Dawn

  Kuro woke before the others as the first pale light of dawn crept through the windows. Fenric was sprawled across the couch, snoring softly, one arm dangling off the edge. Lovia, somehow, had ended up on the floor, her legs still propped up on the couch cushions, her hair a tangled mess across her face. She mumbled something incoherent in her sleep.

  Moving quietly so as not to disturb them, Kuro slipped out the back door.

  Behind the house, hidden in the hollow of an ancient tree where he'd concealed them upon first arriving in this world, were his possessions from Earth. His trusted rifle, still wrapped in the cloth he'd used to protect it. The artifact—the Ebonwing—that had brought him here, its surface as black and cold as he remembered.

  Everything was exactly as he'd left it.

  Kuro's hand moved unconsciously to his right shoulder, remembering. Last night, while bathing, he'd noticed the cursed mark had moved. It had crept upward from his hand toward his shoulder, the lines intertwining in an eerie blueish-grey light that pulsed faintly beneath his skin like veins filled with moonlight.

  His uniform hung nearby, still drying from yesterday's washing. He retrieved his knife from where he'd left it near his boots.

  Time to test something.

  He removed his shirt and raised the blade to his left palm. With clinical precision, he drew it across his skin—deeper than a simple scratch, enough to be dangerous. Blood welled up immediately, bright red against his pale skin, though the flow was surprisingly minimal.

  He waited.

  Thirty seconds. A minute. Two minutes.

  The wound remained open, but the bleeding had already stopped.

  So he could still be injured. The healing wasn't automatic, or perhaps it only activated under certain conditions. That was important to know.

  Now for the real test.

  Kuro raised the knife to his shoulder, positioning the blade directly over the cursed mark. The blueish-grey lines seemed to pulse faster as the metal approached, as if sensing the threat. He pressed the tip against his skin and pushed.

  The blade didn't penetrate.

  What the...?

  He tried again, applying more pressure. The knife's point should have broken skin easily—he could feel the pressure, the force—but it was as if he were trying to cut through stone. The cursed mark's area was completely impervious.

  The curse, whatever it was, had made that part of his body invulnerable.

  Creak.

  The sound of the back door opening.

  Kuro quickly pulled his shirt back on, covering the mark and the cut on his palm.

  Fenric emerged, his hair sticking up in wild directions, yawning. "Partner!" His voice was cheerful despite the early hour. "You're up early. What are you doing—" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he noticed the knife in Kuro's hand and the blood on his palm. "Wait—dude, you're hurt! What happened?"

  Fenric rushed forward and grabbed Kuro's injured hand, examining the cut with genuine concern. Then his eyes flicked to the knife, and understanding dawned on his face. "You were... trying to see if you could heal, weren't you?"

  Silence.

  "...Hm. Something like that."

  "So you've been wondering about it this whole time too." Fenric's expression shifted to curiosity mixed with exasperation. "With your nonchalant way of handling things, I thought you knew why it happened. Guess not, huh?" He paused, studying the wound more carefully. "You didn't heal this time though... hm. Do you have any idea what's causing it?"

  "No."

  "Hmm... weird." Fenric's gaze dropped to Kuro's other hand, and his eyes widened slightly. "Oh, you removed your gloves. I thought that hand was badly hurt—that's why you always kept it covered. But there's no scar or any mark at all." He looked up at Kuro with a curious, almost triumphant expression, like he'd finally caught him in something. "Interesting."

  "It probably healed with the rest of my body after the Queen fight."

  "Tch." Fenric's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Yeah... that's possible, I guess."

  He turned away from Kuro, looking out over the small yard behind the house. The snow that had blanketed everything was beginning to melt in earnest now, revealing patches of brown earth and the first hints of green underneath. Fenric smiled, a genuine expression of warmth.

  "It looks like winter's ending soon. Spring will be here before we know it."

  Morning After

  Inside the house, Lovia woke suddenly from her position on the floor.

