The hunter's moon loomed large in Erik's mind, a beacon of excitement for him. Would he see Lucy again under its red glow? A melancholic pang tugged at him as the cool coastal breeze whipped his hair. The journey itself wasn't unpleasant. Old World ruins, their jagged teeth jutting from the earth and swallowed by thick brush, offered a grim yet fascinating change of scenery. Finally, a colossal red oak announced the edge of the Endless Forest.

  Erik hauled himself onto a rocky outcrop, scanning the landscape like a hawk. He needed signs, a chaotic blemish on the natural order – a signature left by a rampaging beast. It took nearly two days of relentless searching before he stumbled upon a fresh set of tracks disappearing into the dense undergrowth of the forest. Technically Elven territory, these lands were open to hunters by an alliance agreement.

  Sunlight struggled to penetrate the thick canopy formed by towering oaks, maples, and pines. As Erik delved deeper, the signs of chaos grew more frequent. Chunks of trees lay ripped loose like playthings, freshly turned earth formed miniature craters, and then... blood. A crimson stain marred the forest floor, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Erik.

  He dropped his pack at the base of a massive maple, his movements honed by Adon's relentless training. With fluid motion, he unslung his gun, and shouldered the weapon, getting a reassuring feel to the short stalk he crafted, his fingers finding the familiar weight of the caster round he loaded into the chamber. Each step was a silent prayer, a stalk through a primordial cathedral. The blood trail intensified, a gruesome path leading him deeper into the woods.

  Then, a panic of shrieks pierced the silence. Erik flattened himself against a tree, heart hammering against his ribs. He peeked cautiously around the rough bark, his breath catching in his throat. There, across a small, gurgling creek, stood a monstrous chaos deer. Its hide, a grotesque tapestry of marbled red and black, twisted menacing antlers. It ripped into a deer with a ferocity that sent shivers down Erik's spine.

  The distance was too great for a guaranteed kill – over a hundred lengths separated them. Charging across the open ground bordering the creek was suicide. Erik's mind raced, a battle plan forming. Yet, amidst the churning chaos within, he subconsciously pushed the safety lever up, a strange calm settled over him – an intense, murderous focus. He'd never felt so steady, so utterly present in the moment.

  With the stealth of a shadow, he crossed the creek, his boots leaving no imprint on the soft earth. He closed in, the deer oblivious to the silent hunter drawing a bead on its pulsating heart. Finally, within striking distance, he raised his weapon and squeezed the trigger. The world erupted in a deafening roar, sulfurous smoke billowing from the gun's barrel, showering the deer in explosions, fire and ash.

  The chaos deer convulsed, a grotesque puppet show before collapsing in a heap of smoldering flesh. Erik chambered another round, his hands shaking only slightly. But as the smoke cleared, the intense focus evaporated as quickly as it arrived.

  With a shaky breath, he retrieved his new cleaver, its sharp bite a testament to Adon's generosity. He hefted the weapon, a grim smile curling his lips. "Wow, that's sharp," he muttered, the words a silent thank you to his mentor.

  He carved out the deer’s chaotic core, a pulsating red orb thrumming with dark energy. It felt right, natural in his hand. With a smile, he tossed it into his pack. First mission accomplished. Now, the long trek back to Three River City beckoned. As he turned towards the unfamiliar path, a lone wolf's mournful howl echoed through the forest, a lonely farewell to the chaos he'd just vanquished.

  The northern past was new to him. The road was straight enough for him to follow easily and to his right he could see the fringes of the Endless Forest giving him a small amount of comfort.

  The dying sun cast long shadows as Erik rounded a bend in the road, exhaustion gnawing at his bones. He was on the lookout for a sheltered spot to spend the night when a scene of chaos unfolded before him.

  A rickety wagon lay on its side, its contents spilling onto the dusty road. Two men, wiry and clad in threadbare clothes, argued animatedly. Their long hair, matted and greasy, looked like it hadn't seen a comb in weeks. "Blasted woolly!" the one by the broken wheel bellowed, his voice hoarse. "I told you we needed a cluck!"

  "Shut your trap," the other retorted, emerging from behind a clump of bushes where he'd been relieving himself. "Get this girl to the buyer and it won't matter."

  Crouched near the mangled wheel, a young girl hugged her knees, her eyes red-rimmed and downcast. Erik cleared his throat, making his presence known.

