Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Archer's Day (13)

  Orin slowly opened his eyes as a pale ray of light slipped through the nearby window. His body ached, stiff and sore, and the cold seeped into his bones. He had spent the night on the sofa, wrapped in nothing but a thin blanket that had done little to keep the chill away.

  He stretched carefully, muscles protesting, then let his gaze drift to the table where he and little Nina had eaten the night before.

  The memory came rushing back.

  The girl’s sudden change in behavior. Her vacant eyes. And the question that still sent a shiver down his spine.

  Who are Rick and Loki?

  The conversation hadn’t gone anywhere. The moment she had spoken those names, she had collapsed. Orin hadn’t even had time to ask how she knew them. He had carried her to the bed, then resigned himself to the sofa for the night.

  He frowned.

  He still couldn’t understand how Nina could have known those names. He was aware she hadn’t been herself at the time, but even so… it didn’t sit right.

  Maybe she’ll be better this morning, he thought.

  With that faint hope, Orin stood and headed toward the bedroom.

  The house felt wrong.

  Too quiet.

  When he reached the doorway, his unease turned into something sharper.

  The bed was empty.

  “Nina…?” he murmured.

  He stepped inside and went straight to the window, peering outside—but dust clouded the glass, blurring everything beyond it.

  “Don’t tell me she went looking for her parents…” he muttered under his breath.

  With no answers there, Orin turned and left the room.

  In the kitchen, something immediately caught his attention. The fireplace still glowed faintly, embers warm, as if it had been used not long ago. And on the table—

  A piece of paper.

  Orin picked it up.

  “It must be from Nina,” he said quietly, unfolding it.

  But what greeted him wasn’t proper writing. The page was filled with uneven, shaky scribbles, letters half-formed and crooked. It took him a moment to make sense of it.

  …going somewhere…

  …food… pot…

  That was enough.

  His expression tightened as he glanced at the fireplace, then lifted the lid of the pot resting nearby. Inside was a thick soup, much like the one from the night before, still warm.

  She’d prepared food.

  That meant she hadn’t left in a hurry.

  “I really hope you didn’t go looking for them,” Orin muttered.

  He ate in silence, forcing himself to stay calm, then waited.

  Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then more.

  Nina never came back.

  Trying not to let his thoughts spiral, Orin grabbed his gear and stepped outside. Cold air greeted him, heavy clouds stretching across the sky like a dull, unbroken ceiling.

  He searched the surrounding area, moving through the forest, scanning for footprints, broken branches—anything.

  There was nothing.

  No sign she’d passed through at all.

  In the end, he stopped and let out a slow breath.

  “…I can’t stay here forever.”

  He turned his gaze toward the distant mountains, barely visible between the trees.

  “If I keep a good pace, I should reach the foothills before nightfall,” he said quietly. “Once I get to Dhamarr… I’ll come back for her.”

  It wasn’t a promise he liked making—but it was the only one he could.

  With renewed resolve, Orin headed toward the mountains, pushing through thick undergrowth. As the cabin faded behind him, he couldn’t help but glance back.

  There were no paths.

  No trails.

  The house was hidden unnaturally well—an oasis swallowed by forest.

  “How did Nina even find this place by herself…?” he muttered. “And how did I end up here? I shouldn’t have fallen anywhere near this forest.”

  The questions lingered as he drew the short sword Nina had given him, using it to cut through tangled branches. With no trail to follow, he moved by instinct alone.

  The deeper he went, the darker it became.

  Towering trees swallowed the light, and the forest floor grew eerily still. The greatest threat here wasn’t the terrain—it was the magical beasts that roamed these woods.

  A distant noise echoed between the trunks.

  Orin slowed.

  Then he saw it.

  Not far ahead, a large figure stood motionless among the trees.

  It wasn’t human.

  It was far too big.

  The shadows obscured its shape, but its sheer mass set every instinct in Orin’s body on edge.

  He tightened his grip on the sword and moved carefully, placing each step with deliberate care. Using the trees as cover, he shifted from trunk to trunk until he could see it more clearly.

  Long ears.

  Thick brown fur.

  Its back turned toward him.

  “…A bear?” he whispered.

  The size of it made his stomach knot. Taking something like that down with a short sword would be reckless.

  And yet—

  Curiosity crept in.

  Just a little closer…

  He advanced slowly.

  The beast didn’t react.

  Didn’t breathe.

  Didn’t stir.

  That was when Orin understood.

  His eyes widened slightly.

  “…It’s not asleep.”

  The creature was dead.

  Orin approached the beast’s corpse.

  Up close, its size was overwhelming. Thick fur matted with blood, muscles like coiled ropes—and across its chest, a massive bite wound, torn open as if something had clamped down and refused to let go. Blood still seeped from it.

