Startled

Noah was plagued by nightmares all night.

At first, he was a helpless stray dog, hunted by masked pursuers, then wandering through mountain passes as boulders tumbled down around him. Later, he found himself as a goat, then a stag, corralled and watching peers slaughtered. At the dream's end, he found strength, ready to bare teeth in revenge, only to awaken abruptly.

He woke to the early dawn, clouds unfurling against a pale golden sun, its light fractured by trunks and leaves into scattered pools of brightness and deep, unnerving shadows.

The entire aspen tree had been hollowed by fire, its smoke rising high, visible from afar. Yet still, no other hunters had come. Perhaps they'd already reached Camp Stone, Noah thought, gathered there to regroup and strategize once more for the hunt of Blade demon.

Camp Stone was an ancient military relic at the heart of the Twilight Forest. The Romans had built defenses near a massive rock to fend off attacks from the old empire, aided by dragon riders. Legend said that the trees surrounding Camp Stone were scorched by dragon's breath, leaving the land barren to this day.

The hunters had agreed to split up for four days, compressing Blade demon's range of movement, then reconvene at Camp Stone for phase two of the operation.

But had their plan succeeded? Noah couldn't help but doubt. They had lost Denver and Mr. Julius, leaving only an unstable element like Oliver and a novice like him.

"We're heading to Camp Stone," Logan announced, his body stiff as stone from the night's immobility.

Noah packed up camp, Oliver gorged on salted beef, then they all drank water heartily before setting off again into the forest. The land lay on the northeastern border of the Roman Kingdom, a silent, sparsely populated expanse. Beyond the forest to the east lay the ruins of an ancient, dark empire, a land even more dreaded than Roman, a forbidden place where not even demon hunters would venture, and rarely spoken of for fear of its horrific curses.

Should Blade demon escape into those forbidden lands, it would be like a fish returning to the sea, free of any restraint.

Leaves and brush swayed suspiciously with the wind, and distant animal calls sounded eerily like demons mocking.

Everything could be an embodiment of Blade demon, a chilling thought for Noah.

In essence, demons arose from human fear, but fear was an innate part of life, impossible to conceal or evade. Noah could only strive to discern reality from delusion, vigilant of everything around him.

Logan seemed unfazed, while Oliver, already more frightening than any demon, was unconcerned.

Oliver occasionally strayed from the group to find water, and despite Noah's concern for his safety, he would always return, arrogant and domineering, making Noah regret his needless worry.

The trees began to thin.

They stumbled across a desolate, grassy slope where a demon hunter sat, basked in sunlight beyond the forest's shadow.

"Dalton!" Oliver called out. "What are you daydreaming about?"

The seated hunter turned his weary eyes towards them.

Dalton, around thirty with troubled emerald eyes, auburn hair, thin lips, and a beard from chin to lip, looked strangely childlike in his fear.

"You seem lost," Logan said. "What's wrong, Dalton?"

Noah knew Dalton as a slow, local hunter chasing trivial demons for meager rewards. With no real experience against true demons, Noah feared becoming like Dalton, unable to even fulfill the basic duties of a hunter.

"Terrifying," Dalton murmured. "The visions... the blades..."

"Did you see Blade demon? Where?" Logan pressed.

"Everywhere, hiding in the forest, watching me," Dalton's lips trembled. "Waiting for me to slip up, then they'll swarm and kill me... I should stay here... I should stay..."

Noah scanned the open slope. If it was fear of the dark, this was a fine place, but what was the point?

"Let's go. We're off to Camp Stone," Logan urged. "Don't disgrace yourself in front of the apprentice."

Dalton's gaze shifted to Noah, his pride pricked.

"It's dangerous," he stood, his chest only covered by a leather robe, no armor. "Too dangerous... let's not go to Camp Stone."

"Then where? Home?" Logan raised his voice.

"Home... yes! We should go back," Dalton stammered. "We can't confront Blade demon. It's the actual incarnation of a true demonic deity... How could we possibly stand a chance?"

"Face reality. Every hunter from Upper Roman has come together, not one fleeing. Julius and Denver gave their lives for duty. Fulfill yours," Logan's tone grew stern.

"I..." Dalton nodded reluctantly. "...then I'll go with you; let's hurry."