  The man fiddling with the broken wheel yelped, nearly falling over in his surprise. "Gods above, you scared the life out of me!"

  Erik raised an eyebrow, keeping a safe distance. "You folks alright?"

  The other man, fastening his trousers, swaggered over. "Yeah, all peachy. Just our woolly decided to play chariot with a particularly nasty pothole, busted a wheel in the process. We were headed for Guild City, hoping to be there within a few moons. Now look at us." He gestured at the broken wagon with a hint of pride in his voice, as if the misfortune was somehow a badge of honor.

  Intrigued, Erik approached them. "I'm heading to Three River City myself, it’s much closer. Maybe I can help. You never know, another wagon might come along..."

  The two men exchanged a wary glance, then the one with the missing teeth stepped forward. "You a hunter?" he asked, eyeing the outline of Erik's gun concealed beneath his cloak.

  Erik pulled back the cloak slightly, revealing the Red Wolf embroidered on his lapel. The trader's smile, punctuated by four gleaming black teeth, widened considerably. "Alright then, Mister Hunter. Perfect timing, wouldn't you say?"

  He turned towards the girl, his voice dripping with venom. "Get up, you little wretch! I told you to pay attention!" His open hand connected with the side of her head with a sickening crack. He stalked off, seemingly satisfied with his show of dominance. Erik kept his distance from them and remained on high alert through the night as he helped them create a makeshift camp

  The next day stretched before them, a relentless march along the northern road. The young girl endured a barrage of insults and random acts of cruelty. A kick here, a slap there, all punctuated by a string of foul language. As dusk settled, the men attempted to build a fire. Erik, using the distraction, sidled closer to the girl, concern gnawing at him.

  She was probably in her late teens, a few winters younger than him, but the lack of food had stunted her growth. Her exposed skin bore witness to the harsh journey – a canvas of small cuts, new and faded bruises, and a jagged scar that married her forehead. Her hair, recently hacked off in a haphazard manner, offered little protection from the elements. The stench of sweat, mud, and stale urine clung to her, and her chapped lips spoke volumes about their meager water rations.

  "Why are you being sold?" Erik's question hung heavy in the air, laced with a concern that made the girl flinch. He reached into his pack, a small pouch of salve glinting in the dying sunlight. Kneeling beside her, he offered it and gestured towards a shallow cut along her arm. Her eyes, the color of a stormy sky, flickered with suspicion for a moment before she hesitantly extended her arm. As Erik gently cleaned the wound, a low growl rumbled from behind him.

  The toothless man loomed, his face a mask of rage. "You know the rules, girl! No talking!" His voice, a gravelly rasp, scraped against Erik's ears. "And you, mister, keep your filthy paws off our property!"

  Erik snapped back at the two men, “how's that going to work out for you two if you deliver damaged goods? She’s starved, dehydrated, rot has taken hold in several of her wounds, and she stinks.”

  The two men had been huddled in hushed tones for a while now, their glances darting towards Erik's belongings with a predatory glint. Erik wasn't naive; he understood the unspoken threat – they were assessing him, calculating his worth as potential plunder.

  Ignoring the man's hostility, Erik unlaced his canteen and offered it to the girl. Her trembling hands grasped it like a lifeline, draining the water with a desperation that mirrored the parched earth beneath their feet.

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  The toothless man yelled out a pitiful battle cry. He charged, wielding a thick wooden club, with a mighty cleave like he was trying to split wood with mediocre force. Erik reacted on pure instinct, a sidestep just as the club whooshed through the air, shattering against the ground with a sickening crack.

  Before the man could recover, Erik tackled him, lifting him up momentarily then using his weight to drive the man hard into the dirt road. They grappled in a whirlwind of flailing limbs and grunts. The other trader joined the fray, raining down a flurry of wild punches. Adon's relentless training kicked in. Erik barely felt the blows glancing off his well-muscled arms. Erik grabbed and pinned one of the man's arms during the frenze of punches. The man, frustrated by his lack of impact, ducked his head in a desperate attempt to connect.

  This was it. The moment Adon had drilled into him – waiting for the opponent's mistake, then exploiting it. Erik seized the opportunity, twisting and locking the man's arm in a vice grip. With a powerful arch of his back, he leveraged his entire weight, forcing the arm upwards. A sickening crack echoed through the clearing as the bone gave way.

