The forest had become quiet in the wrong way.
Etzel had never realized there were different kinds of silence until the last two days.
There was ordinary silence. Morning silence. The comfortable kind between breaths of wind and birdsong.
Then there was the silence that came after something died.
And now there was this. The silence of things that had already left.
Etzel stood beside DK and stared into the deeper forest. Behind them lay the dead Hooktail Grazer. Ahead, five sets of tracks crossed the damp earth. Different sizes. Different species, probably. All moving in the same direction.
Away.
Etzel tightened his grip on the hatchet. “What could make five different creatures run together?”
DK crouched again. “They weren’t together.”
“That’s somehow less comforting.”
DK touched one print. “They passed through this area at different times.”
“How different?”
“I don’t know.”
Etzel looked at him. DK looked back.
“Right. Amnesia.”
“I was going to say I lack enough information.”
“Mine was shorter.”
DK stood. Etzel’s ribs protested when he straightened. That reminded him of another important fact.
He was injured. His mother had told him to rest.
He ignored it.
They followed the trail—not deep, but far enough to confirm the pattern. Every hundred meters, more tracks appeared. Always heading outward. Never inward.
Then they found the first body.
Not a monster. A deer. Its neck broken cleanly. No feeding marks. No struggle. Just… stopped.
Etzel crouched. “That wasn’t natural.”
DK examined the ground nearby. “No drag marks. It died here.”
“Killed for no reason.”
“Or as a message.”
Etzel looked up. The trees ahead grew denser. The light dimmed. He felt it again—the pressure behind his eyes. Not pain. Not fear. Something older. Something watching.
He shook his head. “We’re not going in.”
DK didn’t argue. “Good.”
They turned back.
Halfway to the outer perimeter, they heard voices.
Not panicked. Not shouting. Just… talking. Too loudly for the forest.
Etzel signaled DK with a hand gesture—stop. They moved off-trail, circling toward the sound.
Three figures stood near a marked forestry checkpoint. Two men in official vests. One woman holding a tablet. Hunters. Low-Rank, but armed.
One of them tapped the tablet. “Still nothing from Sector Seven.”
“Same here,” the woman said. “But we’ve had three civilian reports of abnormal creature movement in the last hour.”
The third man frowned. “That’s not normal for a Level One zone.”
“No,” the woman agreed. “It’s like something’s pushing them out.”
Etzel exchanged a glance with DK. They know.
He stepped forward slowly, hands visible. “You might want to expand your perimeter.”
All three turned instantly. Weapons half-raised.
Etzel stopped. “We just redirected a stampede ten minutes ago. Nine creatures. Different species. All heading this way.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”
“Etzel Deymar. Level Two Hunter.” He gestured to DK. “And my summon.”
The man with the tablet blinked. “Level Two? You handled nine creatures alone?”
“No,” Etzel said. “We didn’t kill them. We redirected them.”
Silence.
Then the woman lowered her weapon slightly. “Explain.”
Etzel did. He described the tracks. The wounds. The unnatural coordination. The deer. The silence.
When he finished, the woman looked at her colleagues. “This matches the anomaly reports from yesterday.”
The lead man nodded slowly. “If this is true, we need to escalate.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“It’s true,” DK said, voice calm but firm.
The officials studied him—the silver armor, the shield, the sword that hadn’t left its sheath once. A-Rank presence radiated from him even in stillness.
The woman made a decision. “Can you help us secure the southern access point? It’s the most vulnerable.”
Etzel hesitated. This wasn’t training anymore. This was real duty. Real risk.
DK spoke before he could answer. “Yes.”
Etzel sighed. “Of course you did.”
The southern access point was a narrow trail flanked by steep slopes and dense underbrush—a perfect funnel.
Etzel surveyed it. “If anything comes through here, it’ll bottleneck.”
“Exactly,” the woman said. “Our job is to keep civilians out and monsters moving away.”
“No killing unless necessary,” Etzel added.
She nodded. “Agreed. Panic is the real enemy.”
For the next two hours, nothing happened.
Then—movement.
A low growl echoed from the north. Then another. Branches snapped. Leaves rustled.
Etzel’s heart rate steadied. Not fear. Focus.
Three creatures emerged from the tree line. A scaled scavenger. A small feline predator. And behind them—a Ridgeback Mauler, limping but furious.
The officials tensed.
Etzel raised a hand. “Wait.”
He watched their eyes. Their posture. Their gait.
“They’re not hunting,” he said quietly. “They’re fleeing.”
As if on cue, the Ridgeback let out a terrified roar—not at them, but past them, into the forest beyond.
DK stepped forward. Not aggressively. Deliberately. He planted his shield in the center of the path.
The effect was immediate.
The scavenger veered left. The feline darted right. The Ridgeback hesitated—then followed the feline, crashing through thorns rather than face the silver wall.
Silence returned.
The woman exhaled. “That… worked.”
Etzel flexed his fingers. “It’s geometry, not combat.”
She looked at him. “You’re not just Level Two, are you?”
Etzel smiled faintly. “I’m exactly Level Two. Just not useless.”
Later, as the sun dipped below the treeline, the officials offered them transport back to the city.
Etzel declined. “We’ll walk.”
They left with supplies, a formal incident report, and—most importantly—a confirmed threat classification: Anomalous Herding Behavior – Origin Unknown.
Back on the trail, DK finally spoke. “You didn’t tell them about the deer.”
“No,” Etzel said. “Because that part wasn’t about herding.”
“It was about control.”
“Or testing.” Etzel glanced at the darkening woods. “Something out there isn’t just scaring monsters. It’s observing how they react.”
DK’s hand rested on his sword. “Then it has seen us too.”
Etzel nodded. “And it knows we’re watching back.”
He summoned his interface.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ NAME: Etzel Deymar │
│ LEVEL: 2 │
│ ABILITY: Limited Necromancer │
│ RANK: F │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
No change. No Rank Growth. Just Level.
He closed it. “Level doesn’t make me ready,” he said softly. “It just means I survived long enough to try again.”
DK walked beside him, silent but present.
And somewhere in the deep forest, the silence waited—not for prey, but for patterns to break.