For one week, Razan trained.
His body had recovered from the wounds left by the Kazgar Wolves, and the worst of the pain had finally faded. The days had settled into a familiar rhythm, and Razan had begun to adapt to the life Zailthar had chosen for him.
Then, one morning, everything changed.
Razan had just finished preparing a simple breakfast when Zailthar appeared from between the trees.
"We need to move."
Razan looked up.
"Move?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Somewhere else."
Razan frowned.
"That's not exactly an answer."
Zailthar ignored the comment and continued gathering their belongings.
Razan sighed and stood.
"How far?"
"A long way."
"How long?"
About a month and a half.
Razan paused.
"A month and a half?"
Zailthar nodded.
"We're traveling on foot."
Razan stared at him.
"You're serious."
"Yes."
Razan looked around at the forest they had called home for weeks.
He had thought they would remain here longer.
But Zailthar had already made his decision.
Razan picked up his bag.
"Then let's go."
They left that morning.
The journey was long.
They traveled around the forest rather than through its center.
Razan noticed that Zailthar deliberately avoided certain areas of Dhulmir Forest.
Whenever Razan asked why, Zailthar gave him the same answer.
"Too dangerous."
At first, Razan thought he was simply being cautious.
But after several weeks of traveling, he began to understand.
Dhulmir Forest was far larger than he had imagined.
The part he had seen when he first entered it had been only a tiny fraction of the whole forest.
There were enormous trees that blocked the sky.
Rivers that stretched farther than Razan could see.
Rocky valleys.
Dense vegetation.
Ancient paths.
And creatures whose tracks alone were enough to convince Razan that he should never meet them.
One evening, while they were resting beside a stream, Razan finally asked the question that had been bothering him.
"Why are we going around the forest instead of crossing straight through?"
Zailthar looked at him.
"The center is dangerous."
"More dangerous than where we trained?"
"Much more."
Razan studied his face.
"You've been there?"
"Yes."
"What's there?"
Zailthar was silent for a moment.
Then he answered.
"Things you aren't ready to face."
Razan didn't ask again.
He had learned that when Zailthar spoke in that tone, pushing for more information was pointless.
They continued traveling.
Days became weeks.
The farther they moved, the more Razan realized just how enormous Dhulmir was.
At one point, they reached a high ridge where Razan could see a seemingly endless sea of trees stretching toward the horizon.
He stared in disbelief.
"This forest..."
Zailthar looked at him.
"Yes?"
"It's enormous."
"It is."
"If someone entered from the middle and walked straight across, how long would it take?"
"At least a month."
Razan turned toward him.
"At least?"
"Yes."
Razan looked back at the forest.
"Then people must avoid crossing it."
"They do."
"That's why there are roads around it?"
"Exactly."
Razan nodded slowly.
It finally made sense.
People didn't avoid Dhulmir because it was impossible to cross.
They avoided it because there was no reason to take such a risk.
A person could spend weeks traveling through dangerous territory when safer roads existed around the forest.
Zailthar had chosen the same approach.
The difference was that Razan would never have been able to make even this journey alone.
He didn't know the safe routes.
He didn't know which areas belonged to dangerous creatures.
He didn't know which paths were abandoned and which were still used.
Without Zailthar, the journey would have been impossible.
So Razan followed.
For a month, they walked.
Sometimes they spoke.
Sometimes they didn't.
And eventually, the endless forest began to thin.
The trees became less dense.
The paths became wider.
Human footprints began appearing in the dirt.
Then came wagon tracks.
Razan noticed them immediately.
"We're close."
Zailthar nodded.
A little farther ahead, the trees finally opened.
Razan stopped.
Beyond the forest stood a town surrounded by stone walls.
It wasn't as large as his hometown.
Not even close.
Yet it had something his old city had never possessed.
An atmosphere he couldn't explain.
Razan stared at it.
The town was busy.
Travelers moved through its gates.
Merchants pushed carts along the roads.
Armed men and women walked through the streets.
Some carried swords.
Others had bows, spears, or axes.
A group of hunters passed them carrying what appeared to be the remains of a large monster.
Razan watched them disappear through the gate.
"Is this the town?"
"Yes."
"What is it called?"
Zailthar looked toward the walls.
"Vareth."
Razan repeated the name.
"Vareth."
"It's known as the Adventurer City."
Razan looked at him.
"Adventurer City?"
"Many call the people who work here adventurers."
"And others?"
"Hunters."
Razan nodded.
That made sense.
The town was surrounded by wilderness, and the wilderness was filled with monsters.
People came here to hunt them.
They gathered materials.
They took contracts.
They protected travelers.
They earned money.
Vareth had been built around that life.