  Her head jerked up, a trail of drool on her chin. She looked around in confusion, trying to piece together how she'd ended up here. Then memory returned—falling asleep on Kuro's shoulder, the warmth, the comfort, his voice telling stories in that flat, emotionless way that she somehow found soothing—

  "Wow..." She smiled with pure joy at the memory.

  Then she noticed her current state—face wet with drool, sleeping in an unwomanly sprawl on the floor like some tavern drunk. "Shit!"

  Her face went from blushing happiness to beet-red embarrassment in an instant. She scrambled to her feet, looking around frantically for Kuro, and when she didn't see him, her mortification only intensified.

  Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. Not only did I fall asleep on him—which felt nice—but he saw me sleeping like an animal! Oh my!

  She slammed her hands over her face, as if she could physically push the embarrassment back inside. "Shit shit shit shit!" The words came out as a furious whisper as she shook her head violently, trying to dispel the memories.

  Creakkk...

  The back door opening. Footsteps.

  "Oh shit!"

  Kuro and Fenric walked back into the house, mid-conversation about something. They stopped when they noticed Lovia was already awake.

  "Morning, Lovia!" Fenric called cheerfully. "Sleep well?"

  Her face went nuclear. "I—yes—very well—I mean—I should go—the guild—Master Rhanes probably—" She was backing toward the door, stumbling over her own feet.

  Kuro looked at her with his usual blank expression. "Are you alright?"

  "FINE! Totally fine! Very fine! Extremely fine!" She grabbed her coat, put it on backwards, realized her mistake, took it off, dropped it, picked it up. "Okay bye!"

  She fled through the front door without looking back.

  Fenric watched her go, then turned to Kuro with a massive grin.

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  "Must be busy," Kuro said flatly.

  "You really have no idea, do you?"

  "Idea about what?"

  Fenric laughed. "Nothing, partner. Nothing at all."

  The Grind

  The next few days passed in a blur of minor quests and tedious work.

  Kuro and Fenric took every assignment they could find—escorting merchants to nearby villages, clearing minor beasts from farmland, investigating strange noises in abandoned buildings, retrieving lost items, even helping repair a damaged water wheel. The work was unglamorous, often boring, but it was necessary. Each completed quest added stars to their records, slowly building their reputation toward the coveted C-rank.

  After a particularly exhausting morning dealing with a family of aggressive badger-like creatures that had taken up residence in a grain storage building, they collapsed into chairs at the guild's tavern.

  Kuro stared at the quest completion notice in front of him, his expression darker than usual.

  "After all that," he said flatly, "just ten stars. Seriously."

  Fenric took a long drink of his beer before responding. "Well, with you being a 'nuisance' and all—" he used air quotes mockingly—"that's how it works. It's a tedious job. Unless..." He paused, then leaned in closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Unless you tell the truth about the Hrungnir Queen. And, you know..." His voice became barely audible. "Killing Ravmor. Maybe then you'd be promoted straight to B-rank or higher. What do you say?"

  Kuro turned to look at him with a sharp, cold stare that needed no words to translate its meaning: You'd better shut up, or else.

  "Cool, partner, cool!" Fenric raised his hands in surrender, leaning back. "I'm just messing around. Can't a guy joke?" He paused, then changed the subject. "Anyway, did you notice Lovia's been avoiding you for the past few days?"

  "Hm. I hadn't noticed."

  "Of course you hadn't." Fenric shook his head in exasperation. "Come on, man. Enough with the quests already. Pay attention to the women too. Live a little! Euneim isn't going anywhere." He gestured across the guild hall. "Look at her."

  Kuro followed his gaze. Lovia was at her reception desk, but she kept glancing in their direction—quick, furtive looks followed by immediately looking away when she thought he might notice. She was fidgeting with her papers, organizing and reorganizing the same stack three times.

  "So?" Fenric prompted. "You seeing this?"

  But Kuro had already turned away, his attention drawn elsewhere. His eyes were fixed on the windows, his head tilted slightly as if listening to something distant. His cursed mark began to throb—a dull ache pulsing in rhythm with something he couldn't quite identify.

