A swarm of enormous bats descended from all directions, shrieking with piercing cries that stabbed at the ears and wracked the minds of all present.
Even the most seasoned warriors among them now wore expressions of pure fear.
Arrows were fired wildly.
Weapons swung without aim.
Kaen tried to calm them, but there were simply too many bats. He could barely defend himself.
In the chaos, one bat dove at him and tore off a bloodstained scrap of fabric from his abdomen.
A black silk ribbon—obtained just yesterday from the female vampire—tumbled to the ground.
The moment the ribbon touched the earth, the bats suddenly shrieked in unison and scattered, their movements abrupt, as though they had sensed something unnatural. They didn't flee entirely, however—they began to circle overhead, forming a tense aerial ring around the group.
Noticing that the bats had stopped attacking, the group slowly ceased their frenzied movements. Gasping for breath, they looked around with lingering fear in their eyes.
Kaen's gaze locked on the fallen ribbon. Realization dawned—it had belonged to that vampire. That must be it.
The swarm of vampire bats had likely sensed the aura of a high-ranking vampire from the ribbon and dared not approach.
He quickly retrieved the ribbon and held it high above his head. Instantly, the circling bats flapped farther away, keeping a respectful distance.
"Lord Kaen!"
The others saw his actions. Though they didn't fully understand the cause, they could guess that the ribbon had something to do with the bats' sudden retreat. One after another, they gathered close around him.
"Move! We can't linger here. Who knows what other horrors this cursed forest holds."
With those words, Kaen led them onward, deeper into the woods.
This was no narrow cave passage that allowed them to fend off wargs and orcs six at a time. They had no escape route left. They either crossed the cursed forest ahead—or were torn apart by the trolls and wargs at their backs.
They advanced with utmost caution. The bats continued circling above, their cries gnawing at the nerves and making every step feel heavier than the last.
Time blurred.
Eventually, the bats began to disperse. And in the distance, a faint glow pierced the darkness.
They followed the light.
What they found beyond it was a vast open plain—and they rushed toward it without hesitation.
As sunlight warmed their skin and a breeze kissed their faces, the grim tension they'd carried for so long finally began to ease.
When they turned back to look, they realized something astonishing: without even noticing, they had passed through the Misty Mountains.
….
In the depths of a shadowy forest, the mists swirled and formed a vague silhouette.
A pair of pale, bare feet stepped out.
A tall, breathtakingly beautiful woman emerged. Her icy-blue eyes stared across the mountains, toward the seven figures now far in the distance.
She raised her porcelain hand.
A bat fluttered down and gently placed a bloodstained scrap of cloth into her palm.
She inhaled lightly.
The blood in the fabric turned into a red mist, which she breathed in through her nose.
Her eyes drifted shut, her expression one of deep, lingering satisfaction.
Moments passed before she opened her eyes again.
Now, they glowed blood-red.
Her lips parted, and she spoke in an ethereal, confused voice:
"An existence unrecorded in the Music of the Ainur, one that shifts the fates of those around him…
O great Ilúvatar, is this your doing?
Or… is he your incarnation?"
….
West of the Misty Mountains
Brúinen River
By the riverbanks, Kaen and the others washed away the bloodstains on their bodies, deciding to rest for the day.
That night, they found a safe spot to set up camp.
The battle from earlier had left wounds on all of them—no one had escaped unscathed. They now looked slightly ragged and worn.
Ameliah prepared herbal medicine, handing it out to each member of the group. Then she walked over to Kaen.
"Kaen, let me dress your wounds. This ointment will speed up the healing."
"No need. I'm not injured."
Kaen shook his head. The moment he leveled up through the panel, all his wounds had already healed.
Ameliah's first reaction was disbelief. She thought he was just trying to act tough—after all, his clothes were torn in several places, blood still staining the fabric.
She was about to insist, but then she suddenly remembered the image of Kaen glowing like a divine warrior in the orc tunnels, slaying foes with unstoppable might.
Her words caught in her throat. She hesitated, then laughed softly.
"Lord Kaen, when you saved me from those orcs today… I had this strange feeling—as if you were a child chosen by the gods."
"…What?"
Kaen froze.
Before he could respond, a booming laugh came from Caden beside him.
"Hahaha! Did you hear that? Ameliah just said Lord Kaen is her fated one!"
"What?"
Mundar, who had been drinking, choked mid-sip and turned to look at Kaen and Ameliah.
"Ahem…"
Lairon, polishing his longsword, gave them a sidelong glance that was anything but subtle.
Zakri silently applied medicine to his arm, saying nothing—but his ears were very much on alert.
The usually poised and sharp-eyed Cathril looked at the two of them with a complicated expression, then suddenly spoke:
"Ameliah, I'm running low on salve. Do you have any left?"
"Ah—oh! Yes, I do!"
Realizing how her words might be misunderstood, Ameliah spun on her heels and hurried off.
Kaen could only scratch his nose awkwardly.
Still… Ameliah really was a kind and beautiful girl.
….
The Next Day
The group resumed their journey, heading westward along the Brúinen River.
If all went well, they would pass Rivendell in two days—and reach their destination, the Troll-woods, in five.
But as they marched on, Kaen—at the front of the line—suddenly raised a hand.
"Stop. Something's coming."
Since his panel had leveled up to 2, Kaen's physical senses had grown sharper—far beyond those of an ordinary man.
Through the howling wind across the plain, he had picked up the distinct rhythm of hooves against the earth.
Moments later, a mounted force appeared on the horizon, galloping swiftly toward them.
The others instantly assumed battle stances.
"No need to panic," Kaen said calmly. "Those are Elven riders from Rivendell. It seems we've entered the territory of the Hidden Valley."
At his words, everyone relaxed.
The Elves of Middle-earth were generally friendly toward Men. As long as no conflict occurred, they wouldn't attack without cause.
"Whoa!"
Ten Elven scouts reined in their steeds just before the group.
They were tall, strikingly handsome, clad in golden armor, astride fine Elven horses.
Each carried a longbow and sword, their sharp gazes scanning Kaen and his companions.
The lead Elf spoke:
"Strangers, you have entered Rivendell. State your identities and your purpose—or we will be forced to deny you passage and drive you away."
Kaen turned to Lairon. "You handle the talking."
"Yes, my lord."
Lairon nodded and stepped forward to speak with the Elves in their own tongue.
In Middle-earth, the Dúnedain—descendants of the Edain—had shared bonds of friendship with the Elves for over seven thousand years.
Lairon conversed with them fluently in Elvish. After a brief exchange, the tension in the Elves' eyes softened.
Returning to the group, Lairon said, "My lord, the Elves have granted us safe passage through Rivendell. They also invite us to rest there for the night. It is the final refuge east of the sea—a sanctuary for all Free Folk."
Kaen nodded and raised his voice toward the scouts:
"Thank you. We will not forget your kindness."
The lead Elf offered a courteous smile and gave a slight bow from atop his horse.
"It is only right. The Elves of Imladris are friends to all Free Peoples."