Year 400, Duskrend Wildlands
Takaya crouched behind the bush, heart hammering, boots sinking into the damp earth. The screams had stopped, leaving only the hiss of Duskrend's wind threading through skeletal trees. The woman and the girl were pinned, trembling, faces pale against the monster's bone-white skin. Its limbs twisted in impossible angles, spines jutting through its back like shards of night.
He didn't think.
His legs moved first, driven by something older than reason. Every instinct screamed to protect, to act, even before his mind could catch up.
Branches whipped across his face, roots tried to snag him, but he forced himself forward, muscles coiled and ready. The monster's head turned, nostrils flaring, sensing him. Its triple-split maw gaped in anticipation.
This was Takaya's first challenge, the world seemed to whisper, and it would not forgive hesitation.
He crept closer, hand tightening around Solthar's hilt. The blade hadn't answered him yet—it had waited, patient, for this moment. His fingers brushed the smooth metal, and a faint warmth pulsed through him.
The woman raised her weapon, trembling. The little girl clung to her side, wide-eyed, gripping a splintered piece of wood like a shield. Takaya swallowed the lump of fear in his throat.
The Veyl's voice slithered into his mind.
"You're still slow. Still stubborn. But you're alive. Use it. Now."
Takaya's lungs filled with cold air. He exhaled through his nose. One step. Then another.
The monster lunged.
Takaya's body reacted before thought. He surged forward, shoulder-first, aiming to shove the creature back. Its arm shot out, a backhand that slammed him into the side of a cliff. Pain flared through his ribs, stealing breath.
Takaya got up, the monster's arm, raised for a second strike, cut clean off. Solthar flared in his hand, its blade singing through the rain-damp air.
Takaya's eyes widened. The Veyl's voice pierced his mind again, sharper this time.
"Finally. You feel it now. Solthar is yours—but you must learn its rhythm. Not mine. Yours."
Pain and adrenaline mixed as he scrambled back to his feet. The monster growled, its elongated limbs twitching, spine thrumming unnaturally. Takaya gritted his teeth.
He had Solthar. He had the strength to fight. And for the first time in Duskrend, he understood that survival was not just moving—survival was becoming.
He readied himself. The monster lunged again, faster this time, claws scraping stone. Takaya ducked, countered, and slashed. Sparks of intent and will flew from Solthar's edge as the first true battle began.
The monster screeched, its voice splitting the air like rusted steel grinding together. It lunged low, claws sweeping in a wide arc meant to rip Takaya open from the hip.
Takaya's instincts screamed. He twisted aside, Solthar flashing in a crude parry. The impact rattled his bones, the blade biting deep into the creature's claw but not enough to sever it.
The force still knocked him backward, boots skidding across mud and stone.
"Clumsy," the Veyl hissed in his head. "But you live. Again!"
The monster pressed forward, relentless. Its severed stump twitched grotesquely, blood spraying in black arcs across the dirt. It didn't care about pain. It only wanted flesh.
The woman gasped, pulling the girl tighter to her chest. They couldn't run. Not with the beast between them and the road.
Takaya charged, blade raised. He wasn't fast, not yet, but Solthar moved with him. The katana shimmered faintly, its edge keener than his own strength.
He slashed upward. The monster dodged, too quick, but not quick enough. Solthar carved a line across its chest, black ichor spilling out in steaming rivulets.
The creature shrieked, retaliating with a jagged thrust of its remaining claw. Takaya tried to pivot, too slow—
Pain exploded in his shoulder. The claw tore through flesh, hot blood spilling down his arm.
Takaya's knees buckled. His vision blurred. For a moment, everything slowed—the beast looming over him, its rancid breath thick with rot, its jaw opening to devour.
The Veyl's voice cut through the haze.
"On your feet. Strike with intent. Remember what Solthar is—it does not strike flesh. It strikes will. Show it yours."
Takaya gritted his teeth, fire burning through the fog of pain. His grip tightened around Solthar's hilt.
He thrust upward, not at the creature's flesh, but at the certainty of its kill.
Solthar answered.
The blade sang, cleaving through the monster's neck in a single, impossible stroke. Black blood sprayed like rain, the body convulsing before crumpling to the earth. Its head rolled, eyes dimming, maw frozen in a final snarl.
Silence fell, broken only by Takaya's ragged breathing. His wounded shoulder burned, blood soaking his sleeve, each throb threatening to drag him into unconsciousness.
The little girl whimpered, clutching her mother.
