The lingering scream resonated for a few more moments, then the night air within Rockenfall grew eerily silent. Not even an insect dared make a sound. Ansel slowly trekked through the village paths, trying to see clearly in the darkness. If not for the slight glow that Kortak and the undead archers gave off, Ansel would’ve been essentially blind.

  If only I had a skill that gave me night vision or something…

  “Kortak, can you see anything?”

  The orc shook his head, seemingly also unable to see clearly in the darkness. They pushed forward, utilizing the moonlight above as they made their way over to where the scream had come from.

  “Keep quiet,” Ansel whispered. “If we can, we need to try and surprise the thing.” They crept forward, and that’s when the necromancer heard a sound. He turned, then ran face-first into a rock wall.

  Or, rather, a bone wall.

  “Orion!” Ansel hissed, fighting the urge to scream, then he bitterly added, “I thought you were napping.”

  “Well, I still won’t assist you, but I couldn’t bypass the chance to watch you flail and die.”

  “Uh-huh,” Ansel turned, ignoring the massive skeleton now following behind them. “I don’t need you anyway.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  They continued along in silence, Ansel’s eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Finally, after what seemed like an eon in nothingness, a sharp crack startled the party. Ansel’s eyes darted around his surroundings before finally settling on a young girl, maybe eight at most, slowly walking towards him. “Elizabeth?” He asked, remembering the name that Theo had said.

  The girl’s eyes lit up, and she hurriedly ran over. Ansel saw a stream of blood dripping from the girl’s arm, which she clutched across her chest. The boy ushered the girl to stand next to Orion, giving the skeleton a stern look. Orion reluctantly obliged, taking the girl in his arms.

  A grizzly snarl forced Ansel to turn his head. A monster, a bit shorter than Kortak, stepped into the open. He appeared like a humanoid bear and wolf hybrid, but with two razor-sharp tusks poking out of his jaw. He had a light grayish coat with blue markings painted across his torso and legs. He crouched down slightly, and Ansel could make out the beast's claws shining under the moonlight. The werebeast almost seemed to hesitate for a split second when it saw the child behind Orion, but the creature's eyes eventually narrowed with a bloodthirsty rage, and Ansel braced himself for battle.

  This is a D-Rank quest, so this thing’s probably at least as strong as Kortak was…

  “Kortak, test him out. Let’s see what he can do first, so don’t use your skill yet.”

  Kortak nodded, lifting his battle axe and going on the offensive. He closed the gap in an instant, swinging with fury.

  The werebeast howled.

  His claws flashed in a blinding swipe. Metal ground against the predator's natural weapons as Kortak stumbled backwards.

  A second strike sent the orc flying.

  This might be harder than expected.

  [Blood Howl]

  The werebeast began to glow with an ominous red aura. He lunged, cutting deep into Kortak’s decaying flesh and sprouting blood like a geyser of red. The undead grunted, reaching out and grasping the beast's arm. The werebeast tugged, but Kortak was stronger than expected, rooted to the ground like a tree.

  “Now!” Ansel shouted. Two arrows whistled through the air, impaling the monster's flesh and drawing a splattering of blood. A necromancer should probably avoid getting in close range, so we’ll see if my summons can deal with this thing.

  The werebeast roared in pain, then spun away, releasing itself from Kortak’s grip. He slipped into the night, disappearing from view for a moment as Ansel struggled to trace the monster's outline. “Kortak, come closer, we need to take this thing on together.”

  The werebeast struck again, cleanly decapitating the head of one of the orc archers. It fell to the ground, sapping Ansel’s mana as it slowly regenerated.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  I’m starting to run low. We need to finish this quickly…

  “Kortak!”

  [Call of the Horde]

  Six undead orcs, snarling and vicious.

  A decaying arm flew into the night with a sickening squelch of flesh against claw.

  The werebeast darted between falling swords, dodging blow after blow as orcs began to fall. Ansel ran forward and slashed with his dagger, gritting his teeth as he shifted left, then right, barely keeping up with the creature's strikes. A claw reached through the air, inches away from the boy's head.

  Kortak's axe deflected the blow with a ringing clang.

  Each strike from the werebeast, even if aimed at one of the boy's undead, felt like an arrow through the knee as his mana pool dwindled. Sweat dripped from his forehead, each of his movements growing sluggish as the fight dragged on.

  Just a little more.