  “…It’s fresh,” Orin muttered.

  A chill ran down his spine. Whatever had done this had to be enormous.

  “I need to get out of here. Now.”

  The moment the words left his mouth, the forest answered.

  Leaves rustled. Branches snapped. The sound crawled through the trees, circling him—too close, too deliberate.

  Orin stiffened, sword raised.

  The noise wasn’t coming from a single direction. It echoed from several points at once, as if something massive was moving around him, just out of sight.

  “…More than one?” he whispered.

  His eyes flicked back to the corpse.

  “No… that wound wasn’t made by several beasts.”

  He stepped backward, using the dead creature as partial cover—

  And something moved.

  From the corner of his eye, a long, thick shape burst from the trees, greenish scales flashing as it lashed out at him like a whip.

  Orin barely managed to throw himself aside.

  But what struck the ground wasn’t a whip.

  It was a tail—hundreds of times thicker than one.

  The impact shook the earth. At its tip, a massive rattle erupted into violent vibration.

  The sound tore through Orin’s senses.

  His vision blurred. His balance vanished. The world seemed to twist beneath his feet.

  “Gh—what…?!” He clutched at his ears, but it was useless. The vibration pierced straight into his skull, rattling his thoughts apart.

  His guard dropped for just an instant.

  The tail came again.

  This time, there was no escape.

  The blow slammed into his chest, hurling him through the air. His body crashed hard against the trunk of a massive tree, knocking the breath from his lungs.

  Pain exploded through his back.

  When he slid down, gasping, he realized his sword was gone.

  He was unarmed.

  The tail withdrew, vanishing into the forest as if it had never been there.

  Orin sucked in a ragged breath—then froze.

  That wasn’t just a tail.

  From between the trees, an enormous head emerged.

  A serpent.

  No—a monster.

  Its length stretched far beyond what his eyes could track, coiled through the forest like a living wall. Yellow eyes fixed on him, unblinking.

  “It’s… one,” Orin whispered hoarsely. “Just one…?”

  The head advanced, gliding between trees as if the forest itself bent out of its way.

  “Damn it—my sword!”

  Forcing his aching body to move, Orin scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward where he’d been thrown.

  There.

  The sword lay half-buried in leaves.

  He lunged—

  A jet of violet liquid burst from the serpent’s open jaws.

  It splashed over the blade.

  The metal hissed, warped—and dissolved before his eyes, crumbling into dust.

  “…Acid?” Orin breathed.

  The serpent’s fangs gleamed as it closed its mouth, watching him.

  There was no choice left.

  Orin turned and ran.

  He didn’t dare look back, but he could feel it—its presence pressing in, hunting him.

  He burst through brush and trees when the rattle sounded again.

  His steps faltered.

  The world tilted.

  His sense of direction vanished, the forest twisting into a maze.

  “…It’s herding me,” he realized. “It’s playing with me.”

  Magical beasts here weren’t like ordinary ones. Orin knew that well—cunning, intelligent, wielding powers beyond reason.

  Now he understood that knowledge firsthand.

  “I have to get off the ground,” he gasped. “A tree—any tree—”

  He tried to run, but staggered, slamming into trunks and branches as the disorientation worsened.

  Then—

  The tail struck again.

  A brutal blow to his side sent him flying. This time, he slammed face-first into a tree.

  White-hot pain tore through his left arm.

  Blood streamed down his face.

  He pushed himself up, shaking, driven by nothing but the instinct to survive.

  The rattle was gone.

  The forest had fallen silent.

  Too silent.

  He couldn’t hear the serpent moving.

  That frightened him more than the sound ever had.

  “…What do I do?” he whispered.

  His left arm throbbed violently as he tried to move it.

  “I can climb… maybe. Even if I can’t use it after.”

  He pressed his back against the tree, breathing hard, listening.

  Nothing.

  “I could try another tree,” he thought desperately. “But I don’t even know which way I ran…”

  He clenched his teeth.

  “No. I don’t have time. I climb. Now.”

  Steeling himself, Orin stepped back from the trunk and looked up—

  And his body locked in place.

  Above him, coiled among thick branches, hung the serpent’s massive head.

  Yellow eyes stared straight down at him.

  Waiting.

  Orin collapsed onto the forest floor in sheer terror.

  The creature was there—watching him.

  For how long, he didn’t know. Seconds, maybe minutes. It hadn’t attacked. It had simply observed him, unmoving, as if savoring the moment.

  There was no doubt about it now.

  That beast was playing with him.

  Even knowing that, Orin forced himself to his feet and ran, sprinting away from the tree in the opposite direction. He had no weapon. No way to fight back.

  Running was all he had left.