  The man screamed, his face contorted in a mask of agony. But before Erik could react further, the toothless one tackled him from behind, landing several wild blows on Erik's ribs. The pain was a dull ache, easily absorbed by his strong frame. But a different kind of awareness bloomed within him – a chilling calmness devoid of fear or rage.

  He remembered a maneuver Adon had taught him. With a powerful twist and drop he pulled himself from the man's grasp. Like a spring he jumped up to the man’s head and looped his arm under his head. He used the pinned arm as leverage, slamming the attacker's neck into his armpit. He secured the man's head with his strong arms, then wrapped his legs around the smaller frame. In a single, fluid motion, Erik arched his back, squeezing the windpipe shut.

  The attacker struggled for a few moments, his limbs flailing uselessly before going limp, then falling to the dirt. Erik held him for a beat longer, the silence thick with tension, before releasing him and kicking him off.

  The toothless man, now whimpering in fear, scrambled backwards as Erik approached. With a cold efficiency that surprised even him, Erik slammed his heel into the man's jaw. A sickening crunch confirmed a broken jaw, the man's remaining teeth spraying out like rotten seeds. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

  Erik stood there, adrenaline slowly pumping through his veins. He had just had his first life or death fight, yet the world seemed strangely muted. It wasn't a sense of satisfaction, but a horrifying realization – the training, the violence, it had become a part of him. The thought of running away never crossed his mind, and the fight hadn't triggered any uncontrollable rage. What bothered him most was the chilling indifference that had settled over him. He had brutally beat two men, and it felt...almost normal.

  Erik took a fortifying breath before approaching the girl huddled in a ball, wracked with silent sobs. Her entire body trembled, as fragile as a scared bird. He crouched down a safe distance away, his voice gentle as he asked, "Why were those men taking you?"

  Her bloodshot eyes, rimmed with red, flicked towards the unconscious figures on the ground. Tears welled up anew, spilling over in a torrent down her dirt-streaked cheeks. "It was my father's debt," she stammered, voice choked with emotion. "They said if they didn't take me, they'd..." Her voice trailed off, replaced by a shuddering breath.

  Erik instinctively reached out a hand, intending to offer a comforting touch. But as his fingers neared, she flinched away, a fresh wave of fear washing over her. He quickly withdrew his hand, his heart clenching at her reaction.

  "I won't hurt you," he said softly. "Can you tell me what your father owed?"

  Sniffling back tears, the girl wiped at her runny nose with a grimy sleeve. "After Mama died," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "Papa started drinking real bad. We couldn't afford the rent anymore. So, he... he stole from the church." Shame flickered in her eyes, a stark contrast to the raw fear that had been etched there moments before.

  "They said I had to be sold to the church to pay back what he took. They were going to take my little brother too, but he was real sick." A fresh wave of tears erupted, her small frame wracked with sobs.

  "They burned our house down!" she wailed, burying her face in her hands. "With Papa and Toby inside!"

  Fury surged through Erik, a hot coal igniting in his gut. He clenched his fists, his jaw working silently. But seeing the girl's abject terror, he forced it down, shoving the anger deep inside.

  "You're not property," he said firmly, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions. "no person has the right to buy or sell you to the church."

  He sat beside her, offering silent comfort until her sobs subsided into hiccups. When she finally calmed, he asked gently, "What's your name?"

  She peeked at him through tear-filled eyes, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "Alice," she mumbled.

  "I'm Erik, Alice," he said, offering a small smile. "I'm heading to Three River City. If you come with me, I promise I'll keep you safe."

  A flicker of hope ignited in her eyes. She nodded, a small, hesitant movement.

  Together, they rose. Erik helped her to her feet, then turned his attention to the unconscious men. With practiced efficiency, he bound their wrists together, tying them back to back.

  As the toothless man stirred, Erik knelt beside him, his voice a cold rasp. "Don't even think about talking. Your arm's broken, your skull's cracked, your jaw's probably shattered, and any teeth you had left are decoration for the road now. Your friend might be dead, might not be. I'm leaving you here for fate to deliver the remaining punishment. If I ever see your sorry hide again, even by accident, this," he brandished the black cleaver, the glint of the metal ominous in the fading light gliding it up and down his inner thigh to his groin, "will be the least of your worries. You'll be peeing sitting down for the rest of your miserable life, awake and in pain. Nod if you understand."

  The toothless man whimpered, his eyes widening in terror as he frantically bobbed his head. Erik raided what remained for the supplies and covered Alice in a small fur throw. Without another word, he turned and walked away, Alice following close behind, leaving the two men groaning on the side of the coastal road.