  The boy ducked. A claw soared overhead, grazing his loose brown hair. He plunged his dagger into the creature's thigh, causing it to kneel. In a last-ditch effort, the monster lunged, biting with tremendous force, forcing Ansel to leave the dagger embedded in the beast's leg as he jumped back.

  The numerous undead worked in tandem, slowly wearing down the werebeast. One arm was pinned beneath two orcs, while another grasped the creature's leg. Kortak readied to deliver the final blow, raising his axe with killing intent.

  But a voice froze Ansel in his tracks.

  “W-Wait,” the werebeast croaked, shielding itself with one arm.

  “It can talk?” Ansel asked aloud, simultaneously signaling Kortak to stop. “I thought only high-level monsters or dungeon bosses could speak. This should just be a normal creature, and this is only a D-Rank quest, so it can’t be very high level…”

  “My… Son…” the monster muttered, falling limp.

  Son?

  “Ansel! Ansel!” A voice called out, and the necromancer turned to see Theo sprinting towards them. On the horizon, the sun had begun to rise, the familiar rays of golden light peeking over the mountains in the distance. “You need to stop!”

  “What?”

  Theo came to a halt, gasping for breath, his gaze landing squarely on the werebeast lying on the floor, who was now slowly losing his fur.

  Ansel’s father had taught him that werebeasts came in two distinct forms. One was the type that the necromancer thought he had been fighting, which was a pure beast with nothing but killing intent in its mind. The second were the half-humans, who transform during the night, and could control their transformations to a degree. Of course, such creatures were extremely rare, and only a certain type of curse could create one, or so his father said.

  But, right before his eyes, Ansel watched as the werebeast he had been fighting only moments ago transformed into the shape of a human.

  “Dad,” Theo cried out between sobs. “It’s you,” he rushed forward as the undead backed away, grabbing the now human werebeast in a tight hug.

  The man, who seemed to be the once thought-dead village chief, coughed, glancing at the wound in his thigh where Ansel’s dagger was still embedded, then began to cry tears of agony. “I’m sorry, son, but this has to be done.”

  “What?” Theo yelped in confusion, but it was already too late.

  “I can’t live with myself… after all the people I’ve killed. I can’t…”

  The man grabbed the dagger, placing it squarely above his chest. He hesitated for only a moment, staring deep into his son's eyes.

  He plunged the weapon straight into his own heart.

  His eyes rolled back into his head as he fell to the ground, lifeless and unmoving.

  The only sounds that could be heard in all of Rockenfall were the horrified screams of the orphaned village chief.

  “There, there,” a woman comforted, holding the sobbing boy in her arms. They had returned to the village hall, and all of the residents, atleast, those who survived, were in attendance.

  “This… whole… time…” Theo gasped between sobs. “He–he never came into the houses because he must’ve been resisting the curse!” Theo continued. “I know it! He was strong! He wouldn’t kill anyone on purpose, so why? Why?!”

  Ansel looked down, feeling tremendously guilty, even though he himself hadn’t been the one to deliver the final blow. I should’ve paid more attention; if I remembered everything my father had taught me, maybe I could’ve known…

  “Still think you’re a hero?” Orion asked, causing Ansel to whirl around in anger.

  “You could’ve helped!” He roared. “As annoying as you are, you’re strong enough to beat him without causing any real damage! But since you wanted to mope around like a child, he’s dead!” Ansel expected the skeleton to argue, probably telling the boy he was just too weak or something along those lines, but Orion stayed silent, simply staring back behind his expressionless mask.

  “Is that all you have to give? Silence?” Ansel demanded, but his tone was losing conviction as the exhaustion from the battle caught up to him. He sat, burying his head in his hands.

  “I will elect to ignore your earlier insolence,” Orion began, his tone somehow softer than expected. “But do not presume that my involvement would’ve changed anything. If it were up to me, the monster would’ve perished in a single blow.”

  “What’s your point?” Ansel asked bitterly.

  Orion sighed, then gingerly laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Being a hero isn’t everything it's made out to be.” He looked down, meeting Ansel’s teary-eyed gaze. “Being a hero involves making choices, and as a result of those choices, people will die.”

  The boy clenched his jaw in frustration, but he knew, somewhere deep inside, there was truth to the former hero’s words.

  “I have only one question for you, Ansel,” Orion continued. “Are you capable of being the hand that slaughters the few, so that you may save the many?”