But there was something else.
As Razan approached the town, an unfamiliar feeling settled over him.
Something was wrong.
He couldn't explain it.
Nothing obvious had happened.
The streets were busy.
People were laughing.
Merchants were selling goods.
Yet beneath all of it was something quiet.
Something hidden.
Razan slowed.
Zailthar noticed.
"What is it?"
"I don't know."
Razan looked toward the town.
"It just feels strange."
Zailthar remained silent for a moment.
Then he said,
"You're not imagining it."
Razan looked at him.
"You feel it too?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"You'll find out."
Razan sighed.
"Of course."
They entered Vareth.
The town was even more active from inside.
Everywhere Razan looked, there were adventurers.
Some were young.
Some were old.
Some looked experienced enough to have survived countless battles.
Blacksmiths worked behind open doors.
Merchants sold weapons, armor, potions, and monster materials.
There were inns on nearly every major street.
And above many buildings hung the same symbol.
A sword and shield.
Razan looked around.
"This place really does belong to adventurers."
"That's why we're here."
Razan turned toward Zailthar.
"Why?"
"You need to register."
"As an adventurer?"
"Yes."
Razan frowned.
"Why do I need to?"
"Money."
Razan blinked.
"Money?"
"You need food."
Razan nodded.
"Obviously."
"You need clothes."
"Yes."
"Equipment."
"Yes."
"A place to sleep."
Razan sighed.
"I understand."
Zailthar continued walking.
"Strength is important, but money is also one of the most important things you need to survive."
Razan smiled faintly.
"I didn't expect that lesson from you."
"You'll learn."
They continued through the streets until they reached a large building.
A sign hung above the entrance.
Vareth Adventurers' Guild.
Razan looked at the building.
"This is it?"
"Yes."
Zailthar opened the door.
They entered.
The guild was crowded.
Tables filled the main hall.
Adventurers sat together, discussing quests and recent hunts.
Others stood around the large quest board.
Some were cleaning weapons.
Some were drinking.
Some were simply watching the people coming and going.
Razan followed Zailthar toward the reception desk.
The receptionist looked up.
Her eyes immediately widened.
She stood from her chair.
"Welcome, Lord Zailthar."
Her voice carried across the hall.
Several conversations stopped.
Heads turned.
Razan noticed it immediately.
One adventurer whispered,
"Lord Zailthar?"
Another responded,
"The Black Dragon Tyrant."
Someone else said,
"He's here?"
"Why?"
"Who's that boy with him?"
Razan glanced at Zailthar.
The man showed no reaction.
He simply approached the desk.
"Register this boy."
The receptionist immediately looked at Razan.
"Of course, Lord Zailthar."
Zailthar then asked,
"Where is the Guild Master?"
"He's in his office."
"Good."
Zailthar looked at Razan.
"Fill out the form."
Razan nodded.
Zailthar walked away toward the guild master's office.
The receptionist handed Razan a form.
"Here."
Razan took the pen.
He began filling it out.
Name.
Age.
Place of origin.
Weapon.
Combat experience.
Skills.
Razan reached the section asking about abilities.
He paused.
He didn't know what to write.
The receptionist noticed.
"Having trouble?"
"I don't know what to put here."
"Then leave it blank for now."
Razan nodded.
She watched him for a moment.
"Since you're a new adventurer, you should know something."
Razan looked up.
"You won't receive your proper rank immediately."
"Why?"
"You need to complete a trial quest first."
"A quest?"
"Yes."
"The guild evaluates new adventurers through a practical assignment."
"What do they evaluate?"
"Depends on the person."
She pointed toward the form.
"Strength. Magic. Weapon ability. Combat skills. Special abilities. Awareness. Survival skills. Things like that."
Razan nodded.
"And then?"
"Then the guild assigns you a rank suitable for your abilities."
Razan continued writing.
"What rank do rookies usually get?"
"The lowest."
"That's fine."
The receptionist smiled.
"You're not ambitious?"
"I'd rather earn a rank than pretend I'm stronger than I am."
She laughed softly.
"I like your answer."
Razan continued filling out the form.
Then the receptionist leaned closer.
"So..."
Razan looked at her.
"You're really his student?"
Razan glanced toward the hallway.
"Yes."
Her expression became curious.
"Lord Zailthar doesn't usually bring people here."
"I didn't know that."
"You probably don't know much about him."
Razan smiled.
"That's true."
Before she could say more, footsteps approached.
Zailthar returned.
The receptionist immediately straightened.
"Lord Zailthar."
Zailthar looked at Razan.
"Finished?"
"Almost."
"Good."
He placed a piece of paper on the desk.
Razan looked at it.