  The cluck ranch offered a welcome respite after days on the dusty road. Erik negotiated with the weathered rancher, finally settling on a handful of bits for Alice to spend the night in a proper bed. Relief washed over her face as she saw the clean sheets and soft pillows, a stark contrast to the hard ground she'd grown accustomed to.

  The rancher, a man with a sun-baked face and a gruff voice, ushered them inside. A steaming pot bubbled over the fire, promising a hearty meal. Erik stripped off his dusty clothes, relishing the feel of cool water washing away the grime of the journey. He emerged to find steaming bowls of stew filled with tender deer meat and chunky vegetables waiting on a rough-hewn table.

  After they ate, Erik cleaned and dressed Alice's wounds. Her body was a map of scrapes and bruises, each one a testament to the hardships she'd endured. He worked in silence, a frown creasing his brow with every new injury he uncovered.

  Just as they were about to leave, a wagon pulled up, kicking up a cloud of dust. Leif’s fiery red hair and a booming laugh climbed down from the driver's seat. Momo squawked indignantly beside her.

  "Hold on there, slowpoke!" Leif boomed, her voice laced with amusement. "Walking? Didn't Adon teach you anything about using guild resources?"

  Before Erik could explain, Leif's gaze fell on Alice. "What's this? Picking up strays?"

  Alice reached out to pet Momo’s neck plumage.

  "Hands off, little one!" Leif barked, startling Alice. "Unless you want to lose a finger."

  Erik ushered Alice towards the wagon. "She's coming with me to Three River City. The church was going to sell her to pay off her father's debt." He pulls Leif in close, "They killed her father and brother, and were going to sell her to settle the debt

  Leif's lips thinned. "Those damned zealots," she muttered. With a flick of the reins, she urged Momo into motion. "Alright, get in. We've got a city to reach."

  As they rode, Leif turned to Alice. "What's your name, girl? And do you know how to read and write?"

  Alice, still bewildered by the sudden turn of events, stammered, "I'm Alice, and yes, I can read and write."

  A glint of amusement sparked in Leif's eyes. "Perfect. This will be fun, and a real thorn in the Colonel's side." She turned to Erik, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "We're making Alice the General's aid."

  Erik raised an eyebrow. "The General's aid?"

  "He needs help with paperwork, the outpost is becoming more than those two can handle and need another person to handle the day-to-day paperwork," Leif explained. "Besides, wouldn't it be a hoot to have a fresh face dealing with that pompous blowhard?"

  Leif, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. "She's perfect for the job. Can read, write, and won't faint at the sight of a bit of paperwork."

  The General considered this for a moment, then nodded in agreement. He offered Erik a few silver bars to cover Alice's needs.

  The following days were a whirlwind for Alice. Nervous but determined, she was measured for new clothes, a stark contrast to the ragged ones she'd worn. The sight of her bruised body made her self-conscious, but Erik, ever patient, reassured her that the city healer would take care of everything. Thankfully, a checkup revealed no serious injuries, just the lingering aches and pains of her ordeal.

  Erik, meanwhile, was commended for his actions in the field. The General, through a local landlord, secured a small room for Alice, a place she could finally call her own.

  Overwhelmed with gratitude, Alice thanked everyone who had helped her. As the city lights twinkled outside her window, a flicker of hope ignited within her. Tomorrow, she would begin her new life as the receptionist for the Red Wolves, a far cry from the life she had narrowly escaped.

  Erik settled into a worn booth at the Pup, a mug of ale sweating condensation in his hand. Sleep eluded him. The events with the slavers played on repeat in his mind, a grim loop highlighting every punch, every sickening crack.

  He didn't want to be like Leif, so cold, so dismissive of ending human life. Yet, a chilling logic gnawed at him. Had he hesitated, the outcome could have been dire – him dead, Alice sold into a life worse than death.

  The most unsettling part, however, was the ease with which violence had flowed through him. He knew maneuvers, submissions that could have subdued the men without permanent harm. But in the heat of the moment, those options vanished, replaced by a primal surge of aggression.

  With each tankard of ale, his thoughts spun further into a dark labyrinth. The warmth of the alcohol offered a fleeting comfort, but the questions festered, unanswered. Finally, a heavy stupor settled over him, and he slumped unconscious in the booth, the weight of his actions a heavy burden on his sleep-deprived mind.