Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Deep in the forests of Albion lay a small town named Oakvale, unchanged by time and untouched by the sword. Here lived a boy and his family—a boy who dreamed of greatness and of becoming a hero. His name was Jonah, but everyone called him Chicken Chaser because of his frequent mishaps with chickens. He had no idea that his life was about to change forever.

"Oh, c'mon, boy! Don't tell me er' sleepin' again?" The young brunette boy stretched his arms into the air, yawning as the warmth of the sun's rays hit his face.

"You need to find your sister! She's out playing by the Barrow Fields gate." Still in a confused daze, Jonah looked up at his dad, Brom, who was now blocking the warm sun. Although his father wasn't a hero like his mother, Jonah still looked up to him.

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot?" Oh. Right. The boy stretched like a cat. It's Theresa's birthday. She'd kill him if he forgot it again. He didn't have a gift.

"I'm not bailing you out this time!" Chicken Chaser sighed and looked down at his feet. He needed new boots.

"Tell you what. For every good deed you do, I'll give you a gold piece. That should be enough to get her a present. How 'bout it?" The boy frantically nodded. "Right then. Start moving and stay out of trouble!" "And remember, your mother is coming home today, so wash up!" he yelled after Chicken Chaser, who was running off into town. Brom sighed at the sight of the boy's too-small shirt and ratty gloves before turning inside.

"I can't believe I fell asleep outside again" The boy sighed to himself. He took a look around, taking in the sight of Oakvale. He breathed in deeply, smelling the salty ocean air. Although Oakvale was just a small town on the coast of Albion, it was still his home.

As he walked to the town square, he didn't notice his neighbor, Mia, coming around a corner. It's always something with her. They ran into each other, causing little Mia to fall to the ground. She instantly got back up, dusting off her raggedy dress.

"Can you please help me?" she whined, tears in her eyes.

"Er, what is it?" Chicken chaser said awkwardly, backing away.

"It's Rosie. I've lost her, and I can't remember where. Please help me!"

Remembering what his dad had said, he decided to keep an eye out for the little girl's stuffed bear. "Er- sure. I'll tell you if I find it."

"Oh, thank you, mister! She's a lovely little bear with a blue patch on her back," she exclaimed happily.

Mister? Hpe thought as he continued walking. But he was stopped again when he heard whispering and giggling coming from around a corner. He peeked over and saw a short, balding man and a young woman kissing.

"Mr. Henderson?" he blurted out loud. The man quickly turned around, his face growing beet red. He backed away from the woman.

"O-oh! Little Chicken Chaser, hehe... I've never even met this woman! Who is she?! Er- right?" he turned toward the woman. The woman, also red-faced, threw her hands in the air and ran off.

"Ugh," the man sighed, palming his face and dragging his hand down. "Look, sonny, just—don't tell anyone about this, alright? My wife's at home with our little ones, and I'm supposed to be working". He looked at Chicken Chaser, as if expecting him to agree. "But a man should be entitled to do what he likes, don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah, sure..." Chicken Chaser responded, just trying to get out of the situation.

"Right. Just don't tell my wife. She can't find out about this. Now be a good boy and run along."

Eager to escape the awkward situation, Chicken chaser quickly got back onto the path that led into town. Finally reaching his destination, he headed toward the trader to browse for birthday gift options.

"Hey, Chicken Chaser!" he heard a voice call. Ugh, what now? He jogged over to the woman standing on her porch with a baby on her hip. Mrs. Henderson.

"I don't suppose you've seen my filthy lay-about husband of mine," she said, aggressively bouncing the baby. "Probably off with some other woman, I don't doubt."

Well, this is awkward. He told the woman the truth about her husband and watched as she gave the baby to her older son and frantically put her shoes on.

"I can't believe it. I run his house, bring up his children, and this is how he repays me? Thanks for telling me, dear," she said before storming off.

Wow. He and the older son exchanged glances before he headed for the traveling merchant ahead.

"Ahh, yes! Only the finest!" the trader said with a strong accent, waving a coin purse around. Chicken Chaser jogged over to him.

"Hmm... I can tell just what you're looking for. May I offer you this?" He pulled out a yellow box wrapped with a red ribbon from his cart labeled 'chocolate'. "The best chocolate around, perfect for birthdays," he said with a wink. "Guaranteed to put a smile on any sister's face. Only three gold pieces."

Three gold pieces. He could do that. "Hold on to that for me, will you? I'll come back with the money later."

"Very well, hurry before I eat them myself!" the trader said, putting the neatly wrapped box back on the shelf. 'Murgo the traveling trader.' Hm.

I guess I'll see if anyone needs help with anything, he thought, looking around the small village surrounded by a beautiful sparkling ocean. As if right on cue, he heard a squeaky voice yell, "Help! Someone, please!" He turned to where the sound was coming from, seeing a little boy being held up by the collar of his shirt by a much older-looking boy.

"Oi, scram! This ain't none of your business, you hear?" This wasn't just any boy; this was his neighbor, Ben.

"What's the point of pickin' on him? He's just a kid." Chicken Chaser called out.

"Why don't you leave this to us," the older boy spat. "C'mon, do something!" Ben squeaked. The teen held Ben up higher and punched him in the stomach. Chicken Chaser had seen enough. He walked toward the teen, grabbed him, and punched him square in the face. The teen instantly dropped Ben and brought his hands to his nose, which was gushing blood.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave him alone. Just please don't hit me again!" the bully cried while running off. "And take your stupid bear back!" Meanwhile, Ben started jumping up and down, cheering.

"Nanny nanny boo boo," he said, sticking his tongue out at the bully.

"Are you alright?" Chicken Chaser asked, gesturing to Ben's stomach.

"Course I'm alright! You got Rosie back! And scared off that bully, probably for good after seeing the look on his face. You really did him good," Ben said, picking up the bear lying on the ground. Missing an eye and lots of stuffing, looking rather sad, this was definitely Mia's bear. "Alright then, I'll give this back to Mia. You get home safely, okay?"

"Course, mister! Thank you again," Ben said, running off.

What's with the 'mister' today? He thought to himself while brushing the dust off the bear.

Right! That's three good deeds down! Dad should give me enough money to buy Theresa's gift. Oh right, Mia. He spotted her next to the big tree in the middle of the town while walking back to his house.

"Hey, Mia! Here you go," he said, handing her the bear.

"You found Rosie! Thank you so much! Come on, Rosie, let's change your stuffing," she said, hugging the bear tightly.

With his good deeds done, the boy hurried up the hill towards his home. He got distracted by some commotion behind a house—the same house Mr. Henderson was behind! I have to see this, he thought, peeking behind the wall like before.

"YOU FILTHY SWINE!" Mrs. Henderson yelled.

"N-no! You've got it wrong, I swear!"

"DON'T INSULT ME ANYMORE. MY MOTHER WAS RIGHT ABOUT YOU."

"Please, my dear, I can explain everything," Mr. Henderson said, trying to reason with the angry woman.

"IF YOU THINK I'M GONNA COOK AND CLEAN WHILE YOU'RE OUT AND ABOUT WITH OTHER WOMEN, THEN YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING. WHO IS SHE ANYWAY? SOME TART FROM THE VILLAGE? YOUNGER THAN ME, IS SHE? I'LL CUT THEM RIGHT OFF."

Thinking he had seen enough, Chicken Chaser started towards his house again. Spotting his father outside, he told him everything that had happened.

"Yes, yes, I've heard good things about you, son. I'm proud of you," Brom said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Here's your reward." He handed his son a handful of coins.

Excitedly, Chicken Chaser ran back into town, his old boots barely keeping up with him. You'd think he'd be tired of running by now.

He found the trader with the strange mustache. "Ah, hello, lad. You're lucky I've still got these treats," the trader said, noticing the money bag in Jonah's hand. Chicken Chaser grabbed three coins out of the bag, shoved the now lighter bag into his pocket and quickly asked for the chocolate.

"Yes, yes, here you go young sir. Wish your sister a happy birthday for me, won't you?" 'Murgo' the trader said handing him the wrapped box.

The boy nodded, grabbing the box. Now that he finally has Theresa's gift, its time to find her. His dad said she was playing in the Top field, next to barrow fields entrance.

Of course the gate to barrow fields was on the other side of town. He raced with himself till he finally got there. Panting, he grabbed the edge of a fence. Next to the entrance to Barrow fields, the was a cullis gate. It was a blue portal like thing that heros used to get around the world. And on the other side was a little farm with a scarecrow in the middle. And also a girl with ginger pigtails dancing around, not much older than Chicken chaser.

He ran to her waving. "Hello little brother!" She said turning around.
"I'm sorry if I woke you up last night. It was another one of my dreams. I was standing in this field...then something happened"

"Like what?" The boy replied.

"..I cant remember, Nevermind that though, I hope you haven't forgotten what day it is. Like you did last year."

Chicken chasers ears started heating up. "Of course not!"

He shoved the box into her hands. She reluctantly tugs on the red ribbon. She sighs.

"I knew you were gonna bring me chocolates. Its just like my dream".

"Oh...sorry?" Chicken chaser doesn't know what to say.

"Its alright. come on, let's go home. Mother will be back for my party any minute now!" She says with a smile.

Chicken chaser nods as they begin to walk towards the fence. Suddenly Theresa stops, and a worried look grows onto her face. Chicken chaser looks back at her worryingly.

"Wait! Somethings wrong..."

Right after he said that, a farmer burst through the gate.

"BANDITS!" He screamed. Every one looked at him confused. "EVERYONE RU-" The man's sentence cut in half as an arrow went through his head, splattering blood everywhere.

"Haha! Got one!"

All of a sudden everyone started screaming and running around as bandits wielding torches and swords flooded in from the barrows field gate.

"Its really happening.... They're here! You've got to hide!" Theresa said grabbing his hand.

She ran back towards the woods and they hopped the fence together.

She put a finger to her little brothers lips. "Stay here! I'm gonna go get father!"

To scared to say anything, Chicken chaser stayed low to the ground, watching as his entire village was destroyed. He looked through the cracks of the fence to see a woman get stabbed through the stomach, blood spurting out her mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Oh Avo! Please, please let Theresa and father be okay! He couldn't bear to watch as the bandits began to burn down the village, killing more people. He laid his head down in his lap and began to sob quietly.

What he guessed was a couple of hours had passed, and things had quieted down, the only noise a being the flickering flames, and Theresa still isn't back with their father. He needed to look for them himself.

After peeking through the fence to make sure no one was there, he darted towards his home. The smoke burned his eyes and dead bodies littered the ground, but he continued on, covering his mouth with his shirts. The screen of black smoke and tears in his eyes made it hard to see, which made him trip up the hill, ripping a hole in his pants. He continued running towards his house and burts through the door.

"THERESA? FATHER?" He screamed looking around inside.

He noticed a body laying on the floor and ran to it.

"Jonah? Is that you?" He was alive! "Y-yes father... its me!" The boy said in-between sobs. "Where's Theresa?" Brom asked horsely. "I-I don't know...".

The noise they were making caused a lingering bandit to run in. Shooting an arrow at the two on the ground, he missed Chicken chaser and shot Brom. Chicken chaser turned his head towards the bandit and closed his eyes, readying himself for what was about to come.

But before the bandit shot him, a bright blue light appeared. He heard lightning cracks through the air and something fall to the ground. He opened his eyes. Before him was a strange man with white hair and blue lines all over his face. He grabbed the boys hand and pulled him up.

"Come on, we must leave. Its not safe here".
"B-but.. my father!" The boy said pulling his hand away.
"He's dead. They're all dead. You don't want to join them do you?"

The boy looked back at his father with a traumatized expression on him face.

"Then give me your hand".

He hesitantly put his hand on the man's hand. A second later, a blue aura appeared around them, like the blue light from before. All of a sudden they were gone. Away from the fire, they dead bodies, the bandits. Now the boy and the man were on a path road in a dark forest.

His thoughts were interrupted by something coming up his throat. He hunched over and began throwing up. He hadn't realized how nauseous he had been till now.

"Hmmm... I thought you would have a stronger stomach than that. Come on". The man said grabbing him. "Urgh! Get off me!" Chicken chaser said panting, trying to push him away. The man scoffed. "Save your energy boy. It's not me you want to fight. You might not realize it, but I just saved your life. There's nothing left for you in Oakvale. If you'd stayed you'd be as dead as the rest of them. Come on" The tall man said, not looking back to see if the boys following.

He started down the path and looked back at Chicken chaser.

"Well?"

He reluctantly walked towards the man, still shaking from the events before. He struggled to keep up with him. He was about to ask who he was, but was interrupted by-

"My name is Maze, and I am the lead of the Guild of Heros. "No doubt you've heard of me."

He has hadn't but okay... he had heard of the guild of heros though. He's always wanted to be one, a hero, like his mother.

"You'll find no where safer in all of Albion. Nor a better place to call your new home". New home? "And if its vengeance you want, you'll need the training only we can offer".

Chapter Text

Chicken Chaser didn't know what to think. His mind was still racing from what had occurred not more than 30 minutes ago. His village, everything he had ever known, was gone. His friends and family, dead. His life was over. But maybe not.

He had been rescued just before a bandit killed him by a strange man named Maze, with piercing blue eyes and glowing veins. Maze had promised him a new home, a new life, with the Guild of Heroes, an academy used to train the gifted sons and daughters of Albion into heros.

As they walked, the trees began to thin, and soon they emerged into a clearing. There, nestled against the side of a hill, stood a grand building, its stone walls covered in ivy. Lights glowed warmly from its many windows, and Chicken Chaser could hear the faint sounds of laughter and conversation coming from inside.

"Here we are," Maze declared as they approached the dome-like gate with points coming off the walls. "I will introduce you to the Guild Master and... explain your 'situation' to him."