"What's that?"
"Your trial."
The receptionist glanced at the paper.
Her face changed immediately.
"Lord Zailthar..."
Zailthar looked at her.
She hesitated.
Razan noticed.
"What?"
Zailthar answered calmly.
"You'll investigate a series of disappearances."
Razan's expression became serious.
"Disappearances?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Six so far."
Razan frowned.
"Six people?"
"In two weeks."
The receptionist looked uncomfortable.
Razan looked between them.
"What happened to them?"
"No one knows."
"Any witnesses?"
"None."
"Any evidence?"
"Very little."
Razan picked up the paper.
"What is this case called?"
Zailthar answered.
"The Thirteen."
Razan looked at him.
"The Thirteen?"
"Every year, thirteen people disappear."
Razan's eyes narrowed.
"Every year?"
"Yes."
"Always thirteen?"
"Always."
"From this town?"
"No."
Zailthar shook his head.
"The disappearances occur in different towns."
Razan studied him.
"And nobody knows why?"
"Not yet."
"How long has this been happening?"
"Long enough that people stopped believing it was coincidence."
Razan looked at the receptionist.
She nodded.
"That's what we call it. The Thirteen."
Zailthar continued.
"The last time these disappearances happened in Vareth was ten years ago."
Razan looked around the guild.
The strange feeling he had experienced when entering the town suddenly seemed much more significant.
"So they returned."
"Yes."
Razan looked at the quest paper again.
"And the thirteen people..."
"Can be anyone."
"Men?"
"Men and women."
"Age?"
"Different."
"Occupation?"
"No fixed pattern."
Razan frowned.
"What clues do we have?"
Zailthar shook his head.
"Very few."
"Why?"
"Because anyone who investigates the disappearances too deeply has a chance of becoming a victim themselves."
The receptionist's expression tightened.
"That's why even experienced adventurers avoid this case."
She looked at Razan.
"And you're a rookie."
Razan remained silent.
She continued.
"Some seasoned adventurers won't touch it. They say it's too dangerous and too unpredictable."
Zailthar raised one hand.
The receptionist stopped talking.
He looked at Razan.
"This is your trial."
Razan looked at the quest notice.
Six people had already disappeared.
Thirteen vanished every year.
The cases occurred in different towns.
The last time Vareth had experienced them was ten years ago.
And nobody knew what happened to the missing.
It was certainly not a normal quest.
Razan looked at Zailthar.
"When did the latest disappearance happen?"
"Three days ago."
"Where?"
"The eastern market."
Razan nodded.
"How many people have disappeared in Vareth this year?"
"Six."
"Then I'll start there."
The receptionist looked at Zailthar.
"Lord Zailthar, are you really sending him alone?"
Zailthar didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at Razan.
"This is your trial."
Razan understood.
He wasn't going to receive help.
Not from Zailthar.
Not yet.
Razan folded the paper.
"All right."
Zailthar nodded.
"I'll be here."
Razan looked toward the receptionist.
"Thank you."
Then he turned and left the guild.
The eastern market was crowded when Razan arrived.
The sun was directly overhead.
It was around noon.
People filled the streets.
Merchants called out from their stalls.
Children moved between adults.
Carts rolled past.
Razan checked the location again.
This was where the last person had disappeared.
Yet there was nothing unusual.
No signs of a struggle.
No blood.
No damaged buildings.
Nothing.
Razan began asking questions.
He entered the first shop.
"Excuse me. Did you know the person who disappeared here?"
The shopkeeper shook his head.
"No."
"Did you see anything unusual that day?"
"No."
Razan thanked him and moved to the next shop.
The second shopkeeper had heard about the disappearance but knew nothing.
The third had seen someone standing nearby but couldn't remember who.
Razan continued.
Shop after shop.
Question after question.
Nothing.
No useful information.
No witness.
No clue.
Eventually, Razan stepped back into the street.
He looked around.
The market seemed completely normal.
He rubbed his forehead.
"This is going to be difficult."
He continued walking.
Then—
he felt it.
Someone was watching him.
Razan slowed.
He didn't turn around.
Zailthar's lessons immediately came to mind.
Don't react.
Observe.
He continued walking.
One step.
Two.
Three.
He passed a stall selling fruit.
Then a clothing shop.
He glanced at the glass window.
His reflection appeared.
Behind him...
A figure stood near the corner.
Razan kept walking.
He didn't look directly at the person.
His pace increased slightly.
The figure moved.
Razan turned onto another street.
The footsteps followed.
His heart began beating faster.
He turned again.
A narrower road.
Then another.
The noise of the market slowly faded.
Razan realized he had entered a quiet section of the town.
He stopped.
