After what happened yesterday, Teclos was in a sour mood this morning, but Talmir mistook it for him being tired.

Teclos sat at the wooden table, arms crossed, staring into nothing while steam curled lazily from the cup in front of him. Across from him, Talmir calmly sipped his tea as if the world were perfectly normal.

It wasn’t.

"Dad," Teclos began, voice tight, "who is that old fart that’s my mentor?"

Talmir almost spat his tea across the table.

He choked violently, coughing as liquid went down the wrong way. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he half-rose, glancing left and right—

As if expecting the man to materialize in the kitchen.

"You should show some respect, son," Talmir muttered hoarsely, still clearing his throat. "That man isn’t from here... but he is quite famous."

Teclos frowned.

"Huh? And who is he exactly?"

Talmir’s expression changed.

Closed off.

Careful.

"Just someone really scary, that’s all I can tell you."

Teclos blinked. "What? Why?"

Teclos’s mind churned.

Who exactly was this old fart, to silence his father?

And why would someone send an apparently dangerous old man to mentor him?

"Just know this," Talmir continued quietly, setting his cup down. "You shouldn’t anger him."

Teclos’s jaw tightened.

That old man didn’t deserve respect.

He hadn’t explained anything or warned him. He’d thrown him into a death trap and called it training... on top of that, he called him pathetic.

Respect?

For what?

Teclos felt something firm settle in his chest.

He had been trampled by "people from above" once before—in another life. Authority figures who expected obedience without earning it.

Not again.

Not in this life.

If the old man wanted respect, he would have to earn it by teaching him properly.

Teclos stood up.

"I’m heading out."

Talmir watched him carefully but didn’t say another word.

The two left the house together. The morning air was crisp and fresh. Frost clung to rooftops, and thin trails of smoke rose from chimneys across Kolma.

They walked in silence toward the guild hall.

Hunters were already gathering. Some were laughing while they chatted, and some were checking their gear.

Once they reached the entrance, Talmir stopped.

"I’ll be mentoring another novice today," he said, eyes lingering on his son. "Just... keep your head cool."

Teclos gave a short nod.

Talmir disappeared into the main hall.

Teclos remained near the reception area, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the entrance every so often.

He waited.

And minutes passed.

Other mentors had already arrived and taken their novices. Laughter and chatter drifted through the hall as pairs and small groups departed.

Teclos stayed where he was.

Waiting.

After a while, part of him wondered if the old man would show up at all.

Another part wondered if he would simply appear behind him again—

Without warning.

He exhaled slowly. Yesterday, he had been through a lot. Today, he promised himself that it would be different. Whether the old man explained himself or not—

Teclos swore to himself that he would not be caught unprepared again.

Teclos stood near the reception desk, leaning lightly against one of the wooden pillars. From the outside, he looked calm—arms loosely crossed, posture relaxed, gaze drifting across the hall.

Inside, however, he was anything but relaxed.

The guild hall was already busy when he arrived, but the morning rush was slowly dying down. Mentors had come and gone, collecting their assigned novices and heading out toward the forest, the plains, or the town outskirts. Groups had formed, instructions were given, and laughter and chatter echoed through the large hall.

Now the crowd was thinning.

A few hunters remained at the bar finishing their morning drinks. Clerks sorted papers behind the reception counter. The occasional hunter passed through the doors, either returning from night patrols or heading out late.

Teclos kept one eye on the entrance.

Yesterday’s humiliation still lingered in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t pull out.

The word "pathetic" really grated on his nerves the longer he waited there.

The memory made his jaw tighten.

Just as he was beginning to wonder if he should just head home—

The front door opened.

Cold morning air swept briefly into the hall.

And there he was.

The old man stepped inside casually, brushing a bit of frost from his coat as if he had just come back from a short walk. No dramatic appearance. No sudden manifestation out of thin air like yesterday.

Just a normal entrance.

Teclos watched him from the corner of his eye.

The old hunter didn’t even look at him.

Instead, he walked straight to the reception desk as if Teclos didn’t exist. That alone made his eyebrows twitch in annoyance.

The old man leaned on the counter and spoke quietly with the clerk. Their conversation was brief—too quiet to overhear—but the clerk eventually handed him a rolled parchment.

A map.

The old man unrolled it halfway, scanning it briefly with a keen eye before rolling it back up.

He still didn’t acknowledge Teclos.

No greeting, not even looking in his direction... nothing. It was like he was just air to him.

It grated on Teclos more than he wanted to admit.

But he kept himself still.

’You won’t get a reaction out of me that easily...’

After a few moments, the old man finally turned and walked toward him, the rolled map resting loosely in one hand.

He stopped a step away.

"Follow me, brat."

Teclos felt a vein throb on his temple.

The word nearly dragged his frustration and anger out of him, but he forced it down. His jaw clenched briefly before he pushed himself away from the pillar.

’Fine. No need to greet that old ass either.’

The two of them left the guild hall together and stepped out into the cold morning air.

Kolma was slowly waking up around them. A few merchants were opening stalls near the square, smoke drifted from chimneys, and townsfolk shuffled along the streets wrapped in thick winter cloaks.

The old man didn’t slow down and headed straight toward the forest path.

Teclos followed several steps behind, matching his pace.

Silence fell between them again.

The crunch of frost beneath their boots and the distant caw of a crow were the only sounds accompanying their walk.

Teclos paid closer attention this time.

Yesterday, he had walked half-distracted, assuming nothing dangerous would happen.