Takaya staggered, Solthar still in his grip, the weight of what just happened crashing into him. His legs shook, threatening collapse.
The woman's voice, trembling but firm, broke the silence.
"...You're hurt. Come with us. Please."
Takaya swayed, eyes flickering between her and the corpse. His body screamed for rest, but somewhere deep inside, he knew this was only the beginning.
Takaya swayed on his feet, his breath ragged. The world tilted, colors dimming at the edges. Solthar was still in his hand, slick with ichor that steamed faintly in the cooling night air.
"You're bleeding out," the Veyl said flatly. "Pathetic. One scratch and you're already ready to fold? Keep standing."
Takaya clenched his teeth, forcing his knees to lock. "Shut up…" he rasped. The words came out weak, barely above a whisper.
The woman approached slowly, cautious even now. She looked at the monster's corpse as if it might still rise, then at the young man before her, his shoulder torn and blood running freely.
"You'll die if you stay here," she said, voice low but steady. "Come. I'll treat your wound."
Takaya's first instinct was to refuse. He didn't know her. Didn't know this place. Duskrend had taught him suspicion at every step. But his body betrayed him—his knees buckled, and only by planting Solthar's blade into the dirt did he keep himself from collapsing outright.
The girl, pale-faced and trembling, peeked from behind her mother's arm. Her eyes locked on Takaya, then darted to the decapitated corpse, and finally she gagged again, retching bile onto the grass.
Takaya looked away, jaw tight. He wasn't used to people seeing him like this—half-dead, filthy, bloodied, barely clinging to control.
"Takaya," the Veyl murmured, quieter now, "if you want to survive Duskrend, take her offer. Pride is a luxury corpses don't get to keep."
Takaya swallowed hard, tasting iron. His arm throbbed with every beat of his heart. He nodded, just once.
The woman wasted no time. She slung one of his arms over her shoulder, her own body straining under his weight, but she didn't falter.
"Hold still," she said firmly. "My home isn't far. Just a little further. Stay awake."
Takaya grunted, forcing his eyes open as darkness threatened to drag him under. His boots dragged against the road, every step an eternity. The girl trailed close behind, silent except for the occasional sniffle.
Solthar crumbled in his grasp, scattering into ash that bled away into the Veyl. Yet Takaya still felt it, a presence humming faintly in the back of his mind. A reminder that he wasn't completely helpless anymore.
The Veyl's voice followed, almost amused.
"You've finally touched it. Solthar. Not borrowed, not stolen through me—but yours. Remember this pain. It's the price you'll pay every time until you learn control."
Takaya didn't answer. His throat was dry, his thoughts fractured. All he could do was put one foot in front of the other, guided by the woman's steady grip, the sound of her daughter's small steps, and the faint hope that wherever she was leading him wasn't another kind of grave.
The road bent sharply, opening into a small clearing tucked between the forest and the slope of the mountains. At its heart stood a modest cottage, built from dark timber and stone, smoke curling faintly from its chimney. The windows glowed with the faint orange of a hearth, a fragile promise of warmth in the endless cold of Duskrend.
Takaya's knees buckled again, but the woman steadied him with surprising strength.
"Inside," she said, voice clipped but not unkind. "Quickly."
The girl rushed ahead, pushing the door open. The warmth hit Takaya like a wave—smoke, herbs, and the faint aroma of stew clinging to the air. For a moment, it felt unreal, like stepping out of a nightmare into a memory he didn't know he had.
"Sit," the woman commanded, lowering him onto a rough wooden chair near the hearth. She wasted no time gathering cloth, a bowl of steaming water, and a small tin of ointment from a shelf.
Takaya hissed as she tore his sleeve open. The gash across his shoulder was deep, flesh ragged where the monster's claws had torn into him. Blood seeped freely, staining the floorboards.
"You're lucky," she muttered, pressing a cloth hard against the wound. "Another inch and you'd have no arm left."
Takaya gritted his teeth, muscles rigid against the pain. The girl hovered near the doorway, eyes wide, hugging herself as if afraid to step closer.
"You saved us," she whispered, voice small and trembling.
Takaya blinked at her, caught off guard. "I… didn't do much."
The woman's hands were firm, efficient, ignoring his words. "You did enough. Now hold still, or I'll botch this stitch and you'll have one arm to curse me with."
The Veyl chuckled low in his mind. "She's got more spine than you. Careful—you might actually owe someone before long."
Takaya ignored him, biting down on the inside of his cheek as the woman threaded a needle with shaking hands but steady focus. Each stitch burned, but he endured, staring into the fire instead of the pain.
