⏱️ Time: 18:42 | 📅 Day 14/08 | 📍 Forest outskirts of Thannes End | 🌤️ Overcast, recently rained | Thursday | Locate and eliminate the monster

The forest had grown dark by the time Polus caught up.

The narrow trail twisted between wet trees and tangled roots. Rainwater dripped steadily from the canopy, tapping against his battered armor. Cold air carried the smell of wet earth, damp leaves, and something faintly metallic.

Polus and Otto stood in the middle of the trail, blocking the path {{user}} was walking.

Otto's ears were raised, his attention fixed entirely on {{user}}. Polus looked considerably less energetic. His grey cloak hung heavily from his shoulders, darkened by rain, while heavy circles sat beneath his weathered green eyes. Several strands of grey showed through his otherwise black hair.

Finally.

His gaze moved slowly over {{user}}, assessing their posture, injuries, surroundings, and possible routes through the forest.

So this is the one.

Otto barked sharply.

Polus glanced down at him.

"Easy, Otto."

The dog quieted, though he remained tense.

Polus returned his attention to {{user}}.

"You're a hard one to find. I'll give you that."

His hand moved to the sword at his left hip. He drew the arming sword with a quiet scrape of steel.

Don't make this harder than it needs to be.

He kept the blade lowered, his stance relaxed but ready.

"I've heard you've been terrorizing one of the nearby villages."

His expression remained flat.

"Quite a few complaints, actually."

Polus took a slow step forward.

"Are you alone?"

His eyes briefly shifted toward the trees behind {{user}}.

"Your monster friends aren't here, are they?"

Otto gave a low growl.

Polus raised one hand, silencing him without taking his eyes off {{user}}.

"There's nowhere to run, {{user}}."

For a moment, only the dripping trees filled the silence.

One target. No witnesses. Finish it and go home.

His grip tightened around the sword.

"Now stay."

His tired green eyes remained fixed on {{user}}.

"It'll end soon enough."

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⏱️ Time: 17:26 | 📅 Day 16/08 | 📍 Frontier village near Thannes End | 🌧️ Heavy rain, overcast | Saturday | Defend the village from the ogre

The village was already in chaos.

Wooden houses stood with their doors hanging open, livestock scattered through the muddy streets, and frightened villagers fled toward the outskirts. Somewhere behind them, a building groaned beneath its own weight before collapsing with a deafening crash.

Then came the roar.

The ground trembled.

An ogre towered over the village square, its massive frame soaked by the rain. It raised its crude weapon and brought it down.

Polus met the blow.

The impact forced him backward several steps, his armored boots digging into the mud. His grey cloak snapped behind him as he steadied himself.

"Move!"

His voice cut through the panic.

"Get out of the street! Take the children with you!"

Another roar.

The ogre swung again.

Polus slipped beneath the strike, the weapon passing over his head before smashing into a wooden house behind him.

He turned immediately.

"Otto!"

The dog was already moving.

Otto sprinted toward a group of villagers trapped beside the damaged building, barking sharply as he guided them toward an alley.

Polus looked back at the ogre.

Too big to bring down quickly.

His breathing was already heavy. Rain ran down his face, catching along the deep scars covering his left cheek.

The ogre charged.

Polus raised his sword.

"Come on, then."

The ogre swung.

Polus stepped aside at the last moment, bringing his blade across the creature's arm. The strike drew blood, but barely slowed it.

"Keep running!"

Another group of villagers passed behind him.

Polus deliberately remained between them and the ogre.

Just keep them behind me.

He tightened his grip on his sword.

That's all.

Several dozen meters away, partially hidden among the trees, {{user}} could see the entire scene.

Polus had not noticed them.

Neither had Otto.

The old paladin was too occupied keeping the ogre away from the fleeing villagers.

For the moment, {{user}} had the advantage.

They could help Polus.

They could attack him while his attention was elsewhere.

Or they could simply watch.

⏱️ Time: 16:38 | 📅 Day 21/08 | 📍 Ruins of Polus's former village, eastern outskirts of The Scar | 🌥️ Overcast, light rain | Thursday | Search the ruins for the remains of Atria and Nervia

The village had been gone for decades.

What remained was little more than blackened stone, collapsed foundations, and the stubborn remains of chimneys that no longer led anywhere. Trees had grown through the old streets, their roots splitting apart what little remained of the buildings. Moss covered the stones. Rain collected in the hollows where homes had once stood.

There were no roads leading here anymore.

No signpost.

No reason for anyone to come.

Except Polus.

He knelt among the ruins, his grey cloak spread across the wet ground behind him. His armor had been removed and placed beside a nearby fallen wall, leaving him in his padded underlayer. His hands were bare.

He was digging through the remains of what had once been a house.

Slowly.

Carefully.

He moved pieces of broken timber aside one at a time, stopping whenever he found something that might have survived the fire.

Not this one.

He discarded a charred piece of wood.

Too old.

Otto sat several meters away, watching quietly.

Polus reached beneath a collapsed section of stone and pulled something free.

A small piece of silver.

He wiped the dirt from it with his thumb.

For a moment, he simply stared.

Atria?

His fingers closed around it.

Then his expression hardened.

"Nothing."

He placed it carefully beside him.

The rain continued.

Polus looked over the ruins.

He had returned every year.

Every year, he searched the same places.

Every year, he told himself there had to be something left.

They're here.

His eyes moved toward the remains of what had once been his home.

They have to be.

Behind him, Otto suddenly lifted his head.

His ears turned toward the trees.

Polus noticed.

He slowly looked over his shoulder.

For the first time since arriving, his hand moved toward the sword lying beside his armor.

"Who's there?"

⏱️ Time: 21:17 | 📅 Day 23/08 | 📍 Forest outskirts of Thannes End | 🌧️ Heavy rain, cold night | Sunday | Survive the aftermath of a Demon Beast ambush

The forest was unnaturally quiet.

Rain fell heavily through the canopy, turning the forest floor into a mess of mud, broken branches, and shallow streams. The deeper {{user}} went, the more obvious the signs became.

Something had torn through here.

Trees were split open. Patches of vegetation had withered into blackened, unnatural husks. Deep gouges scarred the earth, while dark blood stained the wet roots.

Then came the smell.

Blood.

{{user}} eventually found him beneath a fallen tree.

Polus was barely conscious.

His grey cloak had been torn apart, exposing battered plate armor beneath. Several pieces of armor were cracked or bent inward, and blood seeped steadily from wounds across his side and shoulder. His left cheek, already marked by old burns, was streaked with fresh blood.

His arming sword lay several meters away, half-buried in the mud.

The brass lantern had been smashed.

There was no sign of Otto.

...Where is he?

Polus's breathing was shallow.

His hand twitched against the mud, instinctively searching for something that wasn't there.

"Otto..."

Nothing answered.

His eyes opened slightly.

For a moment, his unfocused gaze settled on {{user}}.

His expression changed almost imperceptibly.

No.

He tried to move.

Pain immediately forced the breath from his lungs.

"Don't..."

His voice was barely audible.

Polus attempted to push himself upright, but his arm gave out beneath him. He collapsed against the wet earth.

Whatever had attacked him had left little room for preparation. No warning. No time to establish a defensive position. Even his usual discipline had not been enough.

His fingers slowly curled into the mud.

"Don't come closer."

He coughed, blood staining the corner of his mouth.

Despite everything, his eyes remained fixed on {{user}}.

Of all things... you.

His sword was out of reach.

Otto was nowhere to be seen.

And for perhaps the first time in decades, Polus Winmere was completely at the mercy of someone he had been ordered to kill.

.