Chapter: Footsteps in the White Mist
The thick mist swirled low across the forest floor, curling like ghostly serpents around gnarled roots and jagged rocks. Each step landed with a soft creek on the wet wood beneath, echoing faintly in the hollow silence of the White Mist Woodland.
Luke Astoria moved steadily forward, his eyes narrowed with the sharp alertness of a seasoned hunter. Golden strands of hair framed his youthful but weathered face, falling just below the beaded necklace that clicked lightly with each step—red and blue stones glinting in the pale light. His white shirt was stained with days of travel, partially concealed beneath a snug brown vest and pants built for trekking through thorns and mud. He was not dressed to impress—he was dressed to survive.
Luke Astoria, monster hunter.
His goal: singular. Clear. Ruthless.
Slay them all.
Charybdis, devourer of fleets.
Leviathan, the dread tide serpent.
Behemoth, the walking mountain.
Ifrits, fire-born scourges of ruin.
He would hunt them. Track them. Bring each myth crashing down to the mortal world with steel and strategy.
Trailing behind him, the muffled steps of seven short figures shuffled through the fog. The Seven Dwarves—each with their own quirks, skills, and unbreakable loyalty—followed their towering leader with a mixture of curiosity and caution. None of them spoke. Not yet. The silence was sacred here.
Suddenly, Luke paused. One gloved hand rose in the air—finger extended in a firm signal.
Silence.
The dwarves halted immediately. A few adjusted their oversized packs or checked their tiny crossbows, but none spoke. They trusted him. Luke tilted his head, his hand subtly brushing the interface on the bracer strapped to his left forearm.
The thin glass-like surface lit up with a flicker.
Luke Investigation & Analysis App: SCAN INITIATED
A soft pulse vibrated under his skin.
Detecting...
Analyzing terrain signatures...
Unidentified movement: 127 meters northeast.
Thermal anomaly: confirmed.
Type: unknown.
Estimated threat level: Grade A+
Luke's eyes narrowed. His breath slowed. His fingers flexed slightly over the hilt of the hunter's blade strapped diagonally across his back.
"Something's out there," he whispered under his breath.
The mist parted faintly up ahead, disturbed not by wind—but by motion. Large motion.
Branches swayed without sound.
A low, distant growl rumbled, not quite from the earth... but not quite above it either.
Luke turned his head just enough to glance at the dwarves.
"Form a perimeter," he ordered, voice low. "No fire. No noise. If it sees you, don't run—scatter."
Without question, the dwarves moved, spreading into the surrounding thickets with silent discipline.
Luke tapped the app again.
Target Lock: Initiating.
The interface displayed a pulsing dot, drawing a line through the misted terrain toward the heat source. His fingers reached to his belt, retrieving a small vial of glowing blue liquid. One swig, and his pulse steadied even more. He exhaled, his body acclimating to hunter's focus.
"Let's see what monster fate dragged into my woods tonight," Luke murmured, eyes glinting.
Then, with blade in hand and purpose in stride, Luke disappeared into the fog.
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Chapter: The Taken
Luke pushed through the fog with cautious grace, each bootfall steady and deliberate. The flickering pulse from his investigation app guided him through the underbrush like a compass made from pure intuition. His instincts told him a land beast was near. But instincts were only half the game—truth came from data.
Then he saw it. Not a beast.
Not even a threat.
Instead, nestled between moss-covered cliffs and carved into the sloping rock was a small dwarven village, previously hidden from all maps and most eyes. Dozens of stone homes were built into the walls, glowing softly with lantern-light, their warm hues fighting off the silver of the mist. Rope bridges and pulley lifts connected the cliffs and structures like a living maze in the clouds.
Luke lowered his blade slightly. The app's signal had led him here. Not a monster... but something was wrong.
Shouts echoed across the narrow ravines. Dwarves ran in clustered groups, eyes wide with panic. Smoke drifted from a toppled brazier. Crates and baskets of food were abandoned mid-meal. The entire village buzzed with disarray, chaos barely contained within its stone walls.
A dwarf woman—gray braided hair, face streaked with soot—rushed up to Luke as he approached the main gathering square. Her eyes were wild with fear.
"You!" she cried. "You're not from here—you're the hunter, aren't you?! Please, our children—our children are gone!"
Luke's brows furrowed. He knelt slightly to meet her gaze. "Gone?"
"Taken," she whispered hoarsely. "Last night... a demon came from the hills. With eyes like coal and hands like black fire. It stole into our homes... and took seven of our children. Just vanished into the mist."
The dwarves gathered around her nodded gravely, murmuring confirmation. One elderly dwarf cursed and slammed a fist into a barrel. A younger one sobbed softly behind a wall. The village wasn't just scared—they were broken.
From Luke's party, the youngest of the Seven—a sharp-eyed dwarf named Rindle—stepped forward.
"Then we'll find 'em," Rindle said, gripping his axe. "Ain't no demon gonna make off with dwarven kin on our watch."
Luke glanced at him briefly, then looked back at the app. His finger slid across the glowing interface.
RECALIBRATING TARGET.
Adjusting to Demonic Residue and Ethereal Footprints…
Ping.
A trail appeared—faint, winding, but very real. Glowing faintly in red like ember-ash footsteps drifting into the distant hills, just beyond the edge of the misty village.
Luke stood.
He didn't say a word—he never needed to.
Instead, he tapped his app once to share the visual trail to the dwarves' shared lenses, nodded once to Rindle, and started walking.
Because monsters could wait.
But stolen children could not.