"Guild Master?" the boy asked, confused.

"Yes, he will be your guide from now on." Chicken Chaser felt a bit relieved. He was glad this rash, moody man walking beside him wouldn't be his instructor.

Maze opened the gate to reveal a large courtyard, with four tombs creating a plus sign in the middle. To their left was what looked like an archery range, with scarecrows as targets. He didn't have much time to look around, though, as the boy was struggling to keep up with the tall man's fast strides. They continued and wound their way through different corridors until they arrived in a large circular room with staircases on either side and a circular map in the middle.

"I have a new student for you, Jonah," Maze exclaimed, drawing the boy's attention to an old man with an 'S' on his forehead. This must be him, he thought.

The man looked down at the disheveled messy haired boy. He was missing one of his front teeth.

Maze and the Guild Master exchanged glances.

"Put him in the dorm upstairs, with the new girl" Maze demanded. The old man nodded and began to escort him up one of the staircases. "You don't look much like hero material to me, but Maze knows what's best, I suppose," he said, eyeing the scrawny boy.

"You'll be sharing this room with Whisper, our newest pupil. Er—besides you, of course."

Chicken Chaser flattened out the wrinkles on the red sheet before sitting down on his new bed.

"She's not here now, but you'll meet her in the morning."

Chicken Chaser didn't say anything in return, he just stared up at the man with his wide, golden brown eyes.

The Guild Master nodded his head before closing the door behind him. He felt his eyes begin to wetten and his vision get blurry. He put his face in his hands and sobbed for what seemed like hours. He eventually stopped and uncovered his face to wipe his eyes. He brought his gloved hand across his face and smeared something onto him. Huh? He opened his eyes and looked down to see black on his glove. Ash?

All of a sudden he was back in Oakvale, in the top fields. He couldn't even hear his own thoughts over the repeated screams and yelling. He looked over to see a bandit slitting Theresa's throat, then dropping her to the ground. He held out his hand towards them and tried to scream, but nothing came out. The bandit then charged towards him, with a knife in hand. This was it. This was the end. There was no Maze, no Guild of Heroes, no warm bed. He gasped and sat up, sweat-drenched, confused.

"Wow, you are finally awake!" He heard a girl with a foreign accent belt out.

He had been awakened from his night terror by a girl about his age, with dark skin and a blue headband. She stood above him, hands on her hip. "You must be my new roommate! Hmmm... shorter than I expected" she looked him up and down. Chicken Chaser, still trying to process what just happened, looked around the room and sighed. It was just a dream... "Don't talk much, do you? My name's Whisper. Been here for about a month now. Had the room to myself 'til now, but that's alright." He blinked. Once, then twice. "You know you talk in your sleep? Sounded like a bad nightmare." He stayed quiet. The weird girl finally began to give him some space, just to say, "The Guild Master is waiting for you in the map room, by the way, you better hurry." Thanks for waking me up sooner...

He put his shoes on and walked down the stairs, retracing his steps from yesterday. He noticed there were several rooms with walls laced with bookshelves from floor to ceiling as he made his way through the corridors. He made it back to the circular room only to find Whisper already down there. Wha-? "Hmm.. looks like the Guild Master got tired of waiting for you." She said with a slight giggle

"Do you know where he is?" he asked, finally speaking up, voice raspy and quiet.

"He's probably at the training grounds across the river. Follow me!"

He wasn't sure if he wanted to, but he didn't want to wander around aimlessly. She began walking along a blue carpet that led out to the courtyard from yesterday, seeing the archery range and tombs. Now that it was day, he could see much more stuff. There were also plenty of other students, as well as teachers, giving them puzzled looks.

He continued to follow Whisper around the yard, listening to her chatting about nonsense, until they found the old man from last night waiting outside of a fenced circle with another one of those scarecrow dummies in the middle.

"Here he is. I told you." Whisper said looking back at him, slightly squinting her eyes from the bright sun above them.

"Ah, yes, there you are," the Guild Master said, smiling slightly. "I didn't want to wake you." He then gestured to the dummy in the fenced-in area. "I just wanted to see what you're capable of. Go on then, lad. Step in the circle."

The boy nervously stepped in through the gate as Whisper and the Guild Master watched. "Now then, I want you to hit that dummy as hard as you can." That seemed rather simple. He threw a punch towards the dummy with his right arm, making it move slightly. He looked back to see if that satisfied the old man. He still had the same expression on his face.

"Didn't make much of an impact there, did you? Here, try it with this," he said, throwing him a stick.

The boy caught it and got a good grip on it. He got in a stance and swung the stick back, thinking of the games he and the other kids in Oakvale would play, and struck the dummy as hard as he could. To his surprise, the dummy bounced away and spun back and forth from the impact.

"Ah, that's more like it," he heard the Guild Master say. "Now then—" He was interrupted by a loud bell ringing. "That's the guild alarm, must be something in the woods," he said, looking around.

He brought his attention back to the boy. "This is a good opportunity to test your spirits." They walked over to the guild wood entrance, Chicken Chaser taking in the sight of the beautiful trees, some bearing apples. "I'll wait for you at the entrance, while you deal with whatever is in there. Once you're done we can talk about your training." This guy can be pretty bossy. Maybe having Maze as a trainer wouldn't have been so bad, he thought as he walked through the woods. Chills ran up his spine. He didn't know what was in there after all. He didn't know what could be in there. He didn't know anything about this place. He was very far from his home.

He almost jumped out of his boots when he heard a clicking noise behind him. Phew, just a giant beetle! He thought as he smashed it with his stick and rubbed the guts on the ground. Wow, I'm supposed to be training to become a hero and I get scared by a bug? Good thing Whisper isn't here, she'd tease him for a week. To be fair it was a really big bug. He smashed the remaining beetles and hurried back to the Guild Master.

"Great job, lad. I'd say that earns you some pocket money," he said before handing Chicken Chaser some gold. "If you'd like more, I'm sure the servants need some help. Anyways, you have the rest of the day to yourself."

"Right, sir!" the boy said before running off. He had been waiting all day to explore this huge courtyard. He noticed a large building and went to check it out. There was a sign that said 'Servant Quarters' on it. Perfect. This is just where I needed to go.

"Excuse me, boy, could you help me?" he heard a woman say. Bingo. "I'm supposed to have a pie done tonight, but I'm out of apples. Do you think you can find some for me? I'll reward you."

The apple trees! He excitedly agreed and sprinted off towards the forest. It wasn't too hard to find any apples, finding worm-free apples was the challenge, for he was far too short to pick them off the tree. He eventually found four perfect-looking red apples and hurried back over to the servant girl. He plopped the apples down on the counter and smiled.

"Oh my, that was fast! Thank you so much," she said, digging through her pockets. "And here, have this." She gave him a couple of gold pieces. I could get used to helping people, he thought. I suppose that's what being a hero is.

He began to explore more before he found a spiral staircase climbing around a brick tower. That seemed interesting. He walked up a couple of steps but stopped, for he heard voices whispering.

"The journey's length is of no consequence. The oracle must be protected," said a deep, scratchy voice. Who was this?

"How can you be so sure?" Maze?? "We might need you here. Who knows what battles we might face."

"The signs are too strong to ignore, and the Northern Wastes have been too long isolated from the guild. There is much I may learn there."

Chicken Chaser held his breath, walking up the stairs until he could see the two men. Standing across from Maze was a sight that almost made him gasp. There was a bald man with grueling scars all across his body and face with no lips, sharp teeth sneered.

He was wearing blue and gold robes adorned with mysterious symbols that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. The sight of this imposing figure made Chicken Chaser's heart race, but he forced himself to stay quiet and listen.

"Well, I hope nobody thinks you're running away, trying to cheat death again. You know how people talk...."

What is going on?

"Talk is of no matter to me. You know this". The strange man said turning around. "Farewell Maze".

Was the last thing the boy heard from the mysterious voice before a blue light, just like Mazes from yesterday, carried him away.

Maze remained at the top for a moment, staring out into space. as if contemplating something of great importance.

"What are you waiting for? Come in". Maze said after a long pause.

The boy gasped. He slowly walked up the remaining stairs.

"Who...who was that?"

"That was Scythe" He began to explain. "He was one a great hero, back when he had flesh on his bones and blood in his viens".

"...."

"Hes just a shell now. What does he know of the choices at have to make, of what it takes to get things done?" It seemed he was talking to himself more than talking to Chicken chaser.

Maze sighs before walking down the stairs, not even glancing back at Chicken chaser. He too begins to walk back down before spotting a book open on his desk. The title reads 'The Jack of Blades'. Hmm

Back in the courtyard, Whisper was waiting for him. "There you are! What took you so long? I was looking for you" she asked, hands on her hips.

"I... I got distracted," he stammered, still trying to process what he had overheard.

"Well, come on then. There's so much more to see!" Whisper said, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards another part of the Guild. It was clear this girl hadn't had any friends for a while. But Chicken Chaser could use a friend right now.

They spent the rest of the day exploring the vast grounds of the Guild, discovering training areas and libraries. Whisper was full of energy and enthusiasm, explaining everything she knew about the Guild and its history. Chicken Chaser found himself slowly starting to feel more at ease in this new environment, even though his heart still ached with the loss of his home and family.

As evening fell, the two of them made their way back to the dormitory. Whisper flopped onto her bed with a sigh. "Tomorrow, your real training begins," she said with a grin. "It's going to be tough, but I think you'll do great."

Chicken Chaser nodded, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Despite everything that had happened, a small spark of hope flickered within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a new purpose here at the Guild of Heroes.

A couple of years had passed, and Chicken Chaser had grown used to training with Whisper and the Guild Master. Day after day, they clashed swords, tested their skills, and pushed each other harder.

This morning was no different.

Whisper awakened the boy like always. She urgently pushed him out of the bed, insisting he should have been awake hours ago. He knew she was just messing with him now.

She scolded him, but the smirk of amusement on her face betrayed her.

“You just enjoy doing that, don't you”?

“Maybe”.

By the time they reached the training grounds, the Guild Master was already waiting for them, arms behind his back. The morning air was crisp, and mist clung to the trees. Today, however, something was different. In his hands, the Guild Master held two fresh swords—real ones, not the dull practice weapons they'd been using for years.

“No more of those old things,” the Guild Master declared, handing each of them a blade. “You’ll be training with real weapons from now on. Now, let's see if you can actually hit each other

He wrapped his fingers around the sword hilt. This sword felt much heavier than the old rusty ones he was used to practicing with. He got into stance.

Whisper looked at him with a look that read “I won't go easy on you”. When has she ever?

Chicken Chaser wasn't about to go easy either.

“Come on then. Let's see what you've got, farmboy”.

He took that as his que to charge forward, slashing his sword down onto Whisper's. But he was too slow. She dodged to the right, leaving Chicken Chaser staggering forwards a little bit.

She lunged forwards, bringing her own sword down onto the boy several times as a furry of strikes. She was fast like always. But he was stronger. He dug his heels into the dirt, absorbing the impact of her blows.

“Come one slow poke,” she taunted. “You're strong, but strength alone won't win you a fight”.

She feinted left, then darted right, aiming a final blow at his shoulder. But he saw it just in time. Instead of blocking, he dropped low and rolled to the side.

Whisper stumbled slightly as her attack missed. That was his chance. He sprang up behind her. She too blocked just in time, blades clashing inches from her ribs.

Instead of pulling away, he shoved forwards, trying to knock Whisper's balance. Her eyes widened as she staggered back. He pivoted, twisting his body, and struck. He disarmed her, his sword stopping just before tapping her side.

But she wasn't done yet.

She swiped her foot towards his feet, causing him to trip and fall, but not before he grabbed Whispers arm, taking her down with him.

They couldn't help but let out a giggle as they say on the floor, swords sprawled out.

“Ah hello Thunder. Come to check on your sister's progress, have you?”

The Guild Masters voice snapped the young apprentices heads towards him. Thunder! Whispers older brother.

Whisper immediately pushed Chicken Chasers sword away and pushed herself up, brushing the dust off. Chicken Chaser soon did the same.

“You could say that. I've heard you have her working with some farm boy” Thunders deep voice called out. He side eyed the boy who shifted his shoes.

“Maze thinks the boy has great potential” the Guild Master replied calmly.

“Enough to keep up with my Whisper? Bah!”

He couldn't read Whisper's expression.

“Well, why don't we see?” The Guild Master turned towards the apprentices. “Continue on”

Thunder crossed his arms as he eyed the boy doubtedly. He needed to win this.

She lunged first—fast and aggressive. He barely sidestepped in time as her blade whistled past his ribs. She recovered instantly, pressing the attack. Strike after strike, she drove him back, her footwork perfect, her speed unmatched.

Thunder let out a grunt of approval as Whisper forced Chicken Chaser toward the edge of the sparring ring.

Chicken Chaser gritted his teeth. She wasn’t giving him a chance to breathe. Every opening he thought he saw vanished before he could exploit it. She struck at his side—he dodged, but her foot hooked behind his ankle, nearly sending him tumbling. He stumbled but stayed standing.

Her blade struck his shoulder hard—pain flared, but he gritted through it. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist with his free hand and yanked her off balance.

He twisted her arm downward, forcing her into a vulnerable position. She struggled, twisting like a wild animal, but he held firm.

He sighed, out of breath.

But she suddenly wrenched her arm free, spinning away. Before he could close the gap, she launched a counterattack—her sword sliced toward his head. He barely ducked in time, feeling the wind rush past his hair.

She didn’t stop. She pressed forward again—stab, slash, feint—forcing him to backpedal.

Chicken Chaser’s heart pounded. He had to turn this around.

Then he saw it—just for a second. She was overcommitting to her attacks, just slightly, but enough.

The next time she lunged, he sidestepped sharply, causing her blade to miss. Then, with all his strength, he swung his sword at her legs.