The footsteps stopped too.
Razan slowly turned around.
Nobody.
The street behind him was empty.
He waited.
Nothing.
Razan's hand moved toward his dagger.
He remembered the wolves.
He remembered the first time he had been surrounded.
He had survived because he had learned when to fight and when to run.
This felt different.
There was intelligence behind it.
Someone was following him.
Someone who didn't want to be seen.
Razan turned forward again.
The street ahead was narrow.
Buildings rose on both sides, leaving only a small strip of sunlight above.
He walked deeper into it.
Then he heard something.
A faint sound above him.
Razan looked up.
Nothing.
A moment later, a shadow moved across one of the rooftops.
Razan froze.
Someone was there.
He reached for his dagger.
The shadow stopped.
For a brief moment, Razan thought he saw a figure looking down at him.
Then it disappeared.
Razan took a step forward.
"Wait!"
No response.
He looked around.
The narrow street was empty.
But Razan didn't continue.
Instead, he moved toward the nearest building and slipped into the narrow space between two walls.
He pressed himself against the stone and waited.
The footsteps returned.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Whoever was following him believed Razan had continued down the street.
A figure appeared at the entrance.
The person looked around before stepping forward.
Razan waited until he passed.
Then he moved.
In one swift motion, Razan stepped out from behind him, grabbed his arm, and twisted it behind his back.
The stranger gasped.
Razan forced him against the wall and pressed his dagger beneath his chin.
"Don't move."
The stranger froze.
"I don't want to fight you."
"Then tell me who you are."
The stranger remained silent.
Razan pressed the dagger closer.
"Who are you, and why have you been following me?"
The stranger slowly raised his free hand.
"My name is Eren."
Razan narrowed his eyes.
"Why were you following me?"
"Because I know what you're investigating."
"The disappearances?"
Eren nodded.
"I saw you asking questions in the market."
"And that gives you the right to follow me?"
"No."
"Then why did you do it?"
Eren glanced toward the dagger.
"Because I saw something the night the last person disappeared."
Razan's expression changed.
"What did you see?"
"A figure."
"Where?"
"Near the eastern market."
"Describe it."
Eren hesitated.
"I couldn't see it clearly. It was standing in the dark."
"Then how do you know it was connected to the disappearance?"
"Because the person who vanished was speaking to it."
Razan's grip tightened.
"What happened next?"
"The lights in the market went out."
"All of them?"
"At the same time."
Eren swallowed.
"When they came back, the person was gone."
"And the figure?"
"I don't know."
Razan studied him.
"You didn't see what happened to it?"
"No. The darkness was too deep. By the time the lights returned, there was no one there."
"Why didn't you report this to the guild?"
"I did."
"And?"
"They didn't believe me."
"Why?"
"Because I was drunk that night."
Razan lowered the dagger slightly, but he didn't release him.
"Were you?"
"Yes."
"Then why should I believe you now?"
"Because I saw something else."
Eren reached slowly into his coat.
Razan immediately pressed him harder against the wall.
"Slowly."
Eren carefully pulled out a small piece of black cloth.
A symbol was stitched into it.
A circle.
Inside it were thirteen thin marks.
Razan stared at it.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was caught on a nail near the alley where the person disappeared."
"Why didn't you give it to the guild?"
"I tried."
Eren looked down.
"They told me it was meaningless."
Razan took the cloth from him.
His heartbeat quickened.
This wasn't something he had expected to find.
Someone had been watching him.
Someone had followed him.
But this time, the person wasn't trying to hide the truth.
They were trying to share it.
Razan lowered his dagger completely, though he kept his grip on Eren's arm.
"Why did you follow me instead of approaching me?"
Eren gave a bitter smile.
"Because people who ask too many questions about the disappearances tend to attract attention."
"Whose attention?"
"I don't know."
"Then what do you know?"
Eren looked directly at him.
"I know the disappearances aren't random."
Razan's eyes narrowed.
"And I know something is hunting them."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The narrow street fell silent around them.
Razan released Eren's arm but kept the dagger in his hand.
"You're coming with me."
"Where?"
"Somewhere we can talk."
Eren rubbed his shoulder.
"You don't trust me."
"No."
"Fair enough."
Razan looked at the black cloth again.
The disappearances had no clear pattern.
The victims came from different towns, lived different lives, and vanished at different times.
But the way they disappeared felt the same.
Something was waiting for them to become isolated.
Something patient.
Something that could approach without making a sound, strike without warning, and leave nothing behind.
Like a predator searching for prey.
His investigation had only just begun.
But now he had found someone who had survived an encounter with whatever was hunting them.
And whatever was responsible for the disappearances might already know that Razan was searching for it.