The man squinted at Arion, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “You serious, kid? You don’t know about these?” He tapped the orb in his hand for emphasis. “You can buy ’em in the capital. Ever heard of Eryndor?”
Arion kept his expression neutral, though the name stirred a distant memory. He nodded slightly but didn’t answer.
The man leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “Wait. You really don’t know about this? Where’ve you been living, under a rock?”
Instead of answering, Arion deflected. “Why would the kingdom sell something like this?”
The man let out a rough laugh, shaking his head. “Why? To protect people, of course. In this kingdom, lesser immortal monsters are everywhere. You can’t take two steps into the wilds without running into one. And regular folks? They can’t fight those things. Even mage classes struggle to seal them. Not everyone’s got fancy magic to deal with immortality, y’know?”
Arion’s gaze sharpened as the man continued. “That’s where these come in. The kingdom’s been producing these orbs for years, handing hunters like us the means to take those monsters down. Sure, they cost a fortune, but with a group pooling their coin, it’s worth it. Keeps the roads safer, the villages quieter.”
The man paused to turn the orb in his fingers. “But here’s the kicker—they’re working on a new type. Supposed to be cheaper, easier to get your hands on. Not just for big-time hunters, but for regular folks too. Word is, it won’t be long before anyone can afford one. When that happens, even someone like you could make a killing.”
Arion tilted his head. “A killing?”
The man smirked, his enthusiasm growing. “Hell yeah. Immortal monster hunter’s a damn good gig. Pays better than most jobs out here. You sell the bones of one of these creatures to the kingdom, and they’ll line your pockets with gold. They’ll take the hides, the teeth, anything you’ve got. There’s a demand for it all—alchemy, crafting, who knows what else they use it for.”
He jabbed a thumb toward the roasted carcass. “See this ugly bastard? If we cart its bones back to Eryndor, we’re looking at a payout big enough to keep us fed for months. So, kid, maybe think about it. You’ve got the look of someone who’s been around danger. Ever consider turning it into a living?”
Arion’s eyes flicked back to the fire, his mind racing. The kingdom wasn’t just selling tools to negate immortality—they were arming hunters, enabling them to dismantle these creatures piece by piece for profit. And while it might seem like a boon for the people, the mana imbalance left behind painted a different picture.
Mana imbalance disrupted the natural flow of energy. It birthed monsters. Their bodies were not born of flesh but of raw, untamed mana, swirling and solidifying into dangerous beings.
But the worst came when a greater immortal monster was near. Its presence corrupted the very air, spreading like a plague. The mana it radiated carried traces of its immortal essence, tainting everything around it. From this corrupted energy, new horrors arose. Monsters, already dangerous, refined drops of immortal blood within their cores.
And with that transformation, they changed. They became lesser immortal monsters. More resilient. More savage. A greater threat than before.
He didn’t reply, simply nodding as the man clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to his companions. Arion’s thoughts swirled, the hunter’s words feeding a quiet unease. The kingdom’s motives weren’t as simple as they seemed, and the consequences of their actions felt far more dangerous than anyone around this fire understood.
---
A few days passed before Arion found himself back at the river. He’d come after hearing whispers of a villager’s disappearance.
The water still flowed, masking what hid beneath. He scanned the bank and stopped. There, half-buried in the dirt, was a shoe. It was dirty, the leather cracked and the laces frayed. Arion crouched, brushing the soil away, his hand lingering on the worn surface.
He stood slowly, eyes narrowing. His [Sealing Aura] let him sense something unnatural in the surroundings. The air around him felt wrong. Heavy. Charged. The mana imbalance was stronger now than when he’d last been here.
[Your Sealing Aura has reached level 2]
Something was here. Something hiding. He could feel it.
Arion’s grip tightened on his staff. His thoughts sharpened, slicing through the unease like a blade. A lesser immortal monster. It had to be. The erratic mana. The missing villager. The pieces fit too well.
He exhaled, long and slow, and scanned the trees. The forest loomed quiet, but he knew better. He knew it was watching. Waiting. And so was he.
Arion moved carefully, scanning the trees as he searched for the right spot. He found a patch of ground hidden by dense bush, far enough from the river to avoid notice, but close enough to keep it within earshot. It was quiet, but here he would make his stand.
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When he was done setting his camp, he sat still for a moment, letting his thoughts wander. A Monster Sealer. It wasn't just a legendary class; it was an obligation. His job was to seal the greater immortal monsters that turned mana into madness. It was dangerous work that could kill him. But someone had to do it. Someone always had to do it in every generation.
But sealing the monsters wasn’t enough for Arion. He wanted to uproot the cause entirely, to ensure no immortal monsters would ever rise again to disrupt the balance of mana. It wasn’t a new ambition—every generation of Monster Sealers had shared the same goal. Yet, none had succeeded in erasing the source of the chaos. For their sake, and for the legacy they left behind, Arion would carry their will forward.
The sun slipped lower, its golden light fading into fiery red. Shadows spilled across the forest, twisting and stretching as darkness crept closer. Then came the sounds. Faint at first, just on the edge of hearing. Wails carried on a wind that didn’t stir. They rose and fell, haunting notes that clawed at his nerves.
He closed his eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out. Slowly. The fear was there, but he didn’t let it take root. Sitting cross-legged, he placed his staff across his lap and began to meditate. The mana within him stirred. His heartbeat slowed. His mind cleared.
