The sky stretched wide and cloudless over the Elmwald plains, a vast sea of green and gold swaying softly beneath the morning sun. The breeze carried the sharp scent of damp grass and distant apple orchards, crisp and alive.
Arven moved steadily across the rolling hills, Skele trotting silently beside him. The soft clatter of bone paws against the earth was the only sound besides the whispering wind.
"This has to be Elmwald territory," he murmured, eyes narrowing toward a distant spire barely visible beyond a gentle rise.
His mind pieced together the layout of the estate grounds and landmarks—just as he remembered from the game.
The Elmwald estate stood proudly at the center of its domain—one of the four founding noble houses that shaped the region. Ancient orchards stretched around the manor, flanked by scattered woods and ruined structures to the south.
If he was right, the family manor should be just beyond that ridge.
They crested the rise, and Arven paused to survey the familiar terrain.
Then a voice drifted on the wind.
"Arven…!"
He froze.
The voice came again, louder this time—
"Young Master!! Where have you been?!"
From the next slope, an old man came sprinting, moving with surprising speed for his age. His formal black coat billowed behind him, and a jagged scar cut across his left eye.
Alban.
Recognition clicked as the man came to a panting halt a few paces away.
"Young Master," Alban said, shifting from panic to stern reprimand. "You've been gone since dawn. The entire estate was on alert."
Arven blinked. "Sorry. I was just… mapping the area. Clearing my head."
Alban's frown deepened. "There's been a mist. It came suddenly and blanketed the territory—even the plains. Scouts could barely see a few meters ahead. We feared the worst."
A mist? That was unheard of in Elmwald territory.
Arven's thoughts raced, but he masked it with a calm smile.
"I'm fine. Skele was with me the whole time."
Alban's eyes flicked to the skeleton dog, whose tail wagged with a soft clatter of bones. The butler's gaze narrowed.
"A familiar," Arven explained. "I awakened yesterday. Skele came with it."
Alban studied him for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. "Understood, young master."
Alban wasn't just a loyal servant in the game.
Arven recalled a buried side quest—during the Monster Horde invasion arc, players visiting the noble houses had found Alban to be more than a butler. A retired adventurer, he was the rare NPC able to bypass the boss's absurd resistances with technique alone.
Most had assumed he was just a butler—until he pulled out a halberd and cleaved a magic beast in two.
This world kept unfolding layers.
"Besides," Arven muttered. "He looks way too deadly to be just a butler."
"What was that, young master?" Alban raised an eyebrow.
Arven winced. "I mean… you're very reliable."
Alban sighed, then motioned for him to follow.
"Come. Let's return to the manor. Your parents will want to see you safe."
* * *
As they crossed the orchard fields, the morning sun rose higher, casting golden rays over the land. Dew shimmered on the rows of apple trees, and birdsong filled the air.
Arven relaxed slightly as they neared the inner grounds of the Elmwald estate.
So this really is my home now.
He glanced toward the marble-pillared mansion rising ahead, the Elmwald spire cutting a proud silhouette against the hills.
He strolled along the cobblestone path winding through the orchard, hands clasped behind his head. Skele padded beside him, tail twitching in short, stiff wags.
He didn't remember much about the nobility system in the game. Playable characters always started in cities or outskirts—not in manors with private butlers.
Yet the memories of this version of Arven—the original Arven—had begun blending with his own.
He knew which rooms had squeaky floorboards.
He remembered the names of every servant.
And most of all, he remembered his history with them.
As they neared the manor, a sudden chill swept through the orchard.
Arven stopped.
A thick mist was creeping over the land.
"What the…" He narrowed his eyes.
This wasn't normal.
He'd played through the forest region dozens of times in Runebound Online. Mist like this only appeared during rare events—monster spawns, cursed item triggers, or debuff zones.
Alban's voice grew tense. "Young master, stay close."
The fog thickened fast. Visibility dropped to just a few meters.
Skele growled low and primal, ears flat against his skull. He darted forward, sniffed the air, then circled back—tense and alert.
"Something's off," Arven muttered.
Suddenly, the mist swirled tighter. A gust of cold wind howled, forcing Arven to shield his face.
Alban grabbed his arm. "Don't move."
"Skele, stay with me!" Arven shouted. The fog closed in.
The world tilted.
The mist curled like fingers around his limbs—
—and swallowed him whole.
* * *
They wandered for a while through the shifting haze. The mist swallowed sound and distorted distance. Trees blurred into shadowy shapes. Mud sucked at their boots with every step.
Skele circled Arven, nudging his leg like a silent guide. Low growls rumbled from his throat, warning of unseen dangers lurking just beyond sight.
Yeah. I don't like this either.
There'd never been a mist event near Elmwald before.
Could this be one of the world's new deviations?
