Chapter 1: Vengeance Sung Into Being

  I awoke to the scent of blood and steel.

  The ground beneath me pulsed—stone, wet and warm, like the inside of a living thing. My fingertips brushed the cracks in the floor, jagged and faintly glowing red. For a breathless moment, I thought I'd returned to a battlefield. But there was no smoke above, no sky burning in flame—only a vaulted cavern of obsidian and bone, lit by firelight… and something far more sinister.

  Then the screams came—raw, desperate, echoing across the chamber.

  Not far away, a small group of strangers stood back to back, weapons drawn, surrounded by snarling green creatures. Goblins. Dozens—no, hundreds of them. They clutched jagged blades, hollow eyes gleaming with savage hunger. Panic surged through the air like a fever, and one of the strangers yelled, "We're not gonna make it!"

  My body trembled as I tried to rise—young, unfamiliar, fragile. I winced, not from pain, but from a strange, drifting weightlessness. My last memory was a war drenched in divine fire—a name lost between lifetimes, a legacy drowned in silence.

  But beside me, a familiar presence stirred.

  "Pahu," I whispered.

  The small gourd drum beside me shivered. A soft tap echoed from its hollow belly—like a heartbeat.

  Thump.

  Thump.

  He had made it, too.

  Too weak to dance—my strength still returning—I could offer only the barest echo of my craft.

  With a groan, I raised my hands in a prayer-like gesture, eyes fluttering shut. The air stirred, faint and warm, as if someone unseen leaned close to whisper in my ear. This was the way of the summoner—the ancient rhythm of invocation.

  To listen for the voice beyond the veil. To shape its echo into song. To invite that which lies unseen.

  And so, with barely more than breath, I sang.

  Pahu answered in kind—soft thumps, guiding my tempo as ancient words fell from trembling lips:

  Dor'mak vahl, krethu drom'naar, Fennar’kai zhul, nox'tar khaar! Grul meh'nak, val'eth renn, Sah vohn kin, nar gol'den. Man'kai ven, grul’kai thren, Zar'du zhen, kar'val en! Ven'thra ven, klaar

  [Translation]

  Stomp the ground, feel the war-drum beat, Fangs to the sky, not in retreat! Green I am, but heart beats red, I fight for kin, not gold or bread. Human hand, goblin claw, Side by Side, we break the law! Blood for blood, blade for blade— This oath I made, I won't let fade.

  The final note trembled in the air like a ripple across still water. Pahu glowed faintly, carved wood pulsing with soft white light. The rhythm deepened—faster, louder—until a golden circle flared before me, burning against the bloodstained floor. Runes spiraled outward like a sacred spearhead.

  From that spiral, a figure rose.

  Small. Hunched. Wreathed in flickering flame.

  A goblin—but not like the others.

  His form shimmered with spectral green fire, translucent and ethereal. Scarred leather armor clung to his thin frame, mended with scraps bearing a faded human sigil. His eyes burned ghostly blue, old beyond his youthful face. Two tusks jutted from his underbite—one cracked, the other plated in gold. Across his back, a chipped longsword hung—too large for him but held with purpose.

  The summoned goblin turned toward the horde, spectral flames flickering wildly around him—his spirit pulsing with righteous fury.

  "I am Rukk, champion of the Green Flame Tribe—oath sworn to the human Mael… the one you murdered!"

  Then he charged.

  Rukk fought like a storm unbottled—wild and relentless. His blade carved wide arcs of fire and steel; each swings a scream, each step a reckoning. He was not graceful—he did not need to be. His style was all momentum, brutal swings spun by the weight of his own body.

  The goblins faltered—confused, hesitating, unsure whether to scream or cheer.

  That moment of doubt cost them dearly.

  Rukk barreled forward, tearing through the front line, leaving burning footprints and scattered limbs in his wake. When one goblin pierced his side, he roared and hurled the creature into his blade.

  The strangers—the hunters—watched in awe.

  One of them, a girl with spiked gloves, finally shouted, "He's clearing a path! Push now!"

  Snapped from their stupor, the others surged forward behind Rukk's fury. Arrows flew, steel sang, and spells cracked the air. The tide began to turn—painfully, slowly—but it turned.

  Rukk flickered—his spirit waning. Bloodless light streamed from his wounds. Three goblins leaped upon him, and still, he rose—unleashing a blast of inner flame to scatter them.

  Then the chieftain stepped forward—towering in jagged bone armor, a wicked axe gripped in both hands.

  "Traitor," he snarled.

  Rukk coughed blood, fire flickering from his wounds. "FOR MAEL!"