They trekked through the forest once more.

Dalton was paranoid, fearing every rustle and stir.

Noah wondered if he was losing his mind. Madness was an occupational hazard for those who often dealt with demons, nearly inescapable.

What was the root of this fear? Was it because they couldn't defeat something, or because they didn't understand it?

If something truly warranted fear, unique in nature, beyond defeat or understanding, should humanity concede and declare failure? Noah pondered deeply.

"Sighs..." Dalton exhaled endlessly.

"Fool," Oliver scoffed.

"Shut up, possessed scum!" Dalton suddenly turned, lashing out at Oliver.

The group halted as Oliver narrowed his eyes.

"Struck a nerve? From the day I joined, I saw you're not like other hunters—cruel, brash, wanting everything. Your nature's corrupted," Dalton accused haltingly. "You're thought-infected by demons."

"Madman," Oliver dismissed the argument.

"I'll tell everyone when we reach Camp Stone," Dalton insisted, Oliver's expression clouding over.

Was their unity crumbling without Blade demon's intervention? Noah mused. But what had driven Dalton to such agitation? Had he truly witnessed Blade demon's true form?

Just beholding the demon-forged blade had overwhelmed Noah, forcing him to summon Aether Flame to remain lucid. For hunters without protective charms, a direct encounter with Blade demon's true form...

Yet, if faced head-on, how could Dalton have walked away unscathed? Even a seasoned hunter like Julius, along with his assistant Denver, had been easily slain, strung up in the trees.

Or was Dalton already slain by Blade demon, and now merely a walking illusion?

With Dalton's constant murmuring, Noah's thoughts ran rampant. He found Dalton more aggravating than Oliver, who, though greedy and threatening on several occasions, at least possessed a strong will.

After the quarrel, they reached Camp Stone Ruins by afternoon.

Rumors were false; a verdant forest had grown around Camp Stone, untouched by dragon fire. The legendary stone stood tall, a massive, egg-shaped monolith, casting an ominous shadow, its moss-covered side facing away from the sun.

Carved on the stone was a line of script, visible from afar, as if etched by giant claws—sharp, precise, alien to human language.

Around Camp Stone rose two circles of high stone walls for defense, and crude towers built of piled stones. The ancient Romans had used these fortifications against invaders, each stone showing signs of weathering, as if once melted by intense heat and naturally cooled over time, adding to the ruins' battered appearance.

Atop one of the stone towers, a female demon hunter watched, signaling to the approaching group.

"Logan! Noah!" she called out. "Oliver! Dalton! You've finally arrived."

Relief flooded Noah, recognizing the friendly and skilled Jaffney, thirty-something and close to Master Frederick.

"Jaffney! Thank the Roman gods, we've made it," Logan nodded. "But as you can guess, things aren't well."

"Have you seen the others? Julius? Denver?"

"That's the bad part—they're dead," Logan replied hoarsely. "Would be best if we could slay Blade demon as solace for their souls."

"Indeed. So now, with 'the living' all here, come inside." Jaffney descended the tower. "Master Frederick is waiting by Camp Stone."

Master Frederick, the area's mightiest hunter and keeper of the sacred key, was also a noble. Though less experienced than Logan, his strength and talent were unmatched, the backbone and leader of their hunter's ensemble.

Noah admired him greatly, aspiring to become a master hunter like him—always ready, always equipped, forever matching the mightiest of demons, overcoming all obstacles. The anticipation of meeting the master surged within him.

Jaffney led the way.

"Have you encountered Blade demon? I have not," she sighed. "If I had, I could've weakened it by half—you know, so it wouldn't have killed Julius and poor Denver."

"Blade demon is a nightmare," Dalton muttered despondently.

"Scaring only cowards," Oliver taunted Dalton's fear.

Dalton glared at Oliver with resentment.

Jaffney, bothered by the brief discord, turned her head just in time to see the blood-soaked linen on Logan's waist.

"You're hurt," she observed.

"We have reasons to respect Blade demon, a powerful adversary," Logan replied.

"Yes..." Jaffney nodded, not probing further.

Only Noah, trailing behind, saw Logan wrap his cloak tighter, concealing his wound. Noah felt a pang of sorrow, understanding the concept of 'powerlessness' despite his young age of seventeen.