Before anything begins, in a hidden stone chamber far beyond this dimension—

  an ancient book stirred beneath the starlit sky, turning its pages without wind.

  It stopped on a newly formed leaf.

  Soft gold light seeped through the paper, gathering into two side?by?side images.

  Beneath each one, strange square?stroked characters surfaced, glowing faintly.

  Left image: Sunri’s profile—tired, eyes heavy with sorrow.

  【Name】Sunri

  【Archetype】Hunter

  【Level】1

  【Attributes】Perception / Empathy / Instinct

  【Skills】Tracking / Silent Step / Protective Instinct

  【Revelation】???

  Center image: Pardy’s sleeping face, lashes long and still.

  【Name】Pardy

  【Archetype】Child

  【Level】0

  【Attributes】Innocence / Sensitivity / Unknown

  【Skills】???

  【Revelation】Distorted

  The golden glow slowly faded.

  The images dissolved.

  Yet the page remained open—

  as if waiting for something.

  Or perhaps… simply recording.

  When the golden light faded, Sunri’s arms suddenly felt empty.

  He staggered and fell to his knees on a bed of silver?white moss.

  The cold seeped through his skin.

  His hands reached forward instinctively—

  and closed on nothing.

  “Pardy.”

  His voice echoed hollowly through the forest,

  absorbed by thick bark and swallowed before it could return.

  Sunri lurched to his feet, breath sharp and uneven.

  His gaze darted between towering trunks,

  dark green pillars rising into a canopy that fractured the light into shards.

  No sign of a child.

  No crying.

  Not even footprints—

  as if Pardy had never existed.

  A numbness crept into Sunri’s fingertips.

  Pardy hadn’t wandered off.

  The golden light had taken him whole,

  leaving not a trace.

  “Pardy—!”

  His chest felt violently scooped out,

  breath stumbling out of rhythm.

  He ran—

  blindly, without direction.

  His cloth shoes slipped on the wet moss;

  he fell, rose, fell again.

  Thorns tore his arms, leaving thin trails of blood,

  but he felt none of it.

  “Lunelle… Lunelle, where are you? Pardy’s gone!”

  He clutched the dark red pendant at his neck.

  Cold—

  as if sealed behind a wall of worlds.

  The sun?mark on his right palm glowed faintly,

  but offered no guidance,

  no resonance—

  only a silence too heavy to be natural.

  His steps finally faltered.

  He bent forward, hands braced on his knees,

  breath tearing at his chest.

  Sweat mixed with blood and dripped onto the silver moss,

  vanishing instantly—

  as though the forest had never intended to keep any trace of him.

  “Calm… breathe…”

  A two?year?old couldn’t have gone far.

  The light had vanished while Pardy was still in his arms—

  he had to be close.

  A low sound rolled through the distance.

  Not wind.

  Not a beast’s roar.

  More like a heavy, deliberate breath.

  Sunri lifted his head.

  The trees shivered.

  Leaves drifted down from high above.

  The sound came from deep within the forest,

  the ground trembling faintly with it.

  Mist gathered between the shadows,

  drawn by something unseen.

  Three li away, in the same forest.

  Zhang Qingyin gripped her serpent?patterned staff with one hand,

  the other pressed lightly against the pouch at her waist.

  Her breathing was nearly silent.

  She had been crouched on this branch for almost an hour.

  Her legs had gone numb and recovered several times,

  but she didn’t move.

  Below, a Riftbeast was feeding.

  It tore at the carcass of a large bird,

  its ink?black fur reflecting a muted sheen in the mistlight.

  Silver stripes along its body pulsed faintly with each chew.

  Its amber eyes swept the surroundings now and then,

  pupils shifting slowly between round and diamond shapes.

  Her master’s voice echoed in her mind—

  Riftbeast. Guardian of the Mistwood.

  Exceptional sight.

  Keen hearing.

  A nose that can separate three scents at once.

  A frontal confrontation is suicide.

  Concealment and patience are the only path.

  Her trial had three tasks:

  survive three days in the Mistwood,

  collect three materials.

  Night?glow moss and moon?tear fungus were already secured.

  Only the mist?horned beast’s single horn remained—

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  the hardest of the three.

  The Riftbeast finally finished eating.

  It tore off the bird’s skin,

  scraped the soil with its forepaw,

  and buried the remaining flesh and bones.

  Its movements were steady, almost ritualistic.

  Then it lifted its head

  and inhaled deeply.

  Qingyin’s breath froze.

  The Riftbeast’s gaze swept across the trunk she hid behind,

  lingering for three breaths.

  Then it turned away,

  took the bird skin in its jaws,

  and leapt lightly onto another tree.