She gasped as the impact swept her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard, her sword flying from her grasp. Before she could recover, Chicken Chaser stepped forward, pressing his blade to her chest.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut.

“That's all wrong Whisper” Thunder began. “You need to practice more. Shame you couldn't see me fight in the arena. You might have learned a thing or two”.

This guy was really full of himself.

“Keep training if you want to go there yourself one day” he said before stomping away, not looking back.

Whisper scoffed. “I could have beaten him if you hadn't stopped us” she threw her arms up.

“We have few enough heros as it is, without the two of you tearing each apart in training” the Guild Master frowned.

“Speaking of which, meet me at the archery range when your ready to continue your lessons”.

Great, more training.

He sighed. But he couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. He had won. He was getting stronger.

One day he would prove he's more than just a farm boy. He would become a hero.

---

About 10 years have passed now. The Guild was now the boy's life. His new home was here, with Maze, Whisper and the Guild master. The memory of the Oakvale flames still scorched his mind, but soon he had no thought other than training, and he became stronger and more agile with every passing year. His days were filled with grueling exercise, and nights with study in the library.

Finally, he was ready to become a hero, just as Maze had foreseen.
The Guild master definitely wasn't soft on the boy, but he did what he needed to do to mold him into the great hero he needed to become.

He had taught him the way of the will, teaching him to summon fire and electricity from his bare hands, blue arua emitting just like Maze. Chicken chaser was no longer the boy he started out as. He was now a hero's apprentice, ready to take his last test. All he knew about it was it was it took place in the Guilds forest. He got ready for whatever the test could be, and started off towards the woods.

As he walked through the forest, he noticed Maze standing near a creek.
He greeted Maze and asked what was happening.

"You've mastered the 3 hero elements, strength, skill, and will. Your final test, will be to fight me".

The hero apprentice was silent, not knowing if he was being serious. How can I fight him? I wouldn't last more than 5 minutes!

"Well? Go on. Attack me with your sword".

He blinks, takes his sword out, and strikes. A flash of blue light and he's gone. He turns around frantically, trying not to give him a blind spot.

"What? You missed? Try again".

He's across the creek now? He takes out his bow and puts an arrow in it. Steadying his breath, he aims at Maze. Why is he just standing there? He fires. Maze immediately blocks the arrow with his sword, sending it to the ground.

"How do you expect me to attack you?" He yelled at Maze.

"You think your enemies are just gonna allow you to shoot them? Act like I'm a bandit. Try again".

Ugh. Once again, he gets ready to shoot his bow. But right as he fires the arrow towards Maze, he hurls a fire ball at him.

"Wow, very good. Very fast".

He praised, immediately putting the fire out. He pulls his sword out.

"How about this, if you can knock my blade out of my hands, I'll pass you. If you fail, well, you fail".

Chicken chasers eyes widened.

"Sound fair?".

"Tch! It doesn't matter if its fair, because I know I'll pass!"

"Hmm.. you sound confident enough. Let's begin than". Maze replied, walking towards the apprentice, the ground crunching beneath his boots.

The apprentice swung first, meeting Mazes sword. They continued to swing at eachother, slowly drawing Chicken chaser backwards.

As the clash of steel echoed through the air, the soon to be hero's movements were swift and agile, dodging the man's heavy blows, one after another.

With a sudden twist, the boy's blade connected with the man's, sending it flying from his grip. The man stumbled backward, eyes widening in disbelief.

"Wow, I didn't think you could do it".Wow, such comforting words. "I've seen enough. You've passed". He said, waving his hand.

The apprentice smiled wide, ready to pass the academy.

"Wake up, sleepy bones".

Ugh. Right. He was graduating with Whisper.

"If you sleep any longer, I'll be the only one graduating".

"In your dreams". The apprentice rolled out of bed and got ready. He stood before the mirror, adjusting the ceremonial robes that marked the culmination of years of study and dedication. He remembers that night 10 years ago, when bandits invaded his home. He swore to avenge his family, to make them proud. He was ready to be a hero. His heart swelled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, knowing that today would be the beginning of a new chapter in his journey.

"I never thought you'd graduate, if I'm being honest, Farm boy". There she goes, with that dumb nickname. "I could say the same" He stoicly replied.

The dark freckled girl punched his arm playfully. The two have spent a decade together, after this is where they part.

Chapter Text

For years, the guild was his home, his school, his life. But as time passed, his thoughts always returned to the world outside—the life that had been lost, the family that had been torn from him. At last, his days of testing were over. Soon he would graduate, receive his guild seal, and be free to forge his own destiny. He would become a hero.

The next morning, on the day of his ceremony, he was woken up once again by his roommate, Whisper. The soon-to-be hero met up with his guild master before the ceremony.

"Well, this is the day, lad," the Guild Master said, resting his hand on Chicken Chaser’s shoulder. "I remember the first night you came to us. Now look at you," he said, smiling. It felt nice knowing the Guild Master was proud of him. He had worked very hard to get here. "Maze's faith in you was well-placed."

Whisper appeared behind Chicken Chaser, as she often did. Unlike her large and loud brother Thunder, Whisper's slim frame and quiet demeanor made it easy for her to go unnoticed. Although, maybe that wasn't a good thing in her book. She always talked about becoming the greatest hero in the world, champion of the arena, like her brother. At least, that's what Thunder wanted. He was always pushing Whisper to be better.

"Ah, Whisper, there you are. Are you two ready?"

"Yes, sir," both apprentices replied.

"Good. Now come along, the ceremony will take place in the Chamber of Fate, the oldest part of the Guild." He had heard stories about the Chamber of Fate. Some said a magical weapon was hidden there. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, though; the Guild Master had never mentioned it, and he had never asked. The Guild Master went ahead while Whisper and Chicken Chaser grabbed their things. This was their last day after all; they needed to bring along everything they would need to be heroes.

To get to the Chamber of Fate, they had to go through a huge library, which led to a bridge going through a cave. The door had already been opened. "Here come the apprentices," he heard the Guild Master say. They had never been in the Chamber of Fate. It was a large circular room with everyone from the guild gathered to watch the two graduate. As they approached the Guild Master, he noticed three other heroes behind him: Thunder, Maze, and another woman Chicken Chaser didn't recognize.

"For years now, you have worked hard to earn yourself the title of 'hero.' Now that apprenticeship ends, and you will go out into the world to do great deeds—deeds that will give the people of Albion great gratitude or strike fear into their hearts," the Guild Master proclaimed. Chicken Chaser and Whisper glanced at each other. "These are dark times. The shadows of Albion are stirring, strange winds are blowing. Your choices, whether good or evil, will change the fate of the world." He stepped down to them. "Now take your guild seal, and adventure forth as heroes!" Everyone in the room started to clap and cheer for the newly titled heroes. The Guild Master gave the two their guild seals, and after shaking hands with the three heroes standing behind the Guild Master, they all headed back to the main room.

"Now I will teach you how to use the Cullis Gates," he said, standing near the map. "Of course, there will always be people out in the world who will need your help, but people will also reach out to the Heroes Guild. When they do that, there will be quest cards. They will have all the details you need. After you take one, come over here to the gate," he said, walking over to a glowing blue circular slab that had a guild seal carved into it. "There are many Cullis Gates in Albion. You may teleport to any one you need, now that you have that guild seal. I will also be able to communicate with you using my own."

Whisper was looking through the quest cards. "Guild Master, this one says Bowerstone. Can I take this one?" she asked, holding up a card.

"Yes. Jonah, why don’t you take this one?" he said, handing him a card that said 'Wasp Attack in Picnic Park.'

"Okay then..." The Guild Master clapped his hands together. "Alright, Whisper, you will need to take this Cullis Gate to the gate in Bowerstone South. And for you," he said, turning to Chicken Chaser, "the picnic park isn't far from here. You'll be able to walk there. Well, off you go then!" He turned to the giant map in the middle of the room.

"Goodbye, Farmboy. I'm sure we'll meet again."

"Yeah, I'm sure we will. Uh, yeah. Bye," he said before Whisper disappeared through the Cullis Gate. "I thought that Maze was going to say his goodbyes, but I suppose he's busy with something," the Guild Master said over his shoulder.

"That's alright. I'm sure I'll see him soon enough." He and the Guild Master said their goodbyes, and he started for the huge door that he first came through many years ago.

This is it. He'd become the hero he had always dreamed of being. Now he would make sure to keep his promise to himself, to his family. He would not rest until those responsible paid for what they'd done—for destroying his home, for murdering his family. He swore to hunt down the bandits that caused this. All of his hard work will pay off. But for now, he had to take it slow. He had to start with this wasp attack.

Chapter Text

Chicken Chaser pushed open the large door leading to the outside world. The sunlight blinded him momentarily, a stark contrast to the dimly lit interior of the guild. He had never been allowed outside the guild walls, only into the guild forest or courtyard. But today, he was ready to explore Albion.

He took another look at his quest card and then at his map. Perfect! It's just straight ahead.

"Hey! You're a hero, right?" A man yelled, running up to him.
"Er, yes, I am," Chicken chaser replied, slightly startled.
"Ok, good," the man said, out of breath. "The picnic area is being attacked by wasps! Come quickly!"
Turns out he didn't need his map after all.

He quickly ran through the path, following the man in front of him. They passed a statue pointing in no particular direction and other civilians screaming and running with their hands in the air. "WASPS!"

Arriving at the picnic area, Chicken chaser quickly noticed these weren't normal wasps. These things were as big as his arm! He quickly got out his bow and began firing arrows at the quick-moving bugs. He managed to get a couple down, but more and more just kept coming. The wasps' cries soon began to attract the queen. He couldn't believe his eyes. This thing was huge!

He remembered something Maze had taught him about how to put electricity into his arrows. He tried to focus on the lightning and his bow in his hands, feeling the energy travel through the wood. He pulled back the string, breathing slowly. He let go of the string, sending the arrow flying at the wasp. It sent it flying a few feet, stunned and twitching, but it wasn't enough to kill it. He did it a couple more times, and finally, the queen fell to the ground. Seeing their queen killed, the other wasps quickly retreated. Phew. He could finally relax now.

The people who were still in the park, hiding behind trees or underneath picnic tables, began to clap and cheer for him.
"Oh, we're saved!"
"Way to go, hero!"
"I'm going to tell everyone about this."

It felt great to be a hero. All of a sudden, his guild seal, hanging by a string around his neck, began to flash.

"Ah, hello Jonah, Maze is back and still wants to talk to you. It seems rather important. Hurry back if you're not busy." The Guild master!

Chicken Chaser began to head back to the guild but noticed a large circular thing in the middle of the park. He brushed the dust and pine needles off with his gloves hand and read the plaque beneath it:

'This Sundial was built to commemorate Jack of Blades' most famous victory in the Battle of the Bloody Harvest'.

Jack of Blades... That name sounded familiar.

He was finally back at the guild. He pushed open the doors yet again, but instead of the Guild Master at the map, it was the woman who had been standing with Maze and Thunder at the ceremony.

She was tall and wore mostly red, including a red scarf. She had short black hair and glasses that reflected light from the candles behind her. She looked a little older than him and Whisper. It seemed she was flipping through quest cards.

She looked up from the large circular map. "Oh, hello,"
she said noticing Chicken chaser walk in. "You must be the kid Maze is always talking about." She looked him up and down. "Can't imagine what he sees in you," she said a bit quieter. "Still, I suppose Maze knows best."

Chicken chaser cleared his throat. "Ah, where are my manners? I'm Briar Rose. No doubt you've heard of me."

Briar Rose?? Like Maze and Thunder, Briar Rose was a very famous hero. He must've had a shocked look on his face, for she said

"No time for autographs, I'm afraid. I have to get to Knothole Glade for an important mission." She flashed her quest card which was tucked in-between her index and middle finger.

"Speaking of which, if you came for a quest card, all the best ones have gone already," Briar said, turning away. "But I'm sure you'll find something to do. I hear the kitchens need cleaning."

She turned back her head to smile before disappearing into the cullis gate. What's her problem?

"Ah, Jonah. There you are," he heard the Guild Master say. "What took you so long? Did you walk here or something?"
Chicken Chaser was quiet.
"Never mind that. Maze is gone now, but he should be in Bowerstone South. Better not keep him waiting, or he'll be gone again. So I'd suggest using the cullis gate like a normal hero."

"Oh, right," Chicken Chaser said, scratching the back of his head.

He stepped towards the cullis gate. He remembered what the Guild Master said about the cullis gate:
"Just think about where you need to go."
'Bowerstone South.'
Blue sparks flew all around him, just like when Maze teleported him to the guild many years ago.

Suddenly, the world shifted around him, and he found himself standing in the middle of a bustling town square. Bowerstone South was a vibrant place, alive with activity. The cobblestone streets were lined with vendors shouting out their wares, children playing tag, and townsfolk going about their daily routines. The smell of freshly baked bread mingled with the scent of flowers from a nearby stall. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, adding to the festive atmosphere. There were also many chickens running about, clucking and pecking. It had reminded him of his childhood in Oakvale.

A guard jumped in surprise when Jonah arrived through the cullis gate.

"Another one, huh?" The guard cleared his throat. "Bowerstone is a peaceful town."

Chicken Chaser watched as a group of kids chased another crying kid. The guard continued,

"I will need to confiscate your weapons for now".

The hero handed over his weapons, understanding the need for peace in the town.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a hero named Maze?" he asked the guard, handing him his weapons.

"Maze? Of course! He's in the tavern, no doubt giving autographs!"

"Great, thanks. Uh, where would that be?"

The guard pointed up to a large building with a swinging sign depicting a frothy mug. A woman staggered out from the open doors, singing a bawdy tune.

"Just up ahead. Oh, and one more thing. Watch out for Lady Grey. Treat her with respect. She is the mayor, after all."