  With the last of his strength, Rukk launched himself forward like a missile. The blade quickly pierced through the goblin chieftain with a hole through his chest and part of his stomach while Rukk stood on the other Side. They were silent before the chieftain dropped his axe and fell flat on his back, followed by Rukk.

  His form unraveled—green light scattering into the air like fading embers. Silence followed. Then panic.

  Leaderless, the horde broke and scattered into the dark.

  I gasped for air and collapsed to my knees. The hunters turned to me in surprise.

  "That must've been the summoner who helped us," someone said. The girl who led them rushed over, concern in her eyes.

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  "Whatever the case, get the goblin chieftain's crystal and the left ears from the rest. We're leaving!" she commanded.

  The others obeyed. She remained behind, motioning for their mage to return.

  "Where's your group?" she asked.

  But I couldn't answer. The energy used to summon Rukk had drained me, so darkness claimed me.

  The girl from the dungeon stepped in, her silhouette framed by the doorway. Her appearance had changed—civilian clothes now—but the strength in her posture was the same.

  I smiled weakly.

  "You gave me a scare, stranger," she said, settling into the chair beside me.

  "I'm glad you're safe," I murmured, eyes heavy. "And your comrades?"

  She nodded, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "Alive. All thanks to you." Then her smile faded. "I don't have much time. Some people are coming to talk with you. Family… unfortunately. But for now—my name is Camilla... but you can call me Cami."

  "My name is Ola," I said, chuckling softly as I opened one eye. Camila rose, bowed her head in gratitude, and then met my gaze again.

  "Till next time."

  She turned and left.

  The door opened again, admitting a man in a tailored black suit. His voice was flat—practiced, cold—jade-green eyes behind thin glasses locked onto me with unnerving intensity.

  "Firstly, I must thank you on behalf of my father for saving his daughter's life."

  I said nothing—just nodded.

  "But I'm also here to ask how a vagabond like you managed to enter a monitored dungeon. Alone. Wounded. Unseen by any of the military scouts stationed outside."

  His tone dropped—colder, sharper now.

  I blinked slowly. "I doubt you would believe me," I said with a tired smile. "You speak gratitude like it's a script… and greet a savior with suspicion."

  The man stared at me, then sighed. With a quick turn, he made for the door—but paused, pointing at me as the temperature in the room dropped. Ice crept along the walls. I could see my breath.

  Still, I met his gaze with pity.

  Annoyed, the man lowered his hand. The cold receded.

  "We will question you once you're in better health."

  He left.

  Pahu shimmered into view, soft thumps echoing from the little gourd drum's body. I chuckled.

  "No. We would lose, my friend… I don't know what's going on. Nor why… but I can no longer hear the voice of Mana like before. It is as if her voice was silenced," I whispered, looking out the window before slowly falling asleep.

  The morning light drifted lazily through the tall windowpanes, casting soft golden lines across the hospital floor. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, but it couldn't mask the distant sound of footsteps.

  I sat upright in my hospital bed, my breathing calm, the thin blanket pooled around my waist. Pahu rested on the table beside me, silent but warm. There was peace here—but also tension. It was as if the world held its breath, waiting for a song to return.

  Then the knock came. Gentle. Unrushed.

  The door creaked open, and Camila stepped in.

  She wore a soft hoodie, black leggings, and scuffed combat boots—no armor, no gloves. Not a hunter today. Just Camila.

  "I hope I'm not intruding," she said.

  "You are not," I replied.

  Camila entered, letting the door close behind her with a quiet click. She sat by my bedside and sighed—shoulders relaxed.

  "I wanted to stop by yesterday," she said. "But with my brother lurking, I figured it wasn't the time for a relaxing chat."

  I tilted my head. "You have many questions?"

  "Yea. A lot," Cami admitted with a nervous chuckle that I joined in. "Who are you?"

  I blinked at the question but smiled and sighed softly.

  "My full name is Ola Pale... which means life to be free..." I introduced, bowing my head slightly. "... a summoner."

  Cami smiled at the introduction and nodded before raising her hand over her chest.

  "I will fully introduce myself then... my name is Camilla Reyes, E-rank Hunter for now, and granddaughter of the Monarch of the fist... and daughter of the Hunter Association of Hawaii..." Cami said with slight disdain while turning away from me.

  I blinked at her mood change before she looked back toward me with a soft smile.

  "So… first question. Why aren't you in the Hunter Association system?"

  I blinked, genuinely confused. "System?"

  This caused Cami to raise a brow as if I were stupid.

