The night was heavy with tension. The forest, heavy with silver moonlight, hushed with the sound of leaves rustling as a growl low and rough moved through the air. The Midnight Howler Ape, a horrific creature covered in heavy dark fur, stood in the center of the clearing. It towered almost ten feet tall, its heavy shoulders flexing as it exposed razor-sharp fangs, its scarlet eyes burning with primal fury.
In front of it, a solitary young man in a black cloak stood, silver sword shining in the faint light. His hood covered most of his face, but his stance was steady, unyielding—utterly unperturbed by the fearful creature standing before him.
A howl of wind blew through the trees. The creature beat its chest with its great fists, rattling the ground they stood on. Then, with a hacking growl, it charged forward.
Young Warrior didn't budge.
The ape's gigantic fist descended—a blow strong enough to crush boulders. But just as it was about to land—
Young Warrior disappeared.
With a flash of movement, he dodged at the last instant, the impact of the beast's blow blasting the earth upon which he had stood.
"Slow."
A flash of silver.
Young Warrior's voice was little more than a whisper as he entered, his sword slicing a lethal curve through the air.
"Void Edge—First Strike."
A swift, precise cut ripped across the ape's huge chest, a gaping wound opening from shoulder to ribs. The creature howled, stumbling back, its warm blood spattering onto the forest floor.
Young Warrior breathed out, readjusting his hold. His hands shook a little.
"My body is still not strong enough to execute more than three strikes."
The Midnight Howler Ape snarled with rage; its breath ragged. Then its muscles inflated in unnatural fashion, veins shimmering a dull red. It wasn't going to back off. Rather, it charged.
With frightening velocity for its bulk, the monster bridged the space, its great arms waving wildly. Every blow had the strength to shatter bones.
Young Warrior dodged and weaved past the assaults; his body motions fluid. He dodged below a crashing fist, dodging by mere millimeters the hurricane of wind from it. He sidled around another—one moment too soon; the ape merely spun around its heel and shoved its elbow against his shoulder.
CRACK!
Shock radiated from Young Warrior left shoulder as he recoiled backward, his boots scouring gulleys into the earth. His arm pulsed with agony, but his face was grim.
The monster sneered—an animal-like grin of victory.
Young Warrior merely took a deep breath, though. "Not bad."
Blood seeped from his lips as he repositioned himself. He had two more hits left before his body collapsed.
"Void Edge—Second Strike."
Young Warrior closed in rapidly with a flash of speed. His sword glinted as it sliced diagonally—cutting through the ape's right arm.
A deafening shriek ripped through the forest as the monster recoiled, holding its severed arm.
Its rage had reached a breaking point.
"GRAAAAAAHHH!"
Giving up all defense, the Midnight Howler Ape attacked him, mouth agape, fangs bared—determined to rip him into pieces.
Young Warrior drew breath, raising his sword.
"Void Edge—Third Strike."
In one smooth motion—his sword flashed.
A silver arc glowed under the moonlight.
Everything came to a standstill for one moment.
Then—
SCHLICK!
A pristine, crimson line etched its way along the center of the ape's massive chest. Its glowing red eyes faded, and its gargantuan form went stiff mid-fling.
And then, as if chopped down by a axe, the monster split along its clean half lines, toppling onto the forest floor in a sickening crunch.
Thick, black blood spread before Orion's feet. The odor of iron perfumed the air with the night wind's icy breeze.
Silence.
The forest—once echoing with the battle roars—had descended into a deathly silence.
Orion swished the blood from his sword in one motion, breathed out, readjusting the hood on his robe. In doing so, a couple of strands of his bluish-white hair fell loose, gleaming in the moonlight. His intense blue eyes—angular and refined—examined the body before him. "Too long," he grumbled. Indeed the young warrior is none other then – Orion Vale.
His left shoulder hurt painfully, the strength of the ape's punch leaving it dislocated. With a harsh grunt, he twisted it back into place with a sickening pop.
Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out an Emerald Vitality Pill—a small, emerald green pill filled with life energy. Popping it into his mouth, he closed his eyes.
Within seconds, a gentle emerald glow pulsed over his skin, and his wounds started to heal.
A cool feeling coursed through his body.
"Not bad at this level," he whispered, extending his fingers as the ache disappeared. "But I require more of these."
He raised his head, his blue eyes gazing toward the moon. A weary sigh escaped his mouth.
