jerky?”

The vendor, a wiry man with a beard as wild as the forest itself, grinned. “For a traveler like you? Five coins. But it’ll keep you alive out there.”

Arion handed him the payment and moved on. Supplies followed: a roll of bandages, oil for his lantern, and a whetstone to keep his staff ready. The weight of his pack grew heavier.

He scanned the crowd for a moment before approaching a merchant arranging crates of apples. “Excuse me,” he said. “Where’s the nearest tavern?”

The merchant straightened, eyeing him with a quick once-over. “Just down that way,” he said, nodding toward a side street where a sign with a painted mug swayed gently in the breeze. “Can’t miss it.”

Arion nodded his thanks and turned, his staff tapping lightly on the cobblestones as he walked. The tavern came into view quickly. Faint laughter filtered through the thick wooden door. He pushed the door open, and the warmth of the room embraced him instantly.

Inside, a fire roared in the hearth. Villagers clustered around sturdy wooden tables, tankards in hand, voices rising and falling like waves.

Arion made his way to the counter, where a stout innkeeper wiped a tankard with a worn rag. “What’ll it be?” the man asked.

“Food,” Arion replied, placing a few coins on the counter. “Whatever’s ready.”

The innkeeper took the coins and motioned to a serving girl, who soon returned with a bowl of steaming stew and a chunk of crusty bread. Arion carried the meal to an empty table near the hearth and settled in. As he ate, he listened the conversations around him.

“...near the river again,” a gray-haired man murmured at the next table. “Third time this month. Livestock torn to pieces.”

Another man leaned in. “And the disappearances? You can’t tell me that’s wolves.”

“Strange lights too,” someone added. “Green and blue, flickering over the water at night. Like the river’s cursed.”

A drunken laugh broke the murmurs. The man waved a half-empty mug in the air as he spoke, “Cursed, you say? More like...eyes. Eyes in the dark. Glowing, like embers, staring right at you."

Arion approached the man and asked, "Where is this river? How do I find it?”

The drunk squinted at him, then laughed again. “You want to see it, eh? Follow the road east out of the village. When it forks, take the left path. You’ll know you’re close. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, stranger. The thing by that river... they ain’t natural.”

Arion nodded once and stepped back, the drunk’s laughter trailing behind him as he left. He glanced east, where the road lay. Whatever waited near the river, it wasn’t just a rumor. That much was certain.

And he intended to find out exactly what it was.

Arion followed the villagers’ directions, entering the forest ahead of the left turn of the fork path. When the trees parted, the river came into view. Dense trees lined the banks, their roots twisting into the soil like gnarled hands gripping the earth.

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Arion’s sharp eyes caught the first sign of trouble. Deep claw marks scored the trunks of several trees near the riverbank. He stepped closer, running his fingers along one of the grooves. The marks were clean and deliberate, the kind left by something powerful.

The ground nearby told more of the story. Large reptilians footprints pressed into the soil. Two hind legs. No forelimbs. They led straight to the river’s edge.

Arion knelt at the water’s edge, his gaze sweeping across the stones scattered along the bank. His brow furrowed as he noticed faint etchings carved into several of them. The symbols were faded and broken. He moved closer, brushing his hand over one of the markings. The energy they once contained was faint but still present.

These sealing arts were crude compared to the techniques Arion had learned. They lacked precision, their structure unstable. He stood, scanning the area, his senses picking up more signs of mana imbalance. The trees near the river leaned unnaturally, as though pushed by an unseen force. The soil beneath his feet felt loose, almost brittle.

Arion’s thoughts turned grim. Whoever had tried to seal something here had failed, and their failure had consequences. Mana disturbed by unstable techniques could ripple outward, warping the environment and destabilizing nearby life. He frowned, taking in the signs of decay around him. The forest here bore scars, both physical and magical.

His grip on his staff tightened as he looked back at the fading wards. Their energy felt faintly familiar, like a pale reflection of his own sealing arts—but twisted. Whoever had tried this either lacked knowledge or had been desperate enough to take shortcuts. The results were destabilized mana, destruction, and failure.

Standing by the river, Arion let out a slow breath. If this was connected to the unnatural creature the villagers had described, then its presence wasn’t just a threat—it was part of the imbalance. And if the sealing wards hadn’t worked, it would be up to him to fix what they could not.

