Beastbound: Awakening the Hunter

"Twenty-three bandits—all strong, burly men. With this much flesh and blood, they should attract the wraiths without fail."

André examined the state of the captured bandits, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“What about you all? Any injuries? Can you keep fighting?” he asked, turning to his companions.

“Don’t worry, a bunch of petty bandits isn’t enough to hurt us,” Hector replied with a slight smirk.

The other extraordinary individuals nodded in agreement. Their targets had been small-time bandit hideouts, none of which housed leaders with supernatural prowess. The missions had gone off without a hitch.

“We need to act now,” Violanda interjected, her tone resolute.

She reluctantly handed the arcane staff back to Oliver, her expression tinged with longing. As the foster daughter of an Arcanus professor, even she had no such treasure of her own. Only her adoptive father possessed an arcane weapon of this caliber.

With their plan decided, the group dragged the bandits along as they headed for the hilltop cemetery.

The cemetery was no arbitrary choice. It was where Griffin, one of their seniors, had mysteriously fallen to the wraiths. It was also the first location where the townsfolk reported sightings of Kramar, the malevolent spirits plaguing the region. If the wraiths had a lair, this cemetery was likely its nearest approach.

The party soon reached their destination.

Under the shroud of night, the cemetery looked even more menacing than Oliver remembered. Vines climbed every inch of its crumbling walls, and the old caretaker had long vanished. The cold wind rustled the trees, casting claw-like shadows across the gravestones, creating an atmosphere steeped in dread.

The bandits, however, were the most terrified of all. Realizing that these knights and mages intended to use them as bait for the wraiths, they trembled uncontrollably.

“Afraid now, are you? Where was that fear when you slaughtered innocent villagers and plundered passing merchants?” Hector sneered, shoving one of the bandits forward with a kick and the tip of his iron sword.

One by one, the bandits were forced into the center of the cemetery, trembling like leaves in a storm. Yet, despite their presence, nothing stirred in the shadows.

“Something’s missing…” André muttered, furrowing his brow.

Without hesitation, he drew his longsword and severed a bandit’s arm in a single, brutal stroke.

Blood sprayed across the ground, its metallic scent thick in the air. The bandit’s screams echoed through the cemetery, amplifying its eerie atmosphere.

And then, a cold wind swept through the graveyard, and the trees swayed violently.

In Oliver’s mind, a system notification chimed:

[A host of wraiths is running rampant. They are detested by the Forest of Purple Mist. Eliminate them to earn the forest’s favor.]

[Forest’s Favor: The higher your favor, the greater affinity you will have with the forest’s native plants. Traversing the forest will become easier, and you will be exceptionally fortunate.]

So that’s what the Forest’s Favor does? Oliver’s thoughts raced.

Affinity with plants could be an incredible asset. The deeper one ventured into the forest, the denser the vegetation became. If the plants themselves offered their assistance, it could make navigating or surviving there far easier.

Fortune was another matter entirely. Luck was a priceless resource, one that could tip the scales in any dangerous encounter.

Oliver’s thoughts were interrupted by Hector’s sharp command.“Everyone, stay sharp. They’re coming!”

The silver moonlight illuminated a shadow tinged with an ominous red hue. A massive figure emerged from behind the trees, its hulking silhouette like a moving mountain.

Oliver’s breath hitched. This wraith was at least twice the size of the one he’d encountered in the tavern. Its sheer presence chilled the air, sapping the courage of the bandits, who shook so violently their teeth chattered.

And it wasn’t alone.

From the darkness of the forest, more wraiths appeared. One after another, until a full ten had gathered, their spectral forms creating a forest of their own—a forest of terror.

The oppressive aura they exuded made every nerve in Oliver’s body scream with tension. With only five extraordinary individuals among them, plus himself, they were hopelessly outnumbered.

“Fy-ra-Vyr-en!” Hector roared, raising his staff high.

A brilliant sword of light materialized and descended with blinding speed, piercing through a wraith’s head.

Light magic! Hector’s expertise was rare, and its devastating effect on the wraiths was immediate. No wonder he had been chosen as a core apprentice. In another era, a talent like his would have been elevated to the rank of a Holy Priest in the Church of Light.

The remaining wraiths shrieked in fury and surged toward the group, abandoning any hesitation.

Battle erupted.

André, wielding a greatsword, charged headlong into the fray, engaging three wraiths at once. The red-haired shield knight followed suit, standing firm as the group’s impenetrable wall.

Violanda, Hector, and Oliver, positioned in the rear, unleashed a barrage of spells, their magic striking with precision.

Oliver wielded his staff in one hand and a steel sword in the other, attacking relentlessly from behind the shield knight. With a final thrust of his blazing, holy-infused blade, he pierced the chest of a wraith.

The monster let out a guttural howl as the light within Oliver’s sword dimmed. He poured more mana into the weapon, causing it to erupt in a burst of radiant energy.

The wraith collapsed in a heap, its form dissipating into the night.

[Forest’s Favor +1]