Alban said nothing. He stayed close, posture rigid and watchful.
After what felt like an hour, the fog finally began to thin. Tree trunks sharpened into focus. Sunlight spilled through the canopy once more.
Arven let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"This phenomenon's been happening more frequently," Alban said quietly. "Without warning. We're still trying to understand it."
But something had changed.
Skele's bones glowed faintly with blue runes. His hollow eyes burned brighter, more focused. His stance was different now—more upright, alert, almost… alive.
A glowing message appeared before Arven's eyes:
[Companion Evolution Complete]
[Name: Skele (Void Hound)]
[New Passive Skill: • Ethereal Sense – Detects hidden threats in low-visibility environments.]
[New Shared Skill: • Mist Sense – Establishes a partial sensory link with the Tamer. While within Skele's mist, the Tamer gains a faint awareness of movement through the fog.]
[New Active Skill: • Mist – Unleashes a creeping mist touched by the Void. Obscures vision, dulls sound, and distorts perception within the affected area.]
[Affinity – 10/20]
Arven blinked. Surprised with the notification, while Skele wag its tail proudly.
Maybe this was fate.
Arven said nothing more as they finally reached the white stone columns of the Elmwald manor's orchard gate.
* * *
Back inside the manor, after a warm bath and fresh clothes, Arven settled into his room and pulled up the system menu.
His level hadn't changed. But Skele had—evolving, unlocking new abilities.
As he scanned the details, something caught his eye: a faint glow linking some of Skele's skills to his own interface.
Shared Skill?
It clicked.
This was the hidden quirk of the Monster Tamer class. He could share certain skills with his bonded creatures.
By the fireplace, Skele lay curled beside the flames, his bony tail twitching like a watchful, sleepy guardian.
Arven smiles.
In the game, monsters had been just numbers—EXP sources, loot bags.
But here?
They weren't just numbers anymore. Not just experience points or loot drops.
They were alive. They had feelings. More than lines of code.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Velward Elmwald summoned Arven to his study.
The room was quiet, filled with the scent of old books and polished wood. Velward stood by the window, gazing out across the orchard as sunlight poured through the glass. Broad-shouldered and gray-eyed, he carried the air of quiet command—but there was a softness in his expression as he turned to face his son.
"Welcome back, my son." Velward's voice was calm but carried a quiet relief. He stepped forward, the faintest softness lingering in his eyes as he regarded Arven.
Arven blinked, surprised by the note of warmth.
Velward stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"There's a family dinner tonight. Take your time getting ready—your mother's been looking forward to seeing you."
He glanced toward Alban. "Prepare something fitting for him."
"Yes, my lord," Alban said with a small bow and a knowing smile.
Velward looked back at Arven, his gaze steady but gentle.
"After dinner… I'll be making an announcement. Something I think you're ready to hear."
* * *
That night, during dinner, Arven told his parents everything. Well—almost everything.
"I… don't really know how to explain it," Arven said, scratching his head. "But yesterday something changed. I woke up, and there he was—bone, shadow, glowing blue eyes."
He shrugged with a crooked grin. "Looks like I've got a skeleton dog now."
"Being able to bond with monsters like that is truly special," Eleanor said, her eyes lighting up with pride.
Graceful and composed, Arven's mother carried the quiet strength of House Lysienne—known for its merchant guilds and silver fleets—and it showed in her sharp instincts.
In Arven's blended memories, she had always been the one teaching him how the world worked—not with swords, but with subtlety. She once explained how a bundle of herbs could buy silence, and how favors traded well were worth more than gold.
From noble etiquette to bartering, Eleanor taught him that power came not just from strength—but from knowing what to offer, and when.
She reached over and touched his hand.
"You may wander, Arven—but never forget you're the heir of Elmwald," she said gently. "Wherever you go, always plan three steps ahead. That's how we survive."
Velward stroked his beard, watching Arven with quiet thoughtfulness.
"You're ready," he said slowly. "The world is calling you now. So go. Explore it to your heart's content."
Arven had rehearsed how to bring up his plans to leave—how to convince them.
But his father had beaten him to it.
He felt warmth rise in his chest and let out a small chuckle.
"I'll follow your wish, my lord," he joked.
Velward laughed. Eleanor smiled.
Moments later, she returned with a small velvet box. Inside was a navy-blue pendant shaped like a shield, engraved with the Elmwald crest.
She placed it in his hand and closed his fingers around it. "Have a safe journey."
* * *
That night, Arven slipped quietly from the manor and climbed the familiar slope just beyond the garden wall.
Above the orchard hills, the trees thinned, revealing the vast night sky.
Beneath the stars, he stood alone, silent.
He exhaled slowly, the cool air filling his lungs.
For the first time, he truly felt this world was his.