  Reacting to something?

  "Kuro?" Fenric waved a hand in front of his face. "Dude, where are you looking?"

  "Do you feel that?" Kuro's voice was quiet, focused.

  "Hm?" Fenric strained his senses. "Feel what? I don't—wait." His enhanced hearing picked up something. "You mean hear? Yeah, I hear... people running? Toward the town. Screaming."

  Kuro stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. Without a word of explanation, he headed toward the exit.

  "Kuro? Partner, where are you—" Fenric scrambled to follow.

  The Warning

  In the town's guard house, Chief Barvtov sat behind his desk, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he reviewed reports and petitions from his subordinates. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the smoke that curled lazily upward.

  "The Spring Festival is in two days," one of his guards reported, reading from a document. "It's being held in Normain Town this year."

  "As every year," Barvtov muttered around his cigarette, his tone suggesting this was old, tiresome news.

  "Sir?"

  "Carry on."

  "Yes, Chief. The Chief of Normain is asking for—"

  "Yeah, yeah. The usual. Extra guards for protection and crowd control." Barvtov waved his hand dismissively. Next."

  "Yes, sir. Regarding Berrydew Forest near Tuskber—there was a wildfire that burned nearly half the forest. It's been some days since it happened, and smoke is still trailing from the trees. The locals are terrified. They're saying it was the work of a devil or some kind of curse."

  Barvtov's expression shifted from irritation to genuine confusion. "Fire? In the forest? In the middle of winter?" His disbelief was evident.

  "Yes, sir. You heard correctly. I also thought it was strange when I received the report."

  "Hmm..." Barvtov leaned back in his chair, processing this information. "No wonder the locals think like that. It does sound unnatural. We should send someone to investigate. Get a proper—"

  "CHIEFFFFFFFFF!"

  The scream cut through the air like a blade.

  Barvtov jumped, nearly dropping his cigarette. "What the hell was that?"

  "Sir, it came from outside!"

  Barvtov rushed to the door, his subordinates close behind. When he emerged into the street, the scene that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

  A man stood in the middle of the road, severely wounded and crying out in pain. His armor was torn, his face covered in blood, his arm nearly severed. Behind him, two more figures lay on the ground in no better condition—one collapsed entirely, the other bleeding profusely from multiple severe wounds.

  "What—what the hell happened?" Barvtov demanded, rushing forward.

  The standing man tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. "It's... it's... it's..." He gulped, struggling. "It's..."

  "Speak, damn it!" Barvtov's patience, already thin, evaporated entirely.

  "Calm down, Barvtov."

  The voice was quiet but carried absolute authority. The crowd that had begun gathering parted, and Master Rhanes walked through, his expression grave.

  He approached the wounded man and placed a water bottle to his lips. "Here. Drink first." Then he turned to the guards. "Take the wounded to the physician. Now."

  "Yes, sir!" Multiple voices responded in unison.

  Rhanes pointed to the man who was still standing. "You're a B-rank adventurer. Vinrick, correct?"

  "Y-yes, Master."

  "Before you get treated, I need information. Can you manage that?"

  "Yes, Master." Vinrick took a shaky breath, his hands trembling violently. "Me and my team were traveling to my home village—Meadewfall. And when we reached there, it was... it was..." His voice broke. Tears began streaming down his face as he struggled to get the words out.

  Rhanes's posture shifted, becoming both more grim and more compassionate. Barvtov felt a chill run down his spine—he'd known Rhanes for decades, and this expression meant something truly terrible had happened.

  Rhanes moved quickly, stepping forward to embrace the sobbing adventurer. When he spoke, his voice was sad and infinitely caring. "I understand. I do. You don't need to describe everything. Just... just tell me one thing. Just the name."