I guess it made sense this big city had a mayor. Chicken Chaser thanked the guard and started for the tavern.

As he walked through the town, he took in more of his surroundings. The buildings were a mix of old stone structures and newer wooden ones. Each house had its own charm, with flower boxes in the windows and unique signs hanging above doors. The sound of blacksmiths hammering away at their forges mixed with the laughter of children and the chatter of townsfolk. He passed a bustling marketplace where vendors sold everything from fresh produce to handmade trinkets.

As he made his way to the tavern a little girl had ran up to him, a couple kids standing behind her, giggling. "Uhm, excuse me sir, what's your name?" She asked innocently. "Oh, it's Jonah, but everyone calls me chicken chaser-" The girl bursts out laughing. "Chicken chaser? What do you chase chickens?" A kid behind her said. "Stupid name and stupid hair" one of them said before running off. What's up with the kids in this town?

"Been enjoying all the attention, have you?" He heard a deep voice call to him. It was Maze!

"Huh?"

"I've heard about your encounter with the Wasp Queen. In fact, most of Bowerstone is talking about it."

Chicken Chaser looked around to see townspeople staring and whispering towards the two heroes.

"But you shouldn't let that kind of thing go to your head."

Phew, thank goodness Maze is here to deflate my ego. That was a close one!

"Anyway, that's not why I called you here."

"Oh right, the Guild Master said you needed to speak with me?"

"Yes, you see—" Maze sighed.
"There are dark forces gathering that put your giant insect to shame."

"What? What do you mean?" Chicken chaser replied, raising an eyebrow.

Maze began to step forward. "Tell me, how much do you remember about that night in Oakvale?"

Chicken chaser was surprised. Usually, people tried to avoid saying anything related to that night. After Chicken Chaser didn't answer, Maze said,

"Not much, I'd wager."

"I remember those bandits killing my family, and I thought I was going to be next," Chicken chaser finally replied.

"Your whole family?"

Why was Maze asking him this?
"Uh, well—"

"It seems there may have been another survivor," Maze said, cutting him off. "Your sister."
What?! Theresa is still alive?

"Hold on, I'm afraid it's only a rumor. I just thought you should know." Maze continued on before Chicken chaser could say anything.

"Bu-but how do you know this?" Chicken Chaser said urgently.

"I'm afraid I can't say. I will talk to you soon though."

"Wha-? Where are you going? Hold on, I need answers!" Chicken Chaser said reaching his hand out, before Maze disappeared using his guild seal.

As Chicken Chaser stood in the bustling streets of Bowerstone, the words Maze had spoken echoed in his mind.
Dark forces gathering, and the possibility that his sister, Theresa, might still be alive—it was a lot to take in. Despite the uncertainty and the danger ahead, a flicker of hope ignited within him.
He clenched his fists, determined to uncover the truth. If there was even a chance that Maze was right, that Theresa was out there somewhere, then he would find her.

Chapter Text

---

Although Chicken Chaser wanted to find out what had happened to his sister Theresa, he also needed to be a hero. He had things to take care of first.

The Guild master had contacted him with his seal and told him about two suitable quest cards. One read "Protect Orchard Farm," while the other card read "Orchard Farm Attack." He didn't even have to read the cards to know which one he would pick. He grabbed the card and looked at the map on the back. The farm wasn't too far from here, just a little past Greatwood.

He had passed the Greatwood gate on his way to the picnic park. The only thing he knew about that place was its great trees. They were five times taller than most of the trees in Albion, and the forest was much more dense.

As he walked through the same path he and Maze walked all those years ago, he spotted two men talking to eachother. He raised his hand and said hello, the man with the large mustache looked startled.

"Woaaah, you talking to me?" He said in a drowsy tone."You know, sound waves can make your head spin into the sun! I've seen it happen man". He wasn't sure what to say back to the man. It seemed the the man could tell how weary Chicken chaser was of his claims, he said "If only I hadn't lost my mushroom of truth I'd be able to show you. Yeaaahh"

He looked back at the other man, who looked just as out of it as the mustached man. "Heyyy, if you keep really still I can see your skeleton, far out mannn"

"Er, are you guys alright?" He felt like he had to ask. The man started mumbling about a talking door, and something flying out of his hand. He decided to leave these two alone. "I swear I felt it sneezed on me" was the last thing the hero heard before continuing on his journey to Greatwood.

Eventually, Chicken Chaser arrived at the gate to the forest, but to his surprise, Whisper was already there. She was leaning casually against the gate, her staff resting on her shoulder.

"Whisper? What are you doing here?" he asked her, eyebrow raised.

"I heard you were going to be doing some work down at Orchard Farm, yes?" she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Yes..." he replied, wary of her tone.

"I saw Lady Grey set the opposite quest in the Guild yesterday," she said, sniggering.

Why would Lady Grey want Orchard Farm to be attacked?

"Maybe I should pick it up," Whisper said, still smirking.

"Yeah, I bet you would," he said back, matching her smirk with a defiant glare.

"I hope you've been practicing. You'll need all the experience you can get to beat me!" she said, walking past Chicken Chaser. "See you later, Farmboy!"

Chicken Chaser didn't reply. Instead, he kept walking down the path to Orchard Farm, wondering if Whisper really would take the opposite card. After walking through the forest for a bit, killing a couple of wasps every now and then, he arrived at a large lake. A sign to his right read "Greatwood Lake." There was also a broken bridge to his left. But the main thing he noticed was some sort of stone sphere, with odd engravings all around it. He wondered what it was for. None of the traders or travelers around him seemed to know either. Anyways, he needed to stop getting distracted. Orchard Farm was just ahead.

The first thing he noticed when he walked through the gate was a bunch of chickens running wild. This better not have been what they needed him for.

"Oh, thank Avo you're here! I thought no one would answer our Guild request!" he heard a voice call out to him. He looked up to see what was probably the owner of the farm, a short, round man chewing on a piece of straw running up to him.

"What happened?" the hero asked the farmer.

"Bandits! Please help, they'll tear my farm apart!" Hearing that made Chicken Chaser's heart drop.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them for you."

"Thank you, hero. Oh, only if I'd never found those damn stones! They've brought us nothing but trouble," the farmer replied, mostly talking to himself. He turned his attention back to Chicken Chaser.

"My wife Jenna won't let them anywhere near the house, so we've left them in some crates in the barn."

"What's so great about these stones?" Chicken Chaser asked.

"I'm not sure, but they say Lady Grey wants them. They must be worth a fortune."

All of a sudden, they heard commotion coming from up the hill.

"Eek! That must be them now! Uh- I'd better go inside and look after my wife, she's terrified," the farmer said, running off to his house.

Guess it was Chicken Chaser's time to shine. He got his bow out and pulled an arrow back against the string after seeing a handful of bandits run over the hill. Just imagine the bandits from Oakvale... he thought, taking a deep breath.

As Chicken Chaser drew back the string of his bow, his eyes locked on the bandit ahead. The man's cruel sneer and menacing stance brought a rush of memories flooding back—memories of Oakvale engulfed in flames, the screams of his neighbors, and the merciless laughter of the bandits. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and anger. He remembered hiding in the shadows, watching helplessly as his village was reduced to ashes, feeling the crushing weight of powerlessness. But now, he was no longer that terrified child. He was a hero, armed with skills and a bow that crackled with the power of his will. With a steady breath and unwavering focus, he released the arrow, shooting into the middle of the bandit's forehead. Seeing their comrade fall to the ground with an arrow sticking out of his head, the other bandits hesitated, letting Chicken Chaser draw his bow back and shoot the other bandits.

He went to check on the mysterious stones in the barn, but when he turned back around he saw more and more bandits appearing. He took back out his bow, ready to exterminate the pests. As the last bandit fell to the ground, the arrow embedded deep in his chest, Chicken Chaser lowered his bow, his breath steady.

He stared at the lifeless bodies scattered all around the farm, the realization of taking human lives settling in. Yet, to his surprise, he felt no remorse. These weren't innocent humans; these were men who reveled in chaos and destruction, the same kind that had torn his own life apart years ago. The image of his burning village, the screams of his loved ones, and the bandits' merciless laughter flickered in his mind. The weight of guilt that he had expected to feel was replaced by a cold resolve. In this world, he would do what was necessary to protect the innocent and punish the wicked.

To his relief, he didn't see Whisper with the bandits. Instead, he saw the farmer and his wife standing outside of their cottage, his wife fixing her hair in the reflection of her windows.

"You did it! I can't tell you how grateful we are," the farmer exclaimed.

"Of course, it is my job after all. But what will you two do with those stones?" he asked, turning to the wife, her immediately looking away.

"Oh, someone should be around to pick them up, so we shouldn't have any more problems. I don't know why there's so much fuss about them though. Must be worth plenty to someone. Thank you again, hero. We'll make sure to tell everyone about you. Right, Jenna?" the farmer said, turning to his wife.

"Oh, hehe yes, we need more heroes like you." The farmers wife said twirling her hair.

After saying goodbye to the farmers, Chicken Chaser decided to walk back to the Guild, not wanting to become nauseous from the seal. As he approached Greatwood, he ran into his old roommate yet again.

"There you are, I was hoping you'd be around here," she said, noticing Chicken Chaser.

"You following me or something? Did you want my autograph?" he said jokingly.

"Ha, I'm not impressed by your bug smashing or bandit shooting. I wanted to fight you."

He was confused. "Fight me? Why?"

"It seems you've learned some new tricks," she replied, taking out her staff. "But so have I."

It's not like he was intimidated. "Sure, I'll fight you. Prepare to lose," he said, drawing his sword.

She smiled. "Bring it on, Farmboy. I'll even give you a prize if you win."

Whisper moved first, her staff whirling in a blur of precise strikes and swift footwork. Chicken Chaser met her attacks with his sword, the clash of metal ringing out. They danced around each other, testing each other's limits with every parry and counter. Whisper's agility was matched by Chicken chasers strength, their movements fluid and fierce. They swung back and forth for a while, yet neither showed signs of backing down. With a final, powerful strike, Chicken Chaser disarmed Whisper, his sword at her throat. She sighed, nodding in acknowledgment of his victory. "Damn! You are lucky I was going easy on you" She said breathing heavily, her foreign accent stronger than normal. "Yeah, whatever you say" Chicken chaser replied dusting himself off. "You won't be so lucky next time, Farm Boy. We're bound to meet again, and I won't be easy on you" She said pulling her hood over her head. "Oh, and take your prize" She said, throwing the hero something small and hard.

She then used her guild seal to teleport away, leaving Chicken chaser in a mist of blue will energy. He looked down at the trinket in his hand. He's seen this before... He rubbed his thumb over the round pin with a face painted over it. Whispers brooch. He stuffed it into his pocket before heading off for the Heros Guild.

Chapter Text

Even though thoughts of Theresa still being alive flowed through his mind, the hero headed back to the Guild, ready to take on more challenges. He knew being a hero meant sacrificing his personal needs to help others.

The familiar scent of parchment paper and candle wax greeted him as he arrived via cullis gate. The Guild master, standing near the map table acknowledged his arrival with a nod.

Chicken chaser walked forwards, adjusting the belt that held his sword around his waist. “I've heard some Traders need help” The Guild master said handing Chicken chaser a quest card. Chicken chaser skimmed the paper for more information. The traders needed to be escorted through Darkwood, a place he's heard many stories about, none good.

“Do be careful as you journey through Darkwood though, I've heard the balverines have been causing problems for those traveling through.”

Great.

His mother, Scarlet Robe, told him all sorts of stories involving balverines. Apparently that's how she and his father had met, a quest gone wrong.

Chicken chaser groaned and rolled his shoulders. He's got this.

He decided he would crash at the Guild for the night. As he laid on his neatly made bed and looked at the high Guild ceilings, he felt the memories of him and Whisper when they were younger. He soon fell asleep, dreams filled with thoughts of his sisters, both Theresa and Whisper.

The journey to Darkwood led the hero through the familiar paths of Greatwood forest and onward to Greatwood gorge. At first everything seemed to be going fine, but soon wooden signs began to appear, the lettering sloppy and jagged.

‘Warning: toll ahead’

There can't really be a toll, right? He patted his pockets and sighed. He was low on money.

A sudden scream cut through the gorge, echoing off the rocky walls. He rushed over to find out what all the commotion was about. He saw what looked to be a camp, and at the front of a makeshift wooden gate was a bandit holding a traveling trader by the collar of his ragged tunic. Beneath the two of them was another body, a second trader maybe, lying on the ground, a pool of crimson blood slowly seeping into the dirt.

“Please just let me pass” The traders voice wavered, trying to plead with the bandit.

“Hey what's going on here?” Chicken chaser said firmly, hand on his sword handle.

The bandit spit on the ground. He wore a ragged bandana tied around his head, and seemed to be missing several teeth. “Ain't you read the signs? Can't get through without paying the toll, and he don't got the money. You'll have to pay our price, or we could always use yer' head as an ornament. Either way suits us”.

The trader began to whine and cry again, begging the bandit to listen to him. Chicken chaser sighed as he reached into his pockets. What these ‘people’ were doing is horrible, but he didn't have time for this. He’d pay for him and the trader to get across. He took out his very light money bag.

“That's what I thought” the bandit smirked, roughly letting go of the trader and snatching the money. The trader let out a bunch of unsteady gasps and began to thank Chicken chaser.

“Oh thank you hero! I don't know what I'd do without you, I don't know how to repay you!” he said, dropping to his knees. They were getting weird stares from the bandits, Chicken chaser wanted to get the man out of there. “I promise it's all right, it's my job after all” he said trying to comfort the distraught man.

About 10 minutes later he and the trader parted ways and he arrived at an old cullis gate, meaning he was deep into the forest. He was getting closer to Darkwood. He looked up at the sky as it began to darken. And just as it was getting late…Great.