Minutes stretched. The girl finally crept closer, placing a small cup of water near his good hand. Takaya's fingers shook as he lifted it, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat.
The woman tied off the last stitch and leaned back, wiping her brow. "There. Crude, but it'll hold. You'll keep the arm."
Takaya exhaled, leaning against the chair. He wasn't sure if it was relief, exhaustion, or just the heat of the fire, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his body loosened.
The woman rose, meeting his eyes. "You're staying here tonight. Tomorrow, we'll decide what comes next."
Takaya wanted to protest, but his body betrayed him again—his vision swam, heavy and slow. His only answer was a faint nod before the weight of exhaustion pressed him deeper into the chair.
The Veyl's voice drifted in the silence of his mind, almost soft now.
"Rest. Duskrend isn't done with you yet."
Takaya leaned back, muscles trembling as the warmth from the fire seeped into him. The woman—Lira, he now knew—moved around the small cottage with quiet efficiency, stacking herbs and checking the simmering pot of stew. The little girl, Eri, sat cross-legged on the floor, tracing shapes in the dust with a stick, silent but observing him with wide, careful eyes.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Takaya felt like a stranger in a world that was simultaneously kind and cruel.
Finally, he broke the silence. "What… what is this place?" His voice was hoarse.
Lira paused, glancing at him. Her eyes were sharp, but not unkind. "Home," she said simply. "For now."
He didn't press further. He could see it in the way she moved, the way she spoke—there were no lies here, no pretense. She was as worn as the forest outside, but steady, grounded.
The girl tilted her head. "Are you going to hurt us?"
Takaya blinked. The question stung. "No. Never," he said quietly, though his hands trembled at the memory of the monster, the blood, the screams.
Eri considered him, then nodded, retreating a few steps to her makeshift perch. "I like you," she said.
The Veyl muttered in his mind, almost amused. "Careful. One wrong move and the girl's trust snaps like dry wood."
Takaya gave a faint shrug. "I like you too." Not entirely true—he liked them, but he liked them because they were fragile, human, and alive. He wasn't sure he deserved that.
"Sit," Lira said, gesturing to the bench near the hearth. She settled across from him, hands folded in her lap. Her gaze softened, just slightly. "You need to eat. I know you've been starving."
He hesitated. "Is she your daughter?" His eyes flicked to Eri.
Lira's expression stiffened, a shadow crossing her features. "No." She didn't elaborate. The firelight danced across her face, illuminating lines of exhaustion, scars of hard living. "Slavers left her for being defective. I found her… she was almost gone. I couldn't leave her there."
Takaya's stomach twisted. The cruelty of the world, the coldness of strangers, the way Duskrend mirrored that—he understood it all now more than ever. Yet the girl sitting quietly, hands in her lap, seemed untouched by bitterness. Fragile, yes—but alive.
Lira's eyes darkened with a vague, distant pain. "I grew up here with my father. Never anywhere else. This place… is all I've ever known. It's safe. I protect it. And her." Her gaze flicked to Eri. "That's enough."
The girl fidgeted, tugging at a frayed corner of her sleeve. "I'm not afraid of you," she said. "But monsters scare me. And you fought one."
Takaya exhaled, leaning back. "Yeah." His voice was tight. "It didn't feel heroic. Just… necessary."
The Veyl whispered in his mind, low and approving. Finally, honesty. Keep it. Don't lie to them—yet.
Lira nodded once. "Necessary is all that matters. You kept her safe."
For the first time, Takaya let himself absorb the warmth of the hearth, the quiet steadiness of these two people who had known suffering and survived it. He didn't smile—he didn't dare—but something inside him eased. Not peace. Not safety. But a pause in the relentless pressure of survival.
The Veyl's voice softened. "You've survived the first test. But Duskrend will ask more of you, and it will ask soon."
Takaya didn't respond. He simply reached for the bowl of stew Lira had set before him.
Eri watched him carefully, then offered, "If you stay, you have to help with chores."
He glanced at her, caught in a small, almost human moment of levity. "I can do that," he said, voice rough but willing.
She smiled faintly, and for the first time in days, he felt something like… belonging.
The cottage, the fire, the smell of herbs, and the girl's quiet defiance against the world—it wasn't much. But it was enough to remind him that survival wasn't just about fighting monsters. Sometimes it was about finding a reason to fight for.
And for the first time, Takaya understood that Duskrend wasn't just testing his strength—it was testing his humanity.