  Vinrick was bawling now, his entire body shaking with grief and trauma. Through his sobs, he managed to choke out: "Horned Orcs! I think... I think the King has awakened. They destroyed everything. Everyone. My family, my child... she just... turned six..." His voice cracked completely. "The elders—nobody left... Just pieces... They're coming... run... ruuuun! They're—"

  "Enough." Rhanes's voice was gentle but firm. "You've done well. You've warned us. Now let them treat you."

  "...Yes... yes, sir..." Vinrick allowed himself to be led away by the guards, still weeping, his words dissolving into incoherent sobs.

  The crowd had gone deathly silent. Everyone had heard. Horned Orcs. The King awakened. Just pieces.

  "Hammer, I..." Barvtov started, then trailed off, unsure what to say.

  "Don't worry. I know you're just concerned about your people. That's what makes you a good chief." Rhanes's voice was calm, but his eyes were dark with calculation. "Now, as for the matter at hand—it seems the Horned Orcs are traveling toward us."

  The crowd erupted. Panic spread like wildfire. People began running in all directions, shouting about fleeing, about gathering belongings, about where to go.

  Barvtov raised his voice over the chaos. "Wait—Hammer, why do you look so serious? They're just orcs. We've dealt with orc raids before. We can handle it."

  "Didn't you hear him?" Rhanes turned to face Barvtov fully, and the chief took an involuntary step back at the intensity in his eyes. "Yes, they're orcs. But these aren't the disorganized raiders we've faced before. These are Horned Orcs—close to the Giant race in size and strength. And worse, they have a crowned one. A King." He paused, letting that sink in. "A village was annihilated. Every person. Every building. Just pieces."

  "I see..." Barvtov felt his throat go dry. "That does sound serious. But why? Why are they coming here? What do they want?"

  "I don't know," Rhanes admitted, his brow furrowing. "But it's rare for them to go all-out for blood like this. Coming straight for our town—it doesn't make sense. There's something else going on." His mind was already working through scenarios. "I can defeat them in single combat, probably even handle a small group. But if their numbers are high, some will get past me and bleed into the town. We have adventurers, yes, but I don't know if we have enough. Not for this."

  He stood in deep thought, trying to formulate a plan.

  Then a name came to him. Kuro.

  At that exact moment, as if summoned by the thought, Rhanes heard a familiar sound—the mechanical roar of Beretta, Fenric's enchanted motorcycle. He looked up just in time to see two figures on the vehicle, zooming past the panicked crowd toward the town's southern outskirts.

  Rhanes squinted, confirming what he suspected. It was Kuro in the sidecar and Fenric driving, both already headed in the direction of the approaching threat.

  Of course he is, Rhanes thought, a mixture of concern and grim satisfaction crossing his face. He sensed them coming before anyone else did.

  "Partner, are you sure about this?" Fenric shouted over the wind and Beretta's engine as they raced down Bear Path, the road leading south from the town. "I mean, you defeated the Hrungnir Queen, yeah, but these are different than beasts! They're like us—carrying weapons, using tactics, with actual intelligence and—"

  "I didn't ask for your opinion," Kuro cut him off, his voice cold and flat. "Just drive."

  There was something in Kuro's tone that made Fenric's objections die in his throat. He glanced sideways at his partner and saw something he'd seen only rarely—a sharpness in Kuro's eyes, an intensity that suggested this was about more than just defending the town.

  "Something's off," Kuro added quietly, almost to himself.

  And this pain I'm feeling... like it's leading me, he thought, his hand unconsciously moving to his shoulder where the cursed mark throbbed with increasing intensity.

  "What do you mean?" Fenric asked.

  But Kuro didn't answer. His hand rested on Mosvmora's hilt, and his eyes were fixed on the southern horizon, where a thin column of smoke was beginning to rise against the afternoon sky.

  Fenric swallowed his fear and pressed down harder on the accelerator. Beretta responded with a surge of speed, and they flew down the road toward whatever awaited them.

  Behind them, their town prepared for war.

  Ahead of them, the Horned King's army marched.

  And between them, two warriors rushed to meet their fate.