  "You don't have to play coy, Ola... are you a legal Hunter?" Cami tried to simplify her previous question while leaning forward.

  "I do not... understand your questions..." I admitted with a sad expression.

  Cami blinked before hanging her head down in defeat. After a few seconds of silence, she raised her head with determination and a soft smile.

  "So… illegal then," Cami muttered, sitting back in her chair. "Guess my father wants to repay you for saving my life. One idea? You take the Hunter Exam. Get licensed. Get legal."

  I blinked before scratching the back of my head.

  "Alright, so... aside from that pointless discussion... how old are you, Ola?" Cami asked, tilting her head.

  I paused, then looked to Pahu, straightened suddenly, thumping once—proud and loud.

  Cami yelped and, on instinct, slammed a fist into the drum. It hit the wall with a thunk.

  Pahu groaned weakly before going still.

  I laughed softly.

  On the other hand, Cami was beginning to go red with embarrassment before turning her attention to me.

  "Was that your summons?" Cami asked with a shaky voice, earning a nod from me. "And you just... let the thing roam freely?"

  My laughter faded at the comment as I stared at her.

  "Thing? He's my companion... one who has been part of my family for eons..." I stated before tilting my head. "Is that strange?"

  Cami leaned forward, elbows on knees, brows furrowed.

  "That goblin… the one in the dungeon. He was yours, too, right?"

  I nodded. "His name was Rukk. He had a story left to finish… I gave him the voice to tell it."

  Cami tilted her head. "Okay, I don't know where you trained or what kind of system you use, but that's not how summoning works here. Not even close."

  She glanced toward the wall where Pahu lay slumped like a thrown pillow. "Most summoners don't let their spirits wander unless they show off or fight. Even intelligent ones get limits—leashes. You don't just let them talk freely."

  I blinked. "Why?"

  "Well… because they're dangerous," she said bluntly. "They're tools. Magic contracts, spirit cores—whatever kind of binding they use, it's to keep the summon from going rogue. You either dominate them or earn their loyalty through strength. That's just standard practice."

  My gaze darkened—not with anger, but with grief. "That is not… our way."

  Cami raised a brow. "Our?"

  I took a moment, pressing a hand gently over Pahu's dented form. The drum let out a groggy thump in reply.

  "Where I come from… we don't summon to control," I said softly. "We summon to remember. To honor."

  I placed a hand gently on Pahu's battered form.

  "They are not tools. They are companions. Elders. Spirits of the land, the sea, and the wind. We sing for them. Dance for them. Not to command—only to invite."

  Cami's expression shifted—uncertainty, then curiosity.

  "We were raised knowing the names of the winds and the rhythms of rain," I continued. "To treat a summon as a slave… is to dishonor not only them but your ancestors."

  Silence followed. The tension had softened, replaced by something more thoughtful.

  Cami let out a low whistle, rubbing her neck. "Okay… okay, so you're not from around here." She gave a small chuckle. "What year do you think it is, anyway?"

  I tilted my head. "Year…?"

  I looked toward the window, lifting my hand to measure the sun. "It is the Era of Third Flame—the ninth cycle since the Falling of Stars. The Red Tides had just calmed. The Moon Spirits had begun their harvest dances again."

  Cami's mouth dropped a little. "The what now?"

  I shrugged. "Is… that not your way of counting time?"

  "Ola… it's 2049."

  Silence fell. Deeper than before.

  My lips parted, but no words came. I looked out the window—cars humming below, the buzz of distant drones, glowing advertisements in languages I couldn't read.

  My shoulders slumped slightly. "…This is not my home," I whispered. "It is… somewhere else."

  Cami sat back, my realization sinking into her, too.

  "I was… sent forward," I said finally. "Launched like a prayer into the wind, into time, by those who still believed. My people were… erased. Their songs, their spirits… taken by something I could not stop."

  I turned to her, a shadow in my eyes despite the softness of my voice. "I was the last one left to remember the melody."

  Cami didn't speak. She couldn't—not at first. The world she knew, for all its cold systems and classifications, had never made space for someone like me. Yet, here I was, sitting in a hospital gown, speaking with the reverence of a lost priest from another age.

  Finally, she asked, gentler now, "Where were you from, Ola?"

  I looked up, ocean-blue eyes glowing faintly in the morning light. "From a place where all who breathe share the sun and moon... a place filled with song and dance. Unity and freedom."

  Camila sat quietly. For once, no words came, but then she smiled faintly.

  "Well… welcome to Honolulu. It's not exactly a land of lullabies. But with you here? Maybe that'll change."

  I smiled faintly.

  "I would like that."

  ///to be continued...