The shieldbearer surged forward and raised his massive shield. A banshee's beam of energy slammed into it, sending sparks flying through the air. His boots dug into the dirt as he held his ground, gritting his teeth against the banshee.

Off to the side, the rogue darted like a shadow. Each feint and leap drew the banshees’ glowing eyes. He let out a mocking laugh as he narrowly dodged a claw swipe.

The beast tamer barked a command, and his wolf companion lunged into action. The creature snapped at one banshee's translucent form, darting in and out. The banshee screeched in frustration, its claws swiping uselessly at the wolf.

Then came the mage. She was calm as her staff pulsed with icy light. Words of power spilled from her lips. A web of frost formed in the air and surged forward. It struck the banshees, freezing them mid-wail. Their wails grew sharper as their movements slowed and then stopped entirely.

Arion stepped forward. He raised his staff, the tip glowing with golden light. His hands moved in fluid arcs, tracing glowing symbols in the air. Runes began to form, their light illuminating the battlefield.

One by one, the runes shot forward. They struck the banshees, exploding into bursts of radiant light. The creatures writhed, their forms flickering as the runes latched on, binding them with threads of mana. Their cries twisted into something shrill, the sound grating against the adventurers’ ears.

"Now!" Arion shouted.

The adventurers responded in unison. The mage unleashed another spell, a barrage of ice shards piercing through the banshees. The shieldbearer charged forward, his shield glowing as he slammed it into one banshee. The rogue’s daggers danced, slicing through the air with precision, while the beast tamer’s wolf lunged for a final attack.

As the banshees weakened, Arion took a deep breath and thrust his staff downward. The runes blazed brighter, their light overwhelming the banshees. The creatures imploded into wisps of light, sucked into the glowing runes.

The runes condensed into three cards, each one etched with symbols. They fell to the ground with a soft thud.

The stout man crouched low, his fingers brushing dirt from the glowing cards. He picked one up, turning it over slowly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the faint pulse of energy trapped within. “So these things really work?” he asked.

Arion stood still, his expression unreadable. He watched as the man passed the card to his companions. The mage held it, her fingers tracing the runes. The rogue gave a half-hearted glance, while the beast tamer’s wolf bared its teeth, sniffing the air around the cards with a wary growl.

“They’ll hold the banshees,” Arion said at last. “But I’ll say this again—using Immortal Negating Orbs is dangerous. They don’t just stop mana. They distort it. Unbalance it. Monsters like these are born from that imbalance.”

The mage scoffed, lowering the card with a flick of her wrist. “And what do you expect us to do about it? These orbs are standard issue. Without them, no guild would last a week out here.”

“She’s right,” the stout man added. He shoved the cards into his pack and rose. “You’ve got ideals, kid. Good for you. But we’ve got mouths to feed. Don’t expect us to risk everything because you don’t like how the kingdom runs things.”

The words hit like stones. Arion wanted to argue, but their hardened faces left little room for persuasion. These were survivors, not dreamers.

As they packed their gear, readying to leave, the stout man gave him a final nod. It wasn’t gratitude, nor camaraderie. Just acknowledgment. Without another word, they disappeared into the forest, their chatter fading into the shadows.

Arion lingered. The ground where the cards had fallen still hummed with residual mana. He exhaled, long and slow, his grip tightening on his staff.

The kingdom’s tools are no solution. They're a crutch. Quick fixes for wounds they refuse to heal.

Monsters like the banshees would return. Their existence was inevitable, born from the same flawed system the adventurers defended. And here he stood, tasked with sealing them away.

His shoulders felt heavy, but his resolve held firm. If the world refused to change, he would be the one to challenge it. To stop the tide, not just push it back.

The forest swallowed him in its quiet embrace as he turned, leaving the river behind. Darkness deepened, but Arion walked on, carrying purpose on his back.

---

The clatter of hooves against stone announced their arrival before the villagers even saw them. Master Lorien led the procession. He sat tall on a black stallion. A crimson cape spilled over his shoulders. His face remained impassive, but his eyes cut through the villagers like a blade.

Behind him, five figures moved in perfect formation, their armor shining as if untouched by dirt or time. The swordsman rested his hand on his hilt, while the mage in azure robes seemed to drift forward, her fingertips tracing runes in the air. The archer scanned the rooftops, and the two knights brought up the rear, their shields bearing the crest of the kingdom.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Villagers froze at the sight. Mothers clutched their children. Merchants shrank back, their chatter snuffed out like a candle in a draft. Whispers rippled through the crowd.

“It’s her. Master Lorien Velatrix.”

“The kingdom’s enforcer.”

“Why is he here?”

Lorien's lips pressed into a thin line as he dismounted, boots clicking against the dirt road. The air was thick with residual mana, an unseen current that tugged at his senses. He held up a hand, halting his team. “Something happened in this village. Do you feel it?”

The mage stepped forward, her crystal orb already in hand. It pulsed faintly, responding to the residue left behind. “A mana residue in the distance. A sealing spell was used there.”

Lorien's expression tightened, though his voice remained calm. “So, the Monster Sealer was here.”

The swordsman snorted. “A Monster Sealer working outside the kingdom’s control. Brave, or foolish.”

“Foolish, indeed,” Lorien agreed, his gaze sweeping over the villagers. “Look at the sky. The land. Whatever they sealed, it’s gone—but the damage remains. These imbalances ripple, and the longer they’re left, the worse they’ll become. This is caused by the Monster Sealer. Where there’s a Monster Sealer, there’s a trouble. And I intend to punish him. If anyone saw someone suspicious, I shall reward you for the information, but remember this...if you lie, you will regret it.”