As he continued his journey to Darkwood, he came across a cave with a sign out front reading

‘Hobbe cave: abandon all hope ye who enter’

He hoped he would never have to go into there. He's never seen a hobbe in real life, but he's heard about them. Children turned into monsters who eat other children or something of the sort. Theresa would tease and scare him about hobbes coming to kidnap him in his sleep.

He shook his head trying to clear it. It's the little things oddly enough that make him miss his elder sister, and he has no time to think about that stuff now. He pressed on, passing another unsettling landmark- a demon door. Although he has never been in one before, he has seen the one outside the heros guild. He slowly crept past the large stone door with a face carved into it, trying not to wake it.

He succeeded in not waking the sentiat door and was met with yet another cave, with a sign that read

‘Darkwood entrance’

Alright, the traders are just on the other side of this cave, he thought to himself, trying to hype himself up. What's the worst that can be in here?
Chicken chaser exhaled and rolled his shoulders again.

After what seemed like hours wandering through the damp, suffocating darkness, the hero finally emerged, only to find himself in a place that somewhat felt worse. It was now dark outside from the time he spent in the cave.

Darkwood stretched out before him, an endless maze of large skeletal trees, their twisted branches clawing at the foggy black sky. The air was damp and unsettling, with only the occasional owl hoot or cricket chirp.

Than-

“Oh thank Avo you're here! I thought I was gonna die in this hellish place!”

Chicken chaser nearly jumped at the sudden squeaky voice, a contrast to the creepy silence he was in a second ago.

Two traders stumbled towards him, looks of terror and discomfort on their faces.

“You must be the traders I'm here to escort?” Chicken chaser asked the cowering men.

“Yes, I'm Peter and that's William” the one with the feather in his hat said motioning to his companion. “We have to get to Barrow Fields on the other side of the forest”

He supposed it couldn't be that hard. “Alright, I'll lead the way, you two stay behind me”

The two traders both nodded simultaneously in agreement, not wanting to stay farther than 3 feet from the hero.

“The sooner we put this forest behind us the better. There are unnatural things out there” Peter said, wringing his hands.

A loud howl echoed throughout the forest, matching the scary atmosphere. The traders froze. None of them wanted to stick around and find out what it was, so they started through the woods, already itching to get out.

At first the journey was quiet, the traders not saying too much except for every now and then, but more importantly no signs of Balverines. The forest was quiet also, no signs of life on the muddy paths.

That was until they came across a man who looked to be injured.

The man exclaimed out in pain. “Help, something bit me and left me for dead!” He quivered, lifting up his sleeve. There was a large bite wound across his forearm. “Please, you've got to let me come with you!”

Chicken chaser looked back at the two traders, who were already looking at each other with widened eyes. The one with the squeaky voice clung onto the hero's arm and whisper-yelled at him.

“We can't let him follow, he's infected. He'll be eating our guts before we know it!”

William, the other trader, shook his head. “We have sworn a trader's oath. We have to help him!”
Chicken chaser sighed. With his back turned to the injured man he said, “He's right. We can't just leave him here, that would be cruel.”

Peter looked down at his fidgeting hands. “Oh this isn't a good idea. Not a good idea at all.”

The injured man, hearing that, said, “I can pay well, and I won't be any trouble.” He noticed he had a very tired, almost sick look in his eyes.

Chicken chaser turned away from Peter who was now side-eyeing the injured man and said, “No, it's alright. That won't be necessary, as long as you're safe. You can come with us.”

The stranger began to smile, the cut underneath his eye dripping a line of blood down his mouth. “Thank you, hero,” he said, putting his calloused hands together. “I'm very grateful.”

“Of course, it's nothing,” the hero replied, digging in his bag for a health potion for the trader. He could hear the traders behind him bickering quietly about his decision, but it was his duty as a hero to protect the people of Albion, even if it meant making difficult decisions.

Now with three companions, the hero continued on through the forest. Occasionally he would listen to the traders' conversations, as he didn't like to talk much himself.

“This is what being a trader is all about!” William said, gesturing to the walls of trees surroundinh them. “Not standing next to a store all day.” Peter grimaced at his friend.

“I'm not so sure about that…”

“You know, one time my father told me a story about two traders who got lost. Ended up having to eat each other,” the stranger butted in.

Peter froze in his tracks. “I'm sure that won't happen to us. Right?”

Chicken chaser assured them he knew where he was going. His map had never doubted him before.

“Well” Peter muttered. “If I ever have kids, I'll make sure they have nice, safe jobs…”

Chicken chaser couldn't help but smile. This wasn't so bad.

That was until they reached the Darkwood marsh. Chicken chaser instantly knew something was wrong. He looked forward down the path and saw a gruesome sight, making his breath hitch and his hair stand up.

There was a massive, wolf-like creature hunched over a lifeless body, ripping flesh from off the bones. Blood pooled beneath the body, glistening in the moonlight.

Balverine.

“What’s wrong, why'd you stop?” Peter quivered, coming up beside the hero.

The sudden noise made the balverine stop feasting on the corpse and snap its head towards the four men. In a flash, it was gone.

“Quick! Stay behind me!” The hero shouted, drawing out his sword.

The balverine appeared in front of him, its freakishly long arms and claws stretched out on either side of it, mouth sneered open.

He brought his sword over his head down onto the beast, but he wasn't fast enough. It had now reappeared behind Peter, who froze in his place.

“DUCK!”

The hero yelled, swinging his sword over the trader's head. Peter ducked just in time to not get beheaded, but the balverine didn't see it coming. The blade buried itself into the side of its neck. The creature let out a loud roar of pain.

But it wasn't done. It staggered, trying to flee.
Chicken chaser gripped the handle of the sword that was still lodged into the balverine's neck and drew a powerful kick to its stomach, causing the sword to dislodge from the beast's neck, splattering blood across the hero's face.

Before the balverine could recover, he drove the sword straight through its stomach.

It let out one last howl before slowly sliding off the sword and collapsing on the ground. Chicken chaser, breathing heavily, wiped the blood and sweat off his forehead. He turned to make sure the traders were unhurt.

They stared at him, eyes wide with shock.
Peter, who was still on the ground, exclaimed, “Dammit, we should be selling things, not risking our lives!”

William flicked his head. “You should be grateful you're still breathing! If it wasn't for this hero, we would be goners.”

Chicken chaser lifted his hand at the traders. “As long as you guys are okay.” The other unnamed man was oddly quiet. Probably just a bit shaken.
Peter shielded his eyes as they hurried past the mutilated corpse, his face contorted in disgust.

“It feels like we’ve been on this trip forever,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the path ahead.

“I could do with a nice warm bath right now,” William grumbled, lifting his foot and shaking off the marsh water that had soaked into his boots. “Wait… what’s that up there?”

Chicken Chaser narrowed his eyes. The path ahead dipped into a shallow, murky pool, its surface broken by clusters of thick-stemmed mushrooms. Their caps pulsed faintly, as though breathing. A thin, hazy mist hovered above them.
The group descended the moss-covered stone steps to the pond’s edge. Chicken Chaser took the first cautious step forward—
With a sudden pop, one of the mushrooms burst, releasing a thick cloud of swirling blue and purple spores. He instinctively raised his arm to shield his face, turning away as the spores curled through the air.

“Be careful! Those spores are lethal!” the injured trader shouted.

Now you tell me?

Chicken Chaser staggered back, coughing as the air burned his throat. The spores swirled in lazy tendrils before settling, vanishing into the damp earth.

“Everyone stand back,” he ordered, drawing his bow. He knocked an arrow and released it into a cluster of the mushrooms ahead. The arrow struck true—pop! Another burst of spores, this time at a safe distance. Carefully, he fired again and again, carving a clear path through the pond.

They eventually made it to Darkwood lake, which didn't show too much of a problem, just a couple of thugs waiting around to cause trouble. There were a couple of things that caught his eye, like a large closed gate that led down a path, or a pedestal with some sort of armour on top. But he didn't have time to explore, he could tell the traders wanted out of there. They were getting antsy.

“Will you stop looking at me? I’m not going to turn,” the injured trader snapped, pulling his tattered sleeve down over his wounded arm.

Peter glared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “I'm just making sure”

“Will you two stop it? We're almost at the Darkwood camp. We'll be able to rest there” William sighed, coming in-between them.

The first signs of civilization soon flickered into view—lanterns swaying from wooden poles, casting pools of golden light against the darkness. The scent of roasting meat drifted through the air, making Chicken Chaser’s stomach tighten with hunger. It really did feel like they had been walking for eternity.

They reached the camp, a modest settlement surrounded by a crude wooden palisade. Within its borders, traders rested by crackling fires, their tired faces illuminated by the orange glow. A few of them eyed the new arrivals with weary curiosity.

After drying their boots by the fire, stocking up on supplies, (and maybe playing a few games of blackjack), they resumed their journey. The path to Barrow Fields was straightforward—except for a fork in the road ahead.

The right path was… unsettling. Gargoyle statues lined the road, their stone faces twisted into menacing sneers. The trees on that side grew in unnatural ways, their branches curling inward like reaching claws. A dark, suffocating aura hung over the path, almost pressing against the skin.

Chicken Chaser eyed it curiously.

“Trust me,” William said, following his gaze. “You don’t want to go down there. That’s the Chapel of Skorm.”

“Skorm? Like Avo and—”

“Yes, that Skorm,” William cut in. “We won’t be reaching Barrow Fields if we take that route.” His voice carried an edge of finality, as if even speaking the name was dangerous.

The traders were adamant about avoiding the right path, so they pressed on to the left, passing through an ancient Cullis Gate similar to the one in Greatwood. The journey was uneventful—until the coughing started.

The injured trader hunched forward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. A low, wet gurgling sound followed. Chicken Chaser turned, eyes narrowing.

The man stumbled to his knees, his body trembling violently. His skin was pale—too pale. His fingers twitched, his nails digging into the dirt.

“Stay back!” he gasped, his voice thick with pain. “I… I think I’m turning!”

Peter and William clung to each other, their eyes wide with horror.

“Quick! Kill me!” the trader choked out. His breathing turned erratic, his muscles seizing as he convulsed on the ground.

Chicken Chaser hesitated. He could see it now—his veins darkening beneath the skin, his eyes flickering between human and something else.

“A-Are you sure?”

“Yes!” The man let out a strangled gasp. His teeth clenched, his voice raw with agony. “Hurry and end this—” he gagged, blood dribbling from his lips. His breathing became ragged, his fingers clawing at the dirt.

Chicken Chaser tightened his grip on his sword.

“I—”

“Dammit, kill him already!” Peter shrieked, his voice breaking.

With one swift motion, the blade sliced clean through the man’s neck. His body crumpled instantly, blood spilling into the mud.

Silence.

The two remaining traders stood motionless, their eyes locked on the body. William swallowed hard, his face pale. Peter clenched his fists, looking like he wanted to say I told you so, but for once, he stayed quiet.

The rest of the journey passed in heavy silence.

But it doesn't stay quiet for long in Darkwood. Before long the ground began to tremble beneath their feet as a deep, guttural growl echoed through the trees. Then, with a deafening roar, the creature emerged—a towering troll, its body composed of gnarled roots, jagged stones, and patches of moss clinging to its hulking frame.

It pounded the earth with massive fists, sending cracks through the dirt. Clumps of earth and broken roots tumbled from its shoulders with each slow, thunderous step.

The traders couldn't help but stare up at the giant rock creature with wide eyes before Chicken chaser pushed them out of the way of the incoming rocks being thrown at them.

Chicken chaser knew just from looking at this thing he couldn't go in with his sword, he would have to shoot at it with his bow. Dodging another incoming boulder, he tried to spot weak spots in between the cracks of the troll. He put some will into his arrows, making the wooden arrow crackle with electricity like his masters taught him, and shot it towards the troll. It spun through the air and shot into the troll, which let out a thundering roar of pain. He would just have to keep shooting these arrows.

He began to grow tired from the amount of will he was exerting. This had to be his final arrow. He could also tell the troll didn't have long until it died. This time he aimed for the creature's glowing yellow eye. As it yelled its final roar, cracks went up and down its large stone and moss body, as it crumbled to the ground, shaking the earth.

The traders clapped and cheered as they rushed toward the sweaty hero, their faces bright with excitement.

“That was amazing!” William exclaimed, practically bouncing on his heels.

“Yeah! That was probably the most exciting thing I'll ever see in my life!” Peter added, his voice still breathless with adrenaline.

It seemed they had already forgotten about the terrifying incident with the other trader not too long ago. Or perhaps they were just good at pushing such things out of their minds—survival in Albion sometimes required it.

Chicken Chaser laughed along with them, shaking his head. He still wasn’t sure how he got roped into this mess, but at least it was nearly over. He hoped they were close to Barrow Fields.

His wish was granted sooner than expected. As they crested a hill, a familiar landscape unfolded before them. Nestled at the bottom was Barrow Fields, bathed in the soft hues of dawn. The traders whooped and jumped up and down, their earlier fatigue forgotten.

“Come on! This way!” they cried, practically tumbling down the hill in their eagerness to reach safety.

Chicken Chaser sighed, watching them with a bemused smirk. He might actually miss these weirdos. Not that he’d ever agree to do something like this again.

The golden light of morning painted the farm town in warm tones as they passed through the wooden gates. The scent of freshly tilled soil and the distant hint of baking bread lingered in the crisp air. It was peaceful, far removed from the chaos they had just left behind.

A kindly old man approached them, his wrinkled face creased with relief. “Ahh, we've been expecting you. Good to know you made it safely,” he said, eyes scanning them for injuries.

The traders exchanged relieved glances before turning to Chicken Chaser.

“Thanks for all your help,” William said earnestly. “We couldn't have made it without you.”