Now he knew that the old man would just toss him to the beasts and disappear again. So today, he watched the forest more carefully.

He noted the direction of the wind.

He tracked how the trees grew thicker or thinner in certain patches.

He quietly measured the distance in his head as they walked.

Eventually, the familiar shape of the shed appeared between the trees.

Runes carved along its wooden walls glimmered faintly with residual mana.

The old man unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"Short sword."

Teclos didn’t argue this time.

He removed his bow and main blade, handing them over without comment. The old man placed them inside the shed, then reached for a familiar weapon.

The same short sword as yesterday.

He tossed it lightly, and Teclos caught it.

The weight felt somewhat familiar now.

The shed door closed again with a dull wooden thud, the lock clicking into place.

Then they walked once more.

But this time, the direction was different.

Instead of heading toward the rising slopes that led to the mountains, the old man angled them toward flatter terrain deeper in the forest.

The trees grew more spaced apart here.

The ground was steadier, less cluttered with rocks and roots.

Visibility stretched farther between the trunks, though thick patches of undergrowth still broke the sightlines in some places.

Teclos had a suspicion that this wasn’t random. That the old man had chosen this location deliberately.

They continued to veer deeper.

Again, like yesterday, the forest felt strangely quiet.

The silence wasn’t natural. The old man had cleared the area of beasts again.

It nagged at his mind. How was he doing that? Did the beasts run away? Or did he have a way to kill them from afar? Was he simply avoiding them?

After some time, the forest finally opened up.

The trees thinned, and a wide clearing appeared ahead, sunlight filtering through the canopy and reflecting off patches of frost that still clung stubbornly to the ground. It wasn’t a large meadow, but compared to the dense forest around it, the open space felt almost exposed.

The old man stopped.

Teclos halted a few steps behind him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind whispered quietly through the branches overhead.

Then the old man turned.

"Alright, brat," he said flatly.

Teclos watched him carefully this time.

"Again, like before, your only mission is to hide and make it back to the shed before today ends."

No further instructions.

Just that.

And before Teclos could say a word—

The old man vanished before his eyes.

Gone.

Just like yesterday.

Instead of being awed, weirded out, or shocked, Teclos didn’t waste even half a second.

The moment the man disappeared, Teclos bent his knees and jumped upward, catching a thick branch overhead. With a smooth motion, he pulled himself up and leaned against the trunk, his body merging naturally with the shadow cast by the surrounding foliage.

He slowed his breathing down.

And focused, closing his eyes briefly to let his darkness spread outward.

The forest was full of shadows. Noon sunlight struggled to pierce through the thick canopy, leaving dark patches everywhere—between branches, beneath roots, behind rocks.

For someone with darkness mana, it was like a web connecting everything.

Teclos let his mana flow freely from the second circle within his heart.

Since advancing, his output and control over his abilities had grown significantly.

If he remained still and concentrated, he could now sense nearly everything within a hundred-meter radius.

The forest around him slowly came alive inside his mind.

The shifting leaves. The tiny rodents beneath the snow.

The sway of branches.

And then—

Something else.

Right at the edge of his range.

A presence that was large and moving quickly.

Teclos’s eyes snapped open.

’I knew it...’

Then another presence showed itself.

And another.

It was a pack of direwolves.

His heart sank slightly as recognition came to mind.

’This crazy old bastard.’

Massive wolf-like beasts known for their speed and coordination. Their grey-white fur blended easily into the winter forests, and they hunted with frightening efficiency.

Not only were they fast enough to outrun most prey—

They could launch compressed wind blades from a distance.

And when they hunted...

They were almost completely silent.

Teclos remained still, watching through the network of shadows.

The wolves seemed to be spreading out, fanning through the forest like a tightening net and hunting for something...

Then it dawned on him.

The wind.

The cold breeze blew from behind him—straight toward the approaching wolves.

Teclos’s eyes narrowed.

That meant his scent was being carried directly to them, and they already knew his rough location.

He couldn’t stay here, so without hesitation, he moved.

A shadow tendril extended from his hand, wrapping silently around a nearby branch. He swung forward and caught another trunk, his feet barely touching bark before launching again.

From tree to tree and branch to branch.

He left no tracks on the ground or in the snow as he avoided it entirely, moving like that.

His shadow tendrils did all the work, silently pulling and slinging him through the forest like a phantom moving between the canopy.

Below him, the direwolves reached the clearing where he had stayed.

Teclos felt their presence converge on his previous position.

They were efficient.

The wolves fanned out again almost immediately, forming a loose arc that slowly began closing.

They weren’t chasing randomly.

They were cutting off his retreat routes.

A chill ran down Teclos’s spine.

If he had lingered in that clearing even thirty seconds longer...

He might’ve been surrounded already.

And unlike the frost lynx yesterday—

There were multiple attackers now and multiple angles to defend from.

A fight like that would quickly turn into another life-or-death struggle.

Teclos kept moving, careful not to create noise. Each swing was controlled, precise, barely disturbing the branches he used.

Still—

The wolves continued adjusting toward him.

Somehow, they were tracking him...

And something else bothered Teclos as he frowned slightly.

He hadn’t heard a single howl.

Yet they moved with perfect coordination.

As if each wolf knew exactly where the others were.

As if they were communicating silently somehow.

His gaze sharpened.

"Just how smart are these things...?" he muttered under his breath.

The forest ahead darkened slightly as the sun dipped lower behind the mountains.

The pack kept hunting him.

It was looking like a long day was ahead of Teclos.