The butchering was nearly done.
For days, the volcanic basin echoed with the dull rhythm of hammers, chisels, and the hiss of cooling vapor. Now, the air was quiet — eerily so. No monsters wandered near the carcass of the fallen wyvern. The ground itself seemed to recognize the silence of its new ruler's grave.
Villagers moved methodically, no longer panicked. They loaded crates of cooled shell and molten ore with practiced rhythm, their fear replaced by purpose. Where the Vulcarion Basal once raged, now stood calm and order — a fitting testament to the Eternal Wanderers' victory.
Hunnt stood overlooking the ridge, wind carrying the faint scent of ash across his shoulders. Below, Alder and Seren oversaw the final loading. Kael leaned lazily against a boulder, watching the workers while flipping a knife between his fingers.
Hunnt walked up beside him, the sunset reflecting in his eyes.
"Kael."
Kael tilted his head without looking up. "You've got that look again — the one right before you hand me more work."
Hunnt folded his arms. "Korvan Village. I want it to be the first branch."
Kael blinked, lowering the knife. "First branch?"
Hunnt nodded once. "Of the Eternal Wanderer."
Kael's brows rose. "And the main branch?"
"Ravenshire."
Kael froze. His smirk faded for a heartbeat. "...Your home."
Hunnt's gaze drifted toward the far eastern mountains. "It started there. It should remain the heart."
For a long moment, Kael said nothing. Then he smiled faintly. "Your parents would've been proud, Hunnt. Not for the fighting, but for this."
Hunnt gave a quiet nod, expression unreadable. "Maybe."
Kael straightened, brushing soot from his coat. "So, Korvan becomes the first branch. Makes sense — strong leadership, independent village, no Guild interference."
"Exactly," Hunnt said. "And Maerin… she understands the Path better than anyone I've met. She's lived it."
Kael chuckled. "Stubborn, fierce, and hates authority — you're right, she's perfect."
Hunnt smirked faintly. "Then convince her."
Kael tilted his head, voice dripping sarcasm. "Oh? Using my legendary charm again?"
"Your punishment for surviving," Hunnt said, turning toward the village.
Kael called after him with a grin, "Yes, Founder."
Hunnt waved a hand. "That's an order."
---
That evening, Kael sat across from Maerin in the forge-lit longhouse. The chief leaned on her cane, her weathered face illuminated by the fire's glow.
"You're asking me to what?" she said flatly, though a trace of curiosity glinted in her tone.
Kael met her eyes. "Join us. The Eternal Wanderer."
Maerin snorted softly. "Join a legend? I'm too old for hero tales, Kael."
"This isn't legend," Kael replied calmly. "It's legacy. The same fight you've been waging your whole life — just given a name."
She raised an eyebrow. "A name?"
Kael leaned forward slightly. "We are the hunters who move unseen. The ones who act when the Guild hesitates. We fight for those who can't fight for themselves. No coin. No rank. No recognition. Just the will to protect."
Maerin frowned. "You sound like you're recruiting ghosts."
Kael smiled. "Exactly. We call ourselves Drifters. The Eternal Wanderers. We don't belong to the Guild or any kingdom. We follow the creed."
Kael reached into his coat and set a small insignia on the table — a black emblem etched with a triangle and a clenched fist. The Eternal Mark glimmered faintly in the forge light.
"This," Kael said, his voice steady, "is the symbol of the Path. Each Drifter carries one — hidden, never displayed in public. To outsiders, it's just a decoration, a trinket. But to us… it's proof of belonging. A reminder of our oath."
Maerin studied it, turning the small emblem in her calloused fingers. The black metal was simple, yet somehow alive — a quiet weight that seemed to hum beneath her touch.
Her brow furrowed. "If it looks like a decoration… what's stopping others from copying it?"
Kael's lips curved faintly. "That's the beauty of it. The mark's meaning isn't in the shape — it's in the words."
He leaned forward, eyes glinting in the firelight. "When one Drifter meets another and doubts, one will say: 'The path has no end.'"
He paused.
"And the other will answer: 'The hunt has no master.'"
Maerin repeated it softly, the words heavy with quiet strength. "The path has no end… the hunt has no master."
Kael nodded. "That's our way. It's more than a code — it's the truth of what we are. The world will keep moving, the monsters will keep coming, but we'll never bow to the Guild or anyone else."
Maerin's gaze lingered on the insignia again, her expression softening. "It's simple. But unbreakable."
Kael smiled. "Just like us."
He paused, then recited softly:
"I walk the path unseen.
I fight not for glory, nor for gold, but for those who cannot fight for themselves.
I stand with the Eternal Wanderer — silent, steadfast, unbroken.
The world is wide, the hunt endless, yet my resolve knows no master.
In shadow I move, in light I protect.
I am a Drifter."
The words hung heavy in the forge. Even the flames seemed to quiet.
Maerin stared at the insignia, her fingers brushing its edges. "You really believe in this."
Kael nodded. "Hunnt does more than anyone. He's the founder, though he hides it. To the world, he's just another hunter. To us, he's the one who gave us purpose."
Her brow lifted slightly. "That boy?"
Kael chuckled. "Don't tell him I told you."
Maerin smiled faintly, shaking her head. "And you want me as what — another fighter?"
"No," Kael said. "As a guide. A hidden Elder. You wouldn't need to leave Korvan. You'd stay here — watch over the next generation. If you find someone with the heart of a Drifter, put them through the Three Trials."
She looked intrigued now. "Trials?"
Kael nodded. "The first: proving loyalty and selflessness — helping others without reward. The second: fighting not for glory, but for protection. And the third: the willingness to die for the sake of others."
Maerin's eyes flickered with the reflection of the fire. "You expect me to test children with death?"
Kael smiled softly. "No. Just to see if their hearts already burn for others. The Path finds its own."
Maerin exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "You're good at this, you know."
Kael shrugged. "Comes with the territory. And Hunnt's right — you're what the Wanderers need. The next ones will come here, seeking guidance. They'll find you."
Maerin gazed at the mark again, thumb tracing its edge. "I told myself I was done leading. Done guiding."
"And yet," Kael said quietly, "you never stopped."
The silence lingered until Maerin finally sighed. "Fine. I'll do it. But I'll stay hidden. No banners, no titles."
Kael grinned. "Done. Hidden Elder of the Eternal Wanderer — Maerin of Korvan."
Maerin rolled her eyes. "At least make them work the forge when they visit. Every Drifter should learn to build something, not just break it."
Kael tipped his hat, smiling. "Consider it doctrine."
They clasped hands — the veteran chief and the wandering elder, firelight binding their pact.
When Kael stepped out into the cool night air, Hunnt was waiting outside, arms crossed.
"Well?" Hunnt asked.
Kael smirked. "She's in. Under one condition — every member must swing a hammer before they swing a weapon."
Hunnt chuckled. "Sounds like her."
Kael nodded toward the horizon where the volcano smoldered faintly in the distance. "Korvan's in good hands, Founder."
Hunnt's gaze lingered on the stars. "No. In good hearts."