Peter nodded, grinning. “Yes, yes! And here’s your money!” He eagerly placed a small pouch of gold coins in Chicken Chaser’s hand before plucking two bright feathers—one red, one blue—from his hat. “And take these too! A hero like you deserves a proper trophy.”

Chicken Chaser took the feathers with more care than he expected, running his fingers over the soft plumes. He carefully tucked them into his bag. He would keep these forever.

With one last farewell, the three parted ways. The traders disappeared into the bustling camp while Chicken Chaser took a deep breath, stretching his sore limbs.

He wandered through Barrow Fields, taking in the sights. Some villagers cast him wary glances, their eyes lingering on his bloodstained clothes. He couldn’t blame them. A warrior walking into town looking like he just emerged from a battle to the death was bound to turn a few heads.

But despite the stares, not much had changed since the last time he was here. The same wooden stalls lined the marketplace, the same wheat fields swayed gently in the wind. The familiar sights tugged at something deep inside him.

Then, his steps slowed.

A wooden gate loomed in the distance at the back of the camp.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he approached it, his fingers tracing the weathered sign nailed to its surface. The carved letters sent a cold chill through his veins.

Oakvale.

The morning chatter of Barrow Fields faded into silence. His breath hitched.

Memories of that night crashed into him like a wave—screams, fire, the acrid scent of burning wood. His village, his home, torn apart in a merciless attack. The night Maze found him in the ruins, the night everything changed.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as if to dislodge the images from his mind.

Should he step through the gate?

A part of him wanted to turn back, to make his way up the hill to the Cullis Gate and return to the Guild. Leave the past where it belonged.

But another part of him—the part that had lived with the ghost of that night for years—needed to see it.

His grip tightened on the gate.

That part won.

Chapter Text

He felt the grain of the wood beneath his fingertips as he lifted his hand from the gate. Though it was light, it felt as though it took all his strength to push it open.

The sight before him was painfully familiar. It was as if nothing had changed, as though the fire that had torn through his home a decade ago had never happened. The past lingered in every stone, in every whisper of the wind. He traced his hand along the weathered stone wall that lined the grassy path leading to the town square, his fingers brushing against the rough surface as if grounding himself in the present.

People filled the streets, chatting and laughing, children ran past him, their joyous shrieks piercing the air. He smiled despite himself. The fields where Theresa used to play stretched out in the distance, untouched by time. He recognized the old houses of friends and neighbors, ghosts of a past life he had been forced to leave behind. But what truly captured his attention was the giant oak tree at the heart of the town.

His breath caught as he stared at it, mouth slightly open. It stood tall, its branches reaching out like a guardian of memories. He had spent so much time beneath that tree as a child. It was a symbol of home, of a life before everything had gone wrong.

“Uhm, excuse me,” a voice came from behind him.

He turned, meeting the gaze of a young blonde woman who seemed oddly familiar.

“Can I help you?” he asked, offering a small smile.

The woman’s face lit up with recognition. “It is you!” she gasped before throwing her arms around him.

“Er—” His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure of what to do.

“Chicken Chaser! We all thought you died in the bandit raid all those years ago!” She pulled back, eyes wide with excitement.

And then he knew.

“Mia?” His voice barely rose above a whisper. Memories flooded back, unbidden and relentless.

Mia beamed. “So, where have you been all this time?”

Her voice grew muffled, and suddenly, the world around him blurred. His breathing turned shallow. The laughter and chatter of the town warped into something darker.

Screams. Flames. The acrid stench of burning wood and flesh.

He blinked. Mia was no longer a woman—she was a little girl again, clutching a tattered teddy bear.

“You do remember, don’t you, mister?” her small voice asked, eyes wide with innocent curiosity. “I was looking for Rosie, my teddy bear… just before the raid.”

His heart pounded against his ribs. His hands—small, covered in dirt and frayed gloves. No. No, no, no. He was young and helpless again. Trapped in the past.

The sounds of that night overwhelmed him. The shouts of the bandits. The cries for mercy. His father's body-

Then it was gone.

He stood in the present once more, Mia watching him with concern.

“Er—are you alright?” she asked, tilting her head.

He nodded. “I… I think I need some water. I don’t feel too well.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Sorry for keeping you. It was really great seeing you again. Take care!”

Her voice faded as he turned away, making his way toward the pub. His head hurt.

A bell jingled as he pushed open the swinging doors. The scent of ale and woodsmoke filled his senses.

“Ah, there you are,” a voice drawled. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten too famous to be seen around here.”

His head snapped up.

That voice.

His exhaustion melted away in an instant, replaced by a rush of familiarity. Relief. He turned, eyes landing on the man sitting at the bar. Maze.

The hero was as imposing as ever, his presence commanding even in the dimly lit pub.

Chicken chaser jogged over to him, about to open his mouth. Maze lifted a hand as if anticipating what Chicken Chaser was about to ask.

“I’m afraid I know nothing more about your sister,” Maze said evenly.

His heart sank.

But then—

“There is hope, though.”

He straightened, a flicker of desperation lighting up his eyes. “Please! Anything that could help me find her.”

Maze sighed, considering his words carefully. “There is said to be a blind seeress who resides at Twinblade’s bandit camp. She may have answers for you.”

A sharp pang of hope ignited in his chest. If there was even the slightest chance that she could tell him about Theresa—whether she was alive, where she had gone—he would take it.

“The seeress stands beside the Bandit King himself,” Maze continued. “And it’s no coincidence the bandits have been doing so well lately.”

Chicken Chaser hesitated, brow furrowing.

Maze studied him, waiting for him to catch on. “No doubt you’ve heard of Twinblade?”

The name sent a chill down his spine. “Twinblade… he was a hero once?”

“Yes,” Maze confirmed. “A giant of a man. He had little patience for the Guild and abandoned it long ago, gathering a dozen bandit factions under his rule.”

Maze turned, his gaze drifting to the window. The ocean stretched beyond Oakvale, waves crashing against the shore before retreating back into the depths.

“I’ve always suspected he was behind the attack on your home.” His voice was quiet now. Measured. He turned back to Chicken Chaser, his blue eyes unreadable. “This could be your chance for revenge.”

For a moment, silence settled between them.

There was something in Maze’s expression. Something distant. Regret? Sadness?

Chicken Chaser wasn’t sure.

“Where is his camp?” he asked, his voice steady.

“Not far,” Maze said, nodding toward the coastline. “Follow the shore, through the mountains. You’ll find it soon enough.”

He hesitated. It looked like he wanted to say more, but something held him back.

Instead, he simply said, “Be careful, Jonah.”

Chicken Chaser nodded. “Right. Thank you, sir—Maze.”

Maze had been more than a mentor. More than a trainer. He had almost been like a father to him. And despite his aloof nature, despite the cold exterior, Chicken Chaser knew that the man cared deep down.

Maze gave him a final nod before turning toward the door. “We’ll meet again soon, Jonah.”

And then, he was gone.

The weight of what he was about to do finally settled in. His heart pounded as the reality of it hit him.

There’s a chance he'll find Theresa.

After a night of sleep in the Oakvales tavern and renewed determination, he turned toward the door. He knew where he had to go.

To the Bandit King’s camp.

Definitely not terrified or anything.

But if he could survive balverines and trolls—what was a couple of bandits?

Not just a couple of bandits.

He had only gotten so far through the coast line before he had sniped dozens of bandits with his bow just trying to get to the front gate.

By the time he had gotten to the first gate, it was just a bit darker, about an hour since he's left Oakvale. When he stepped through he saw a couple of guards and ducked down out of instinct. He couldn't help but eavesdrop.

“Did you hear what happened to Stern?” one of them muttered, his thick accent slurred with boredom.

“No? What’d the idiot do this time?” the other grunted.

“Forgot his bloody cap during a raid. Took him a week to get back into camp.”

Chicken Chaser ran his fingers through his brunette hair.

“Oh yeah,” the second bandit scoffed. “Can’t get in without full gear these days.”

The first bandit leaned in, lowering his voice. “If you ask me, ol’ Twinblade’s gettin’ jumpy. Wonder what’s got into him.”

Chicken Chaser shifted his weight, and a twig snapped under his boot.

Both bandits turned sharply.

“Oi! Who’s there?”

Shit.

Before the first one could take a step forward, Chicken Chaser shot a bolt of lightning from his fingertips. The crackling energy hit the man square in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground, his body twitching as the scent of burnt flesh filled the air. The second bandit froze, staring at his fallen companion in horror.

“Drop your weapon,” Chicken Chaser ordered.

The bandit barely hesitated before letting his sword clatter onto the dirt.

This was going to sound weird, but there wasn’t really another way to go about it.

“Er... take your clothes off.” He cleared his throat. “Please.”

The bandit was surprised, to say the least, but when Chicken Chaser raised his hand again, sparks flickering from his fingertips, the man quickly stripped down to nothing but his undergarments. His clothes—ragged, dirty, and reeking of sweat—landed in a heap at his feet.

“Turn around,” Chicken Chaser instructed. The man obeyed, and he wasted no time swapping his own tunic for the bandit rags. His nose wrinkles at the smell. His own clothes weren't the cleanest, but it couldn't get much worse than this. But he had to admit—it was a solid disguise. He tied the bandit to the wooden post at the gate, stashed his old clothes in a bush, and adjusted the bandana over his face.

He just had to act like a bandit.

Slouching, he passed another bandit, who barely glanced at him. Good. So far, so good.

The deeper he moved into the camp, the darker the sky became. The camp was larger than he expected, a sprawling mess of tents, makeshift structures, and fires burning low. He didn't want to admit it but his messy hair and malnourished build made him blend in with the bandits. No one paid him any mind.

But he still felt tense.

His fingers toyed with the bloodied bandages wrapped around his hands as he approached another gate. A heavily armed bandit stood guard, his broad chest blocking the entrance. His gaze swept over Chicken Chaser, sharp and assessing.

“Ello’ mate,” The guard narrowed his eyes. “Who’re you?”

He tried to sound casual. “New recruit. This is Twinblade’s camp, right?”

The guard grunted. “Yeah. Once yer in, yer in for good. Most of the lads are asleep, so keep it down.” He turned his head and called out, “Another one comin’ in, Joe! Open the gates!”

The heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing a massive clearing filled with bandits. Some were gathered around fires, drinking and gambling, while others slumped against barrels or lay sprawled on the ground, passed out. There were trading stalls, weapon racks, even a makeshift bar.

As he wove his way through the camp, something caught his attention—a sound. Faint voices. Women.

And they sounded afraid.

His jaw tightened. He cast a quick glance around, then slipped into a narrow pathway between two tents. The voices grew clearer, edged with panic. Twinblade could wait a little longer.

At the end of the path, a crude iron cage stood in the shadows, two young women trapped inside.

They gasped when they saw him, their eyes wide with fear. One shrank back against the bars.

“Please, don’t hurt us!” she whimpered. “Just let us go!”

Chicken Chaser yanked down his bandana and held up his hands.

“No, it’s alright. I’m not one of them.” He pulled his guild seal from beneath his stolen shirt, letting them see the emblem.

The women’s eyes widened.

“Oh, thank Avo!” The first one nearly collapsed in relief. “You have to help us! The guard over there has the key.” She pointed down the path.

“Alright,” he said firmly. “You can count on me.”

The second woman choked on a sob. “Thank you, sir.”

He smiled reassuringly and nodded, then yanked the bandana back up and crept toward the guard. The man was slouched lazily against a post, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

It was over in seconds.

The guard barely had time to react before Chicken Chaser’s blade sliced across his throat. He crumpled without a sound, blood soaking into the dirt.

With swift hands, he grabbed the key from the corpse’s belt and rushed back to the cage. The lock clicked open, and he heaved the bars up.

The women stumbled out, trembling.

“Go,” he urged. “Now. Before the others notice.”

They hesitated only a second before darting off into the night. Chicken Chaser lingered just long enough to make sure they slipped past the sleeping bandits unnoticed.

But this was his chance.

He turned back to the guard at Twinblade’s gate, breath steadying.

“The hostages escaped!” he shouted.

The guard cursed and bolted toward the cages.

Chicken Chaser didn’t wait.

He slipped through the now-unguarded gate, tearing the bandana from his face and letting it fall to the ground.

It was time to meet Twinblade and this “seeress”.

He was met with a deep, ragged voice.

"I've been waiting for you."

Chicken chasers heart dropped. How could Twinblade have known?

Before he could react, a wall of armed bandits formed around him, their murmurs swelling into laughter and cheers. The ring of steel being drawn from scabbards filled the air.

"Stand back, lads," one of them barked. "Twinblade wants a word with this little hero."

Chicken chaser continued forward, stepping through the jeering crowd. His grip on his sword tightened as he tried to steady his breathing. If Twinblade wanted a fight, he’d get one.

The path opened into a vast, circular arena, torches lining the perimeter and casting flickering shadows across the sand. Jonah's boots crunched against the ground as he took his place.

A hulking figure emerged from the darkness, his every step sending small vibrations through the worn planks of the wooden platform. The man was about 7 feet tall, a giant compared to Chicken chasers 5’9 self. It didn't help that he was what looked to be covered head to toe in armour, his scarred arms holding twin greatswords that looked heavier than Chicken chaser himself.

Twinblade chuckled, his voice a low, menacing rumble.

"She said a Guild puppet would come. And here you are."

Chicken chaser tensed. She?

Twinblade dragged one blade against the other, the metal screeching. "My blades have been starving. They haven't been fed in days."

Chicken chaser held his ground. "Where is she?"

Twinblade sneered. "Guess you'll have to find out. Draw your blade, Guild puppet. Let’s see what you're made of."

Without waiting for an answer, the Bandit King turned, stepping onto the wooden dueling platform. Jonah caught a glimpse of his bare back—littered with battle scars, with a large skull tattoo inked between his shoulder blades.