"I still have a long way to go."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Orion padded silently through the forest's outskirts, his footsteps quiet on the gentle ground. Before long, the high walls of Valeric City appeared, and when he entered city he could see that Valeric City pulsed with vitality, even in the middle of the night.
Magical lamps stood along the streets, bathing the night market in a golden light. Vendors shouted their goods, their voices merging into a harmonious cacophony. The scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and hot bread filled the air.
Orion strode through the packed streets, the hood low over his eyes, disappearing into the shadows.
"No matter how many times I witness it, the night market is always the best," he thought.
He was deep in thought when—
BUMP.
His shoulder bumped into another hooded figure.
The black-robed man turned a little, his face obscured by his hood. He looked at Orion for a moment before bowing and continuing on his way.
Orion's eyes narrowed. Something about the man didn't feel right.
Then, his eyes dropped.
A small sealed letter was on the ground at his feet. He believes perhaps this letter from that person who bumped some time back to him. Kneeling down, Orion picked it up. His fingers touched the golden lion emblem closing it.
His face grew dark.
"The Lion Seal…? That is the mark of Viscount Lionheart's family. Why would a letter from them be here?"
Gently, he opened the seal and spread out the parchment. His keen eyes read the contents—
"Night is falling, time to have dinner."
Orion's breath froze.
This… was a coded message.
In his previous life, his father as emperor had employed similar cryptic messages to give commands to loyal lieutenants. They were crafted so that if letter by accident intercepted, would appear as nonsensical. But to insiders, the significance was obvious.
A feeling of unease snaked in his chest.
"What is Viscount Lionheart intending?" he muttered.
He thought of hunting down the robed man, but then he hesitated. A moment later, and he shook his head. Better to see first, Orion's face hardened. He must exercise caution.
He continued his stroll, blurring through the city like a specter.
Some walk The Vale Mansion entered his line of sight and the mansion was under tight guard, but Orion knew its vulnerabilities.
Slipping away from the guards, he climbed the outside walls with easy practiced skill, fading into darkness.
Inside, he shed his garb for humble night clothes, his body still buzzing with weariness.
"My strength is growing, but my battles still take too long to get back on track."
His thoughts went back over the battle—the weaknesses of his shape, the inefficacies of his blows.
Releasing a slow breath, he stretched out on his bed. In seconds, sleep claimed him.
And as night darkened, the closed letter stayed hidden in his robes—its secrets unrevealed.
--------
The hooded figure, meanwhile, stood before a darkened tavern.
He stepped inside, the air heavy with the smell of smoke and beer. Men and women sat and laughed and drank, their words merging into a murmur.
Behind the bar, a bartender with a welcoming smile invited him in. "What will you have to order, sir?"
The voice of the hooded figure was harsh. "A drink enjoyed by lions."
The smile on the bartender's face did not fade, but a slight change coursed through his face. He cleaned the bar slowly before he said, "Sir, I'll take you somewhere where that drink is enjoyed best. Just follow me."
The hooded figure nodded and trailed behind.
The bartender escorted him to a quiet area of the tavern, where he leaned against the wall. There was a soft click, and a secret staircase appeared.
"Sir, I hope you have a good drink," the bartender replied with a slight bow.
The hooded figure went down the staircase into a dimly lit secret room. The air was thick with anticipation, the soft light of magical lamps creating an otherworldly shadow.
At the center of the room, a man sat calmly, sipping tea. His presence radiated authority.
The hooded man bowed. "Sir, my lord sent a letter."
He reached into his robe—only to find nothing.
His expression turned dark.
The letter…
He remembered bumping into someone a while back.
"Damn it. Did I drop it?"
His hesitation was noticable at once.
The man sitting down placed his tea on the table. His soothing voice held a touch of menace. "What happened, Walton?"
The hooded man—Walton—hesitated before answering. "Sir… the letter might have been lost."
A piercing stare pierced him. "You idiot. That was a signal letter you don't treat with care."
Walton bowed low. "I beg your pardon, sir, but… it was in code. If discovered, no one will know what it says."
The man sat back, drumming his fingers on the table. Then, his golden eyes sparkled with something sinister.
"So, what was the message?"
Walton gulped hard. "My lord's command… Time is near. Deliver a great blow to Valeric City."
A smile spread across the man's face.
"Good. Then let us start."