Arion paced the riverbank. His eyes roamed the surroundings, scanning for signs of movement, any ripple in the water, or a shadow lurking beneath its surface. The gurgling flow of the river and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by the breeze. He paused, crouching again to inspect the faint footprints trailing into the water. They were the hind legs of a reptilian. But there was no sign of the creature itself.

The faint smell of smoke pulled his attention downstream. He followed it, stepping carefully along the uneven terrain, until voices reached his ears. Ahead, a group of hunters had set up camp near a bend in the river. Several tents were pitched haphazardly, their fabric fluttering lightly in the wind. A fire burned at the camp’s center, its smoke curling lazily into the sky.

As Arion drew closer, he caught sight of the source of the commotion. Over the fire, the hunters were roasting the carcass of a humanoid crocodile. It was large and grotesque—its bar body was charred, and its elongated snout filled with jagged teeth. But it was the legs that caught his attention. They were nmistakably matched the footprints he had seen earlier.

The hunters laughed and joked as they turned the spit, their words too distant to catch. Arion hesitated, but his curiosity gnawed at him. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward.

One of the hunters glanced up, a broad-shouldered man with a scruffy beard and a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You lost, stranger?" he called out.

Arion shook his head, his gaze fixed on the roasted creature. "That monster," he said, gesturing toward it. "Did it live in this river?"

The hunters exchanged glances, then chuckled as if the question amused them. The bearded man stepped closer, wiping his hands on a rag. "Sure did. Mean bastard, too. Took us three days to track it down. Would’ve cost a few lives if we weren’t careful."

Arion frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied the creature. Its lifeless eyes stared into nothing. "The villagers mentioned something unnatural. Glowing eyes. Mana storms that it caused. Are you sure this is the same monster?"

The hunter shrugged. "Ain’t seen no glowing eyes or storms, but this thing’s been causing trouble. Livestock gone missing, people scared to come near the water. Seems unnatural enough to me." He smirked, slapping the creature. "Whatever it was, it’s dinner now."

“Mind if I ask another question?” he said.

The bearded man who’d spoken earlier raised a brow. “Ask away, stranger, but we ain’t here for an interrogation.”

Arion ignored the jab. “Does anyone in your group have the Sealer class?”

The man blinked, then let out a short bark of laughter. “Sealer class? Isn't that a legendary class? Never seen someone with that class."

The other hunters snickered, shaking their heads, but Arion didn’t join in. He studied the man’s face carefully. His expression held no guile, his tone no hint of a lie. Still, something felt... wrong. It wasn’t in the words but in the air itself.

“How’d you manage to take down a lesser immortal monster, then?” Arion asked.

The man snorted, looking at him as if he’d just asked whether water was wet. “Aren't you a newbie lad? With an Immortal Negating Orb, of course. How else do you think hunters like us deal with these things?”

“Immortal... Negating Orb?” Arion repeated.

The man grinned again, clearly enjoying the opportunity to explain. He reached into a pouch slung at his side and pulled out a small, glowing sphere. Its surface shimmered with purple light, faint runes swirling beneath the glassy exterior. “This little beauty. One-time use, sure, but it’ll strip the immortality right off a lesser immortal monster. Makes it mortal. Makes it killable. Costs a fortune, though, so we don’t waste ‘em on just anything.”

Arion leaned in, his staff resting lightly against the ground. “Can I hold it?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, his grin taking on a harder edge. “You can, but if you try to rob me, you’ll regret it.” His tone was light, but the unspoken threat was clear.

Arion nodded. He extended a hand, and the man placed the orb in his palm with a cautious eye.

The orb hummed faintly, its energy thrumming against Arion’s skin. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing on the flow of mana within it. It felt familiar yet foreign. Sealing energy coursed through the orb, but its design was specific. It didn’t seal monsters in the traditional sense. Instead, it sealed their immortality aspect.

But there was a flaw. A residue of chaotic energy that would bleed into the environment upon use. Mana imbalance. That explained the distorted terrain and unstable mana he’d sensed earlier.

Arion opened his eyes and handed the orb back. “This thing causes mana disturbances after it’s used. Where did you buy this?"