Jonah exhaled sharply, then followed. He unsheathed his sword and stepped onto the platform.

Twinblade was the first to strike.

One of his enormous swords came crashing down, splitting the air with a forceful whoosh. He barely dodged, rolling to the side as the blade struck the ground, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

Twinblade’s strength was terrifying, but his attacks were slow—there were precious seconds between each swing.

He seized the opportunity, darting in and slashing at the giant’s exposed side. But with a swift motion, Twinblade deflected the attack with his second sword, the force of the parry sending the hero stumbling backward.

Twinblade grinned, advancing.

Chicken chaser tried to block out the sound of the bandits roaring in the background, focusing on his opponent’s movements.

Twinblade swung again—this time both blades. Jonah dove aside, but the sheer force of the strike sent him sprawling onto the ground. The Bandit King loomed over him, his swords raised high for the finishing blow.

Chicken chaser barely rolled out of the way as Twinblade’s blades slammed down, embedding themselves deep into the wooden platform.

This was his chance.

He surged forward, driving his sword deep into Twinblade’s exposed back. The Bandit King roared, his body convulsing from the sudden pain.

But he wasn’t done. With a single powerful swing of his massive arm, Twinblade struck Jonah, sending him skidding across the platform. Chicken chaser gasped, struggling to catch his breath.

Twinblade straightened, laughter rumbling from his chest.

"What will you do without a sword, Guild-puppet?"

The hero clenched his fists, summoning the electric energy within him. He thrust his hands forward, bolts of lightning crackling toward the Bandit King.

The electricity surged through Twinblade’s body, slowing him—but not stopping him. He merely twitched, shaking off the attack.

Who is this man?

Once again, Twinblade swung, and once again, his blades lodged into the wood. He wasted no time. He sprinted forward, gripping the hilt of his embedded sword, and with all his strength, twisted it deeper. Blood sprayed across the platform.

Twinblade groaned, his legs buckling slightly.

Chicken chaser yanked the sword free, stepping back, ready to land the final blow.

Twinblade dropped to one knee, his breathing ragged.

"Finish it quick then," he muttered.

The hero raised his blade.

And then—

"There you are."

The world froze.

Chicken chasers heartbeat thundered in his ears as a figure stepped forward, illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. A woman, cloaked in red, her posture calm yet commanding. His brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly. "Don't you recognize your own sister?"

The air in his lungs vanished.

The crowd of bandits faded into silence. The arena disappeared. In this moment, it was just him and her.

"Theresa..." he breathed.

She stepped closer, her expression unreadable.

"Jonah. I've seen so many things. So much killing. So much dying."

Jonah took an uncertain step forward. "Theresa? What happened to you?"

He could barely meet her gaze—because where her eyes should have been, there were only bloodstained bandages.

"I've seen you, little brother." Her voice was calm but heavy with something deeper. "In a ring of sand and blood. An arena full of secrets."

Chicken chaser shook his head, confusion twisting his thoughts. "What are you talking about?"

"I've seen the choices you’ll have to make one day," she continued. "Between darkness and light."

Behind her, Twinblade groaned. “Theresa?”

She turned slightly. "I'm sorry, Twinblade. Your path is alone now. All our paths are."

He swallowed hard. "Theresa... what are you doing here?"

She ignored the question. Instead, she reached for him.

"But before I leave, brother, I have a present for you. For all the birthdays I've missed."

She placed her hands on his shoulders, and suddenly, warmth surged through his veins. His skin tingled as a strange energy coiled around him, settling deep in his bones.

“A power that runs through our family” a bright aura began to glow around them.

Theresa smiled faintly, turning away. "He finds you when you're sleeping, and when the daylight fades..."

And then—just as suddenly as she had appeared—she was gone.

He stared at the empty space where she had stood, his mind reeling.

Twinblade let out a weak chuckle. "What are you waiting for? Finish me. I'm no one's king anymore."

The hero turned to face the Bandit King, sword still in hand.

But he no longer had the will to kill.

He exhaled sharply, sliding his sword back into its sheath. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

He pushed open the gates, stepping into the cool night air.

He didn’t know what to think. What to feel.

But he did know one thing.

He had to return to the Guild. He had to tell the Guildmaster. And Maze, if he was there.

Because Theresa was alive.

And she had just changed everything.

The moment Chicken Chaser activated his Guild Seal, he felt the familiar pull of teleportation. The world blurred, then reformed around him. He was back at the Guild.

He wasted no time. He stormed into the main hall, words spilling from his mouth faster than he could process them.

His sister. Twinblade. The fight. The new powers.

He barely stopped to take a breath, and by the time he finished, he wasn’t even sure the Guildmaster had understood half of what he said.

The older man sat there, unshaken, his expression as composed as ever.

"I see," was all he said.

Chicken Chaser stared at him. That’s it?

Why did no one seem as disturbed by this as he was?

The Guildmaster folded his hands. "You should speak to Maze. He's waiting for you in his quarters."

Chicken Chaser let out a sharp exhale but nodded. He had hoped to speak with Maze anyway.

He ascended the familiar spiral staircase, his boots echoing against the stone steps. As a child, he had made this climb countless times. But now, it felt different. He wasn’t just another student anymore.

Reaching the top, he found Maze standing by the fireplace, the flickering flames casting long shadows behind him.

Without turning, Maze spoke. "So, you found your sister. I never would have imagined her living among bandits."

Chicken Chaser froze. How did he know that?

Maze finally turned to face him. "You've come a long way these past few years, haven’t you?"

Chicken Chaser shifted uncomfortably, wringing his hands together.

Maze’s gaze lingered on him before he continued. "People are starting to wonder when they’ll see you in the arena at Witchwood."

Chicken Chaser blinked. "The arena?"

He had thought about it before, but was he truly ready? Did Maze believe he was?

"Yes," Maze said smoothly. "But before you go running off, I left you a quest card of my own. A favour if you will. "

He turned back to the fire. "An old friend of mine has gone missing. Calls himself the Archaeologist."

Chicken Chaser straightened. "Missing?"

"He seems to have stumbled onto something big. Perhaps big enough to put his life in danger."

Chicken Chaser frowned. "Where should I start looking?"

Maze’s voice was quiet but firm. "Rumor has it he's hiding somewhere in Witchwood. That is—if he isn't already dead."

Chicken Chaser nodded. "I’ll find him."

He turned to leave but hesitated. "Maze, one more thing…"

The older man exhaled sharply. "Yes? Get on with it."

Chicken Chaser hesitated before asking, "Do you know what happened to Theresa?"

A beat of silence.

Maze's expression didn’t change. "I'm afraid I don't."

Then he turned back toward the fire.

Chicken Chaser clenched his jaw. He knew that was all he would get from him.

He made his way back to the center of the Guild, swiping the quest card Maze had left for him. His eyes drifted toward the glowing blue Cullis Gate ahead.

Once again, he had to leave behind his own wants.

Once again, he had to push thoughts of his family aside.

It was time to find the Archaeologist.

Chapter Text

After a long night’s sleep—well needed after the day he had before—Chicken Chaser was ready to start his next journey.

The bright blue light of the Cullis Gate faded around him, and he squinted against the dim surroundings. It was cold, that's for sure. Cold and wet. Even though he had left early in the morning, this overgrown forest was dark, its thick canopy blocking out most of the light.

He stepped off the stone platform and onto the muddy ground, boots squishing into the ground. The air smelled strongly of rain and dewey grass. And something else. Blood?

A familiar, bone-chilling howl confirmed his suspicions.

Balverine.

Chicken Chaser barely had time to draw his greatsword before the wolf-like creature leapt from the trees above. The fight was over in seconds. His sword felt lighter than ever—almost weightless in his hands. Whatever power Theresa had given him, it was working. He had felt different ever since that night.

He continued through the forest, unsure exactly what he was looking for. He supposed he would just have to watch for anything suspicious. There were few signs of human presence—an occasional lantern, a lone torch flickering in the wind. And of course, the ruins. Ancient remnants of the Old Kingdom.

As he passed another one of those large, strange stones engraved with runes, he brushed his hand over its surface. A tingling sensation spread across his palm, reminding him of Theresa.

Just my imagination.

The storm overhead rumbled louder, but otherwise, the woods were eerily silent.

That was until he came upon a Demon Door.

Its stone lips parted as he stepped closer. And then—

It sighed?

Chicken Chaser hesitated. “Uhm, have you happened to see a man around here? He’s gone miss—”

"I only open up to those who know my name” it cut him off.

He frowned. How am I supposed to know this things name?

"See those stones behind you?"

He turned around. Sure enough, four stone markers stood there, each engraved with a single letter:

H, S, T, I

"Hit the magic stones to spell it out."

Okay, this couldn't be too hard. He walked over the stones behind him and traced his fingers on the engraved letters.

It couldn’t be—

Using the hilt of his sword, he struck the stones in order. S. H. I. T.—

A loud snarl cut through the air.

Chicken Chaser barely had time to react before another balverine lunged at him from the shadows.

Where the hell did that come from?!

With a swift swing of his blade, he dispatched the creature, blood splattering across the muddy ground. He turned back to the stones, scowling. He shook his wet hair out of his eyes.

Alright. What else could they spell?

“Sith”? The stones glowed, then faded.

“Hits”? They glowed again. He heard the demon door huff.

“So you worked out my name. Big deal. In you go."

Its glowing eyes shut as a deep line formed down the center of the stone face. Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing a dark passageway. He brushed cobwebs out of his way as he walked on, summoning a small ball of fire as a light source.

Further in, a man in an odd outfit stood hunched over a table, muttering to himself as he flipped through a stack of papers.

Chicken Chaser cleared his throat. "Uh, excuse me? Who are you?"

The man nearly jumped out of his skin, clutching the papers to his chest. "Eek! Who are you?!"

"I’m a Hero from the Guild." He lifted his Guild Seal. "I was sent to find a missing person."

The man’s brows furrowed. "If you can find me, that means they can find me!"He hurriedly began gathering his scattered papers.

"I should have never started studying the Focus Sites," he muttered, stuffing documents into a satchel.

Chicken Chaser frowned. Focus sights?

"Who are you talking about, sir?"

The man ignored him, still rambling. "How was I supposed to know Jack was interested in them too?"

Jack of Blades?

Chills ran down his spine at the name.

He took a step closer. "Please, slow down sir. You’re the Archaeologist I was sent to find?"

The man nodded absentmindedly. "Look, I have no time to explain. You can read my journal if you want—I don’t need it anymore!"

He threw a tattered book onto the table, then huffed. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off. It’s not safe for me here anymore. Thanks to you."

And just like that, he turned on his heel and stormed out.

Chicken Chaser sighed. Nothing ever goes his way.

He grabbed the Archaeologist’s journal before taking a look around the cave. There wasn’t much—a makeshift bed, scattered papers, and an old table cluttered with notes. Among them was something that made him pause.

A Queen Wasp’s head.

Just like the one he had fought outside the Guild.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Shaking his head, he flipped through the journal’s pages.

Encrypted.

The writing was in some foreign language. Paranoid, isn’t he?

Snapping the book shut, he made his way back outside.

The storm had worsened. Rain pelted against his armor as he took a deep breath. Might as well explore more of Witchwood while I’m here.

He followed a winding path past the Demon Door and its stones until he came across a wooden sign:

“Temple of Avo Ahead.”

He narrowed his eyes. Like the Chapel of Skorm?

Interesting.

Might as well check it out.

The temple itself was an aged stone structure, likely built during the Old Kingdom. Unlike the crumbling ruins scattered throughout Witchwood, the Temple of Avo stood untouched. The wide doors were open, revealing the dimly lit interior.

At the very center stood an altar, flanked by two solemn-looking monks in heavy robes. One of them noticed Chicken Chaser’s arrival and stepped forward with a practiced, almost automated tone.

“Welcome, traveler. Morality awaits those who donate.”

Chicken Chaser glanced at the circular altar beside him, then down at his nearly empty coin pouch. He was already short on money, but leaving without donating anything felt awkward—especially with the monks staring him down. Sighing, he selected ten gold coins and dropped them into the offering.

The monk’s fake smile twitched ever so slightly.

“Your reward will be slight.”

Whatever. Chicken Chaser turned on his heel and left.

The storm had mostly cleared when he stepped outside, and just as he was about to continue on his way, the sound of excited chatter and cheering caught his attention. He turned to see a small crowd gathered up a hill to his left. Curious, he made his way over, standing on his toes to see what the fuss was about.

At the center of the gathering, a large, muscular man wiped sweat from his brow and stretched his back, stepping away from a sword that was firmly lodged in the ground.

“What’s he trying to do?” Chicken Chaser asked curiously.

A man beside him gasped. “You’ve never heard the story of this sword?”

Chicken Chaser shook his head.

The man grinned. “Legend has it that a mighty knight from the Old Kingdom, Sir Huw, wielded this sword—said to be unlike any other. He was a giant of a man, stronger than any beast. His sword could cut through monsters, men, and demons like parchment. But when he died, he thrust it into the living rock, where it has remained ever since. They say only someone as strong as Huw himself can remove it.”

Chicken Chaser cracked his knuckles.

“Excuse me,” he said, confidently stepping forward.

If Theresa’s power had made him stronger, then this would be no problem.

“No way you’ll be able to pull it out!” someone called.

“Yeah, if that guy couldn’t, you’ve got no chance,” another scoffed, looking him up and down.

“No, no, look! He’s a hero from the Guild!”

“A hero? Oh, then he has to be able to do it!”

The murmurs of doubt quickly turned into excitement. Anticipation filled the air. Chicken Chaser took hold of the sword handle. And he pulled.

The sheer force of his effort sent him stumbling back a few steps—sword still in the rock.