The wails still hung in the air, but they no longer shook him. He was ready. Whatever lurked out there in the dark, it would find him prepared.
Arion stepped out of the bush. His eyes swept the area, scanning for any sign of movement. Nothing. The river murmured softly nearby, the leaves rustling faintly in the breeze.
And then, it came.
A chill rippled through the air, freezing the breath in his lungs. He turned, but it was already behind him—a banshee. It appeared like a ghost pulled from the ether, its body translucent, its form shifting like smoke caught in a storm. Its eyes burned, twin orbs of glowing light that pierced the dark. And its voice rose, sharp and shrill, slicing through the stillness like shattered glass.
Arion activated [Mana Sight]. He saw it clearly now, the immortal blood coursing within the creature’s essence, a red stain on its spectral form. This was no ordinary monster. This was a lesser immortal monster and a spirit type on the top of it.
Before he could react, the banshee’s scream turned into a beam of pure energy. Arion twisted, throwing himself to the side just in time. The beam grazed past, striking the ground, leaving a scorched mark where he’d stood moments ago.
He barely had time to steady himself when movement above caught his attention. Two more banshees emerged. They circled him, their glowing eyes fixed on their prey.
[Your Mana Sight has reached level 2]
Arion’s [Mana Sight] flickered again. He measured their power. Above level 21. His heart clenched. Three immortal banshees, their strength combined, was more than he could handle.
But fear could wait. Arion planted his feet, his grip tightening around his staff. His breath slowed. His mind cleared. Retreat whispered to him, tempting, logical. He ignored it.
Not yet. If this was his destiny, then he would face it head-on. Alone.
A banshee's screech split the air as a beam of energy shot toward Arion. He twisted to the side, the beam missing by a hair’s breadth. Before he could regain his footing, more beams followed, streaking through the air like deadly arrows.
Arion retreated toward the forest and weaved through the trees. Each beam hit the trunks, splintering wood and sending debris flying. He could hear the banshees’ wails echoing in the distance, but he didn’t let up, anticipating their next move.
A beam shot toward him, and without hesitation, Arion thrust out his staff, releasing a pulse of mana. The shockwave collided with the beam, deflecting it harmlessly into the sky.
As he tilted his head behind a tree, he saw the banshees vanishing from view. Arion froze, his senses alive, searching for any sign of movement. The coldness in the air grew, like the embrace of death itself. They were still there.
Arion slammed his staff down, releasing a burst of energy that sent dust scattering across the clearing. In the swirling haze, the banshees’ transparent forms flickered into view, their claws stretching out.
Arion leaped out of the forest, narrowly avoiding the swipe of their sharp claws. He could feel the chill of their presence on his skin, but his focus remained unbroken.
Suddenly, a loud war cry split the air. From the treeline, a group of adventurers from a few days ago emerged. The stout barbarian led the charge. He swung his axe with all his might, meeting one banshee’s energy beam head-on. The force of the impact sent the monster reeling back, the blade sparking as it clashed against the ethereal creature’s body.
“Get back!” Arion shouted, voice hoarse. He could see the adventurers’ eyes, wide with surprise. They’d caught him in the middle of the fight.
The barbarian grunted as he took his stance, ready for the next blow. “You’re welcome, kid. What’s the situation?”
Arion’s gaze flicked to the other two banshees, still circling overhead. “They’re strong,” he said. “Level 28. They won’t go down easily.”
The female mage nodded grimly. “They are spirit type monsters. Our physical attacks won't do harm. We can only hit them with magic.”
The stout barbarian's expression hardened. "I also smell immortal blood. These banshees are lesser immortal monsters."
Arion’s expression hardened. “Don’t use the Immortal Negating Orb.”
The group looked at him, confusion flickering in their eyes. “Why not?” the mage asked, her brow furrowing.
“Using it only creates a mana imbalance,” Arion warned. “These banshees are born because of you people. If you use another Immortal Negating Orb, I don't know what terrifying monster will be born next.”
The barbarian clenched his fists, frustration clear on his face. “But that’s the whole reason we’re here!” He glanced at the banshees’ translucent forms, and a greedy glint appeared in his eyes. “The loot… we can’t just let it slip away.”
“I can end this,” he said. “My class is Monster Sealer. I’ll seal the banshees into objects. It’s the proper way to stop them.”
The stout man glared at him, his axe resting heavily against his shoulder. “A legendary class!” His voice carried the bite of disbelief. “but what’s the point? Sealed monsters are worthless. You can’t sell something locked away.”
“They’re not worthless,” Arion countered. “The kingdom can unseal them. You’ll still get your payout. Maybe even more. They’ll be safe to transport, and their value won’t diminish.”
The stout man’s brow furrowed. His grip on the axe tightened, his stance shifting as if weighing Arion’s words. “That so? Sounds like a convenient tale,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“It’s the truth,” Arion said simply, though his chest tightened with the lie. He didn’t waver. Couldn’t waver. “But you don’t have time to doubt me. The longer we fight, the more unstable this situation becomes.”
Finally, the stout man sighed, his voice gruff and begrudging. “Fine. We’ll try it your way. But if you’re lying, kid, you won’t like how this ends.”
Arion nodded. “Good. Here’s the plan. We need to immobilize them first. Use magic, force, anything you have. Once they’re pinned, I’ll inscribe the sealing runes.”