  The forest blurred as he pushed forward—until movement rustled in a nearby bush.

  Then came the rattle.

  “…Not again,” he groaned.

  His head spun violently. The world twisted, direction slipping away as he crashed into tree trunks and thorny brush. Branches tore at his skin, drawing blood across his face, arms, and legs.

  Pain piled on pain.

  “No matter what… I have to find a tree,” he gasped. “Something I can climb…”

  The rattle stopped.

  Orin’s breath caught.

  Here it comes.

  The tail burst from the bushes like an arrow, snapping toward him with lethal speed—but this time, he reacted.

  He threw himself aside.

  Or at least, he tried to.

  His body didn’t respond the way he expected. His thoughts were sluggish, his movements misaligned. Still, the strike only clipped his hip, sending him stumbling rather than flying.

  The tail smashed into the ground, losing momentum.

  An opening.

  Orin’s eyes widened—

  Then the bell began to jingle again.

  “…Not this time,” he muttered, his voice shaking as exhaustion and disorientation threatened to pull him under.

  “ACTIVATE HUNTER SKILL: Speed Up 20%.”

  Power surged through him.

  Even through the haze clouding his mind, he felt it—energy flooding his limbs, sharpening his movements.

  Before the tail could rise again, Orin shot forward like an arrow.

  At first, he could barely control himself. He nearly slammed headlong into a tree, clipping branches at high speed, each impact threatening to send him tumbling. Leaves and bark whipped past his face as he fought to stay upright.

  Gradually, the fog in his head began to lift.

  His balance returned.

  His senses followed.

  But he still had no idea where he was running.

  “I just need height,” he thought desperately. “If I can see the mountains…”

  He ran until his body screamed in protest. Every step sent pain through his battered frame, his left arm throbbing with every movement.

  Finally, he staggered to a stop.

  “…I think this is it,” he whispered, staring up at a tall, sturdy tree. “I hope I lost it…”

  He didn’t hesitate.

  Gathering what little strength he had left, Orin leapt and grabbed the trunk, climbing with grim determination. His injured arm burned with every pull, but he refused to stop.

  By the time he reached the upper branches, his breath came in ragged gasps.

  From there, he could see them—the mountains, distant but clear.

  He hadn’t gone far.

  But he hadn’t gone nearly far enough.

  “…No way I’ll make it before night,” he muttered.

  The branch beneath him was thick enough to hold his weight. He sat down heavily and let out a long breath, resting his head against the trunk.

  “I’ll stay here… just for a bit.”

  Only a few minutes passed.

  Then—

  BOOM.

  The tree shook violently.

  Orin snapped upright as a deep vibration rippled through the trunk, as if something massive had slammed into it with overwhelming force.

  Heart pounding, he looked down.

  And froze.

  The serpent was there—its full length now visible as it reared up, coiling around the trunk with terrifying ease. Its sheer size was overwhelming; even at this height, it could reach him without effort.

  And its yellow eyes—

  They were different now.

  Gone was the playful curiosity.

  This time, it was hunting.

  Despair tightened around Orin’s chest.

  “I’m… trapped,” he whispered.

  He scanned desperately for another tree, another branch, anything he could jump to—but there was nothing. No path. No escape.

  Unless…

  “…The void?”

  The thought struck him like lightning.

  He’d fallen once before. From a cliff. And survived.

  Could he do it again?

  It was madness.

  But there was no other choice.

  With the serpent closing in, Orin gathered momentum and leapt.

  He aimed for the trees below, hoping—praying—he could catch a branch, break the fall.

  But mid-air, his blood turned cold.

  The serpent had already uncoiled, half its body launching forward to intercept him.

  Its jaws opened wide.

  Two massive fangs lunged straight toward him, perfectly timed.

  “I won’t make it…” Orin thought.

  He closed his eyes.

  Maybe I should’ve stayed at Nina’s cabin one more day…

  Then—

  Pressure crushed in from all sides.

  His body felt as if it were being pulled inward, space itself folding around him. His thoughts scattered, consciousness slipping away.

  The next thing he knew—

  He hit the ground.

  Hard.

  Orin groaned and forced his eyes open, confusion flooding him.

  He hadn’t been bitten.

  He hadn’t crashed through branches.

  Instead, he lay on soft soil, the familiar scent of earth and fruit filling the air.

  “…What?”

  He pushed himself up—

  And stared.

  He wasn’t in the forest canopy.

  He wasn’t in the serpent’s jaws.

  He was lying in the orchard outside Nina’s cabin.

  For several long seconds, he didn’t move, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.

  Then—

  A horn sounded in the distance.

  Sharp. Militaristic.

  The unmistakable call of the Church of Luminia.

  Orin’s blood ran cold.