One villager hesitated before stepping forward. “M-my Lord” he stammered, “there was... a boy. He carried a staff. Left not long ago, toward the forest.”

Lorien's eyes locked onto him, and the man shrank back. He gave a curt nod. "I will give you your reward at the guild's tavern by evening." Then he turned to her team. “Prepare to move. We hunt.”

Master Lorien mounted his steed once more, his cape sweeping behind him like a banner of blood. As the team rode off, the villagers watched in silence, their fear mingled with awe.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the village as Lorien's team returned, their expressions unsatisfied. No trail, no Monster Sealer. Their pursuit had yielded nothing.

Lorien dismounted. He turned to his group with a cold expression. “Split up. Question the villagers. Someone knows something.”

His team dispersed across the village. The villagers greeted them with wary eyes and trembling hands. One by one, they recounted the recent events.

“The banshees came first,” stammered a farmer, his hat clutched tightly in his hands. “Then this... this man fought them with five hunters. Tall. Young. He wielded a staff, but it wasn’t just magic he used. It was...”

“Something else,” finished his wife, her voice hushed. “He used this something to seal the banshees. He didn’t linger. Took care of the monsters, then left.”

“Did he say where he was going?” pressed the swordsman, his broad frame looming over her.

She shook her head quickly. “No. Just left after... after sealing them.”

Sealing. It wasn’t common magic. It wasn’t something any mage could do.

Elsewhere in the village, Lotien stood motionless, watching the exchanges from afar. Every second without a lead was another moment lost. Then one of his many scouts returned.

“My Lord,” he called. “We found a group of adventurers nearby. They have... unusual monster-sealing cards. Glowing, with bizarre runes.”

His gaze snapped to him. “Bring them to me,” he ordered. “Now.”

The scout nodded and rushed off. Lorien's team regrouped, their faces drawn tight with unspoken questions.

The mage spoke first. “Do you think it’s him? The Monster Sealer?”

“If it’s not,” Lorien replied, "they may still know something useful.”

His teammates exchanged glances. The swordsman folded his arms. “With respect, Master, we’ve been chasing shadows for days. Is this truly worth—”

He cut him off with a glare. “You question my judgment?”

A moment of silence passed. Then, the swordsman looked away, muttering, “No, my lord.”

But the doubt lingered. His relentless pursuit of the Monster Sealer gnawed at the fabric of their unity. They obeyed, but cracks had begun to form.

Lorien stood motionless, his cape stirring faintly in the breeze. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon. Somewhere out there, he was slipping further from her grasp. Not for long, she promised herself.

Not for long.

The adventurers stumbled into the heart of the village, their confidence shrinking with every step. Serida’s soldiers formed a perimeter around them.

Lorien stood at the center. His crimson cape caught the breeze, flaring like a banner of blood. His gaze pinned the adventurers in place. He took a step forward, and the air seemed to grow colder.

"I have heard you have teamed up with a Monster Sealer," he said, his voice carrying a quiet, menacing weight. "Care to explain?"

The stout man shifted uncomfortably, his fingers twitching near his belt. "We... we handled the banshees," he stammered, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Mostly."

"Mostly?" Lorien's lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

The rogue spoke next, his words spilling out in a rush. "That Monster Sealer did the hard part. We just, uh, helped."

His gaze didn’t waver. "And these?" He gestured toward the monster cards clutched in the stout man’s hand.

He hesitated, then held them out. "The Sealer said we could sell them. Kingdom pays well for stuff like this, right?"

A silence fell. Then Lorien laughed softly—a sound so delicate it sent a shiver down their spines. "Oh, my dear fools. He lied to you."

The stout man’s jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"

Lorien stepped closer, taking the cards. He turned them over, studying the intricate runes etched into their surface. A faint glow pulsed from the seals, like trapped breaths of light. "These are not ordinary seals. The kingdom cannot unseal them. They’re useless to you."

The beast tamer cursed under his breath. "That bastard tricked us!"

"Perhaps." Lorien's tone softened. "But you fought bravely. You acted with courage, even in the face of deceit." He paused, letting his words linger. Then his smile grew. "I’ve decided to help you."

The group exchanged wary glances.

"I’ll buy these cards from you," Lorien continued. "At a fair price, of course. But I need you to tell me everything about this Monster Sealer. Who he is, where he went—every detail matters."

The stout man hesitated, then nodded. "Fine," he muttered. "We’ll tell you what we know."

Piece by piece, the story unfolded. The rogue described the Sealer’s staff and the rune magic he’d cast. The beast tamer spoke of the strange aura that clung to him. The mage recounted his appearance, and finally, the stout man gestured westward. "That’s where he headed," he said. "Beyond the woods, you will find a river. He follows the river path leading to a mountain."

Lorien listened in silence, his expression serene. When they finished, he handed the stout man a pouch of coins. "Thank you," he said. "You’ve done well."

As the adventurers shuffled away, relief etched on their faces, Lorien's smile faded. His fingers tightened around the cards, and his eyes gleamed with cold intent.

He turned to his lieutenant. "Prepare the men," he ordered. "We’re moving out."

The lieutenant hesitated. "My lord, is this truly worth—"

"Do not question me. This is the king's decree," he snapped.