Silence.

He could feel every pair of eyes burning into him.

“Uh—it's the rain,” he blurted out. “Made my hands slippery.” He wiped his hands on his shirt.

The murmurs returned, this time in agreement.

“Yeah, the handle’s wet!”

“Try again, hero!”

Relieved by their belief in him, he stepped forward and grasped the sword again, planting his feet firmly. This time, he gave a strong, confident tug.

Nothing.

Silence returned.

“That was my bad,” he said quickly. “I need to restart.”

No one responded.

Determined, he clenched his teeth and gripped the handle with both hands. His knuckles turned white, and his veins pulsed with glowing will energy. He took a deep breath, channeling all his strength into this final pull. His muscles burned, his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut and yanked.

Nothing.

He fell flat on his ass.

A collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the crowd.

“And once again, Huw’s sword remains in the rock. Perhaps it is for the best,” one man said, shaking his head as he walked away.

“Looks like you need some fresh air and exercise.”

“It’s alright, hero, I’m sure Thunder will be able to do it.”

That last comment stung.

Slowly, Chicken Chaser stood, dusted himself off, and, without a word, calmly walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, he immediately teleported back to the Guild.

Maybe he should’ve donated more to the Temple.

Chapter Text

Back at the Guild, Chicken Chaser shook the rain from his clothes and hair, flicking water and dirt onto the stone floor. He sighed, rolling his shoulders as he prepared to finally relax—until he saw the Guild master, hands folded in his lap as always.

“Ah, Jonah, there you are,” the Guild master called, his voice calm yet expectant. “You just returned from Witchwood, correct?”

Chicken Chaser nodded, running a hand through his damp hair.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to turn back. Knothole Glade is under Balverine attack.”

He stared for a moment before sighing again. So much for rest. Without another word, he turned toward the Cullis Gate, feeling the familiar pull of teleportation.

He stepped out onto the rain-soaked ground of Witchwood once again, the scent of damp earth thick in the air. The path to Knothole Glade was eerily quiet, the usual distant howls absent. That wasn’t comforting—it was unsettling.

His fingers tightened around his sword hilt as he walked past the strange ruins and the ever-silent Demon Door. He expected an ambush at any moment. And he was right.

A panicked man came stumbling toward him, eyes wide with terror.

“Please! You have to help! My wife—she’s trapped by a Balverine! She’s just down here! Hurry!”

Chicken Chaser studied him. Something felt...off. The man trembled, but there was no real urgency in his stance.

Still, he couldn't ignore a possible victim. He couldn't risk it if his wife really was in danger. He followed after the man.

The smaller man had led the hero to a dead end. Ok, something was definitely wrong.

“So than, where's your wife?” He asked.

Before the man could answer, several bandits had jumped out of their hiding places in the forest.

“For Twinblade!” They yelled.

An ambush!?

He sighed.

“Look- I really don't have time for this” he said, looking down the path.

The bandits laughed.

“You hear that boys? He ain't got time for us”

“Oh, we'll make time for you”.

The first bandit lunged forward, swinging his sword wildly. Chicken chaser dodged to the side swiftly and grabbed onto the bandits shoulder, thrusting his sword down onto his thigh, causing him to buckle down to the ground.

The second bandit quickly followed, charging at him with a dagger in hand. Chicken chaser blocked it with the armour on his forearm and slammed the hilt of his sword into the bandit's face. There was a loud crack, nose definitely broken.

Two more charged at him, one swung his sword while the other went for a low strike with an axe. Chicken chaser leapt back, dodging both attacks in a blur. He caught the swordsman mid swing, and with his own blade, he disarmed the bandit, sending his sword skidding across the ground.

The axe wielding bandit hesitated.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Chicken chaser called out.

He looked down at his defeated crew. He swallowed hard and forced a chuckle.

“Uh, hey now… maybe we got off on the wrong foot” he said, hands up.

Chicken chaser stopped him from saying more.

“I never want to see you or any of your mates around here again” he said firmly, hands gripping his sword.

“Right of course, we'll be going now” he said, before he and his crew bolted off like dogs between their tails. One limping behind.

But he wasn't done. Chicken chaser turned to the man that had led him there, him being pale as a ghost.

He looked up at Chicken chaser, eyes wide as the moon.

“You” Chicken chaser said, pointing his sword directly at him.

“I-The-They blackmailed me into tricking you here! There was nothing I could do!” He trembled.

Chicken chaser said nothing.

The man had fell to his knees on the ground.

“Just make it quick”. He flinched and squeezed his eyes shut when Chicken chaser held out his hand.

He slowly opened one eye to see the hero's outstretched hand, offering to help him up.

“What's your name?” Chicken chaser asked as he pulled the light man off the ground. He had just now noticed tattoos scattered across his body and face.

“Terrance” he murmured.

“Okay Terrance. You're from Knothole Glade aren't you?”

Terrance nodded his head slowly.

“You don't think you could lead the way, could you?” the hero asked, sliding his sword back into it's leather sheath.

He nodded his head again and the two started walking down the path together. He told him about the Balverine attack he was sent here to take care of. Terrance’s face grew dark.

“We must hurry. It'll be there soon” he exclaimed.

What did he mean by It? They quickened the pace.

Not too long later, they eventually arrived at a large wooden gate, surrounding the village Knothole Glade. There were Balverines pounding and scratching on the gate, trying to get in.

“Stay here” Chicken chaser ordered Terrance.

He drew out his bow and some arrows. He fitted his arrow onto his bow and pulled back the string. He took a deep breath in, and held as he aimed for one of the bobbing Balverines, using the full moon above as his light source.

He let go of his breath along with the arrow as it zoomed through the air and landed itself directly through the middle of one of the Balverines skulls, pinning its head to the wooden gate.

The other Balverines stopped in their tracks, and snapped their heads towards Chicken chaser, snouts in the air.

He quickly began to put another arrow onto the bow, but it was no use, with a howl, the Balverines had already leaped their way to him.

One of them had taken him by surprise, tackling him to the ground. He gasped as the wind got knocked out of him. He struggled under the large creatures weight as he tried to reach his sword. But it was out of reach. He kicked as the Balverine opened it's mouth, revealing rows of sharp canines, growling coming from inside its throat.

All of a sudden Chicken chaser felt the same feeling he had felt when Theresa laid her hands on his shoulders back at Twinblade's camp.

A sudden, searing energy surged through his veins. He saw glowing lines appear across his arms and hands. This was different than when he uses will normally.

A blinding light suddenly shot through his body as forks of divine energy shot into the Balverine above him, causing it to howl in pain. The ground beneath him began to shake, leafs and dirt blasting outwards.

And then, silence.

Chicken chaser opened his eyes. The charred remains of the Balverine lat smoldering around him. The air still crackled with energy. The other Balverines had leaped off by now, no where to be seen.

“What the hell…” he muttered to himself, looking down at his hands, blue lines still slightly glowing.

“That was amazing!” He heard a voice yell out. He looked over to see Terrance jumping up and down.

Chicken chaser quickly got up, noticing the claw marks that ripped through his tunic. He would have to get a new one.

“Hurry, we have to get inside the gates now”.

Terrance glanced at the hero's arm. “But you're bleeding”.

“Really, I'm fine. Let's get going”. He picked up his weapons and started down the hill towards the large wooden gate, Terrance following after him.

There was a guard waiting at the inside of the gate.

“I'm here to help defend you from Balverines. I'm from the Guild” he introduced himself.

“Well alright, I'll let you in. But hurry it up, there might be more out there”.

He let the two in and quickly locked the gate behind them.

Waiting for them at the inside of the gate was a large man covered head to toe in tattoos.

“Bloody Balverines! In all my years as Chief, I've never seen anything like it” he said, walking up to the hero.

Chicken chaser smiled and nodded.

“Thank you for that. Balverines aren't uncommon for us, we might have had a chance. But these damn things follow a white Balverine”.

Chicken chaser furrowed his eyebrows. White Balverine?

Before he could ask any questions, a loud howl was heard throughout the whole town.

“It's here! It comes into our village and kills whoever it wants!”

Chicken chaser drew out his sword and looked around. He didn't have to look much further. What he saw made his eyes widen. This definitely was no normal Balverine. It was probably 2 times the size of a regular black Balverine, which was already about 7 feet tall.

It's piercing red eyes locked onto him before it began leaping towards him, a white blur.

“Everyone, out of the way!” He yelled, sword raised high. He didn't even know how he would take this thing on.

He barely had time to roll out of the way before the White Balverine crashed into the ground where he stood. He spun, bringing his sword up in time to block a swipe of the Balverines claws, the impact rattling his bones.

He shoved back, slashing at the beasts side, but it dodged, the blade barely grazing it's thick hide. The White Balverine barely seemed to notice it was bleeding, but instead swiped another arm at the hero.

This one he wasn't fast enough to dodge. He was flung several feet forward, landing on his stomach. Everything had hurt. Something had to be broken. He lifted his head up to see a blurry Terrance covering his eyes with his hands. He lifted them down for a second.

“Behind you!” He yelled and pointed above the hero lying on the ground. He quickly turned his body, and sure enough the White Balverine was coming down for another strike. The only thing he had time to do was raise his hand up, hoping to draw electricity, fire, something!

But what came out was greater. It was that same light beam from before, bright energy shooting out from Chicken chaser's palm. The Balverine was paralyzed for a moment, roaring from the pain. It took one last look at Chicken chaser, its red eyes sneered at him, before leaping off with a howl. The trees shook as it leapt through the dark forest.

The village Chief rushed forward, several villagers trailing behind him, their faces pale with fear.

"Are you alright, hero?" he asked, extending a hand.

"I think so," Chicken Chaser muttered, gripping the Chief’s forearm and hoisting himself up. Every muscle aches, and the deep claw marks across his shoulder burned, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Good, because I’m afraid you’re not done,” the Chief said grimly, shaking his head.

Chicken Chaser huffed, rolling his sore shoulder. “Thought so.”

“That thing’s skin is too thick, even for you,” the Chief continued. “We once had a great hunter in Knothole Glade. A warrior, the strongest we’ve ever known. He died fighting the last White Balverine.”

“Really? How did he kill it?”

The Chief turned and pointed toward a circle of houses nestled atop the village hill. “His wife still lives up there. If anyone knows how to kill that bloody thing, it’s her.”

Chicken Chaser nodded, then glanced over his shoulder at Terrance, who had been lingering a few steps behind.

“You coming?”

Terrance’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

The hero nodded again. “I’m not letting you off the hook yet.”

Terrance straightened his posture and hurried after him.

As they walked up the dirt path toward the house, the adrenaline in Chicken Chaser’s veins started wearing off, and he truly felt the damage his body had taken. His sleeves—or what was left of them—were soaked with blood, dark red patches blooming across the fabric where the Balverine’s claws had torn through. His left leg throbbed from where he’d hit the ground earlier, making his steps uneven. He ignored it.

They reached the top of the hill, where the houses were clustered together in a tight, protective circle. A cold wind swept through, rattling the wooden shutters of the cottages.

Then came a howl.

It was closer than before.

A door creaked open, and an old woman stepped into the dim light, peering out with wide, tired eyes.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Chicken Chaser said, stopping at her doorstep. “The Chief said you might be able to help me with the White Balverine.”

The woman stiffened. Her lips pressed together, and a sudden, heartbreaking sadness washed over her face. Tears welled in her eyes, as if those words had finally shattered something inside her.

She took a deep breath, her hands clasping together as though she were holding herself together. Then, in a voice strained with grief, she whispered,

“I didn’t want to hurt him… but this time, he’s gone too far.”

Terrance and Chicken Chaser exchanged a look.

“What are you talking about?” the hero asked carefully.

The woman lifted her gaze to meet his, and her voice trembled as she spoke.

“The White Balverine… is my husband.”

Silence fell between them, broken only by the distant rustling of the trees.

Chicken Chaser blinked. “What?”

“He was once the greatest hunter in Knothole Glade,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “He tracked and killed the last White Balverine that terrorized our village.” She let out a shaky breath. “But he was bitten and turned into the creatures he hunted”.

“And he never told anyone?”

“For a while, he could control himself,” she said. “He stayed hidden during full moons, avoided the village, did everything he could to suppress the change.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “But it wasn’t enough. He lost himself. Whatever part of my husband that still existed… it’s long gone now.”

Another howl rang through the night, closer this time.

“Please, do you know a way to kill it?”

“My husband used silver on the last White Balverine. Hold on for a moment”.

Slowly, she turned and disappeared inside her home. When she returned, she held a long silver sword. The blade shimmered in the moonlight, untarnished despite its age.

“This belonged to him,” she murmured, holding it out. “He used this to slay the last White Balverine.”

The hero reached for it, fingers wrapping around the hilt. It was heavier than his usual blade, but it felt… right.

She looked up at him, eyes shining with tears. “Please, end his pain.”

Chicken Chaser nodded solemnly. He stepped back, testing the weight of the sword, swinging it a few times to get the feel of it.

He really hoped this would work.

The White Balverine’s howl echoed through Knothole Glade, a chilling sound that sent shivers through even the most hardened warriors.

Chicken Chaser tightened his grip on the silver sword, feeling the cool weight of it in his hands. This was it. No more running, no more ambushes—he was ending this now.

He turned to Terrance. “Stay with her.”

Terrance, eyes wide, nodded quickly. “Be careful.”

The hero gave a brief nod before sprinting back down toward the village gates. His wounds protested, but he ignored the pain.

Then a massive, white blur shot across the rooftops, moving with terrifying speed. The beast landed with a heavy thud in the village square, its crimson eyes locking onto Chicken Chaser.

For a brief moment, neither moved. The only sound was the crackling of torches and the ragged breaths of the beast.

Then it lunged.

Chicken Chaser barely had time to roll