  A few bounds later, its form dissolved into the mist.

  Qingyin waited another half?moment

  before letting out a slow breath.

  She slid down the tree.

  When her feet touched the ground, her legs buckled.

  She steadied herself against the trunk,

  waiting for her breath to settle.

  “First day and it’s already like this…” she murmured.

  “How am I supposed to survive the next two…”

  Her words cut off.

  Footsteps.

  Soft.

  Slow.

  Testing the ground with each step.

  Qingyin lowered her stance, staff raised.

  Her master’s warning surfaced—

  This area is a restricted zone.

  No one should be here except the forest’s own.

  Then she saw the child.

  He looked about two years old.

  Wearing a gray?blue cotton romper,

  bare feet sinking into the moss,

  steps slightly unsteady.

  Light brown hair caught faint gold in the mist.

  His eyes were quiet—

  far too quiet for his age.

  He walked toward a patch of glowing moss.

  Crouched.

  Touched it.

  The moss brightened instantly,

  shifting from pale blue to gold,

  illuminating the side of his face.

  He withdrew his hand.

  The glow dimmed.

  He stood, patted his hands,

  then turned—

  and looked straight into the bushes where Qingyin hid.

  Their eyes met.

  Qingyin froze.

  Her concealment technique had no flaws.

  Even the Riftbeast hadn’t sensed her.

  But the child was looking directly at her,

  the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

  Not a simple smile.

  More like a quiet acknowledgment.

  He walked toward her,

  steps wobbly but purposeful.

  Qingyin stepped out from the bushes,

  bending down, brushing hair from her forehead.

  “Little one, where are your parents?”

  She already knew something was wrong.

  The child came closer and tugged at her robe.

  He looked up at her, silent,

  pulling downward as if signaling something.

  Qingyin set her staff aside and lifted him.

  He spoke—

  soft voice, but surprisingly clear.

  “Hungry.”

  His forehead rested naturally against her chest.

  Qingyin stiffened, arms tightening instinctively.

  “Big sister hasn’t had a child. I don’t have milk for you,”

  she whispered.

  She studied his face.

  “Where did you come from? Where are your parents?”

  Her thoughts were still scattered.

  A two?year?old couldn’t survive alone in the Mistwood.

  And his clothes—

  too clean, untouched by mud.

  The child—

  she would later learn his name was Pardy—

  tilted his head,

  as if searching for the right answer.

  Then he raised a small hand

  and pointed upward.

  “Up there?”

  Qingyin looked up.

  Only layers of overlapping canopy.

  Pardy shook his head.

  He drew a circle in the air.

  Qingyin didn’t understand.

  Then Pardy’s stomach growled softly.

  He looked down at his belly,

  then up at her,

  lips tightening as if holding something back.

  Qingyin exhaled.

  “All right. Food first.”

  She held him more securely.

  “But you’ll have to tell me where your family is.”

  She didn’t finish the sentence.

  She froze.

  Thirty steps away,

  between the shadows of the trees,

  a Riftbeast stood silently.

  Its amber eyes locked onto them.

  Qingyin slowly lowered Pardy,

  shielding him behind her.

  Her throat tightened,

  breath shrinking to a thread.

  The Riftbeast growled—

  a low vibration that rattled bone.

  Qingyin shifted sideways,

  covering Pardy’s ears.

  But Pardy slipped free,

  patting her arm gently—

  as if comforting her.

  The Riftbeast crouched,

  muscles drawing taut,

  silver stripes pulsing—

  ready to strike.

  A man’s hoarse shout tore through the distance.

  “Pardy—! Pardy, where are you—!”

  Pardy’s eyes lit up.

  “Dad!”

  The Riftbeast’s gaze flicked.

  Qingyin seized the moment,

  grabbed Pardy,

  and ran.

  The Riftbeast reacted instantly.

  Its stripes flared bright,

  its body a blur of shadow closing in.

  Qingyin turned, shielding the child again,

  staff raised,

  mind racing.

  Waterbind—too slow.

  Shockwave—too weak.

  “Pardy!”

  The voice came from the side.

  Sunri burst through the undergrowth,

  clothes torn,

  face streaked with sweat and blood.

  He stumbled forward, arms spread.

  “Food.”

  He panted, forcing his voice steady.

  “Take it. Let the child go.”

  A flock of birds tangled ahead, impossible to brush aside.

  ut of nowhere, a sharp?tongued bird swooped in and muttered beside me:

  Chapter Two? The kid’s calmer than the adults. Humans are embarrassing.”

  …Hey.

  I’m the author here.

  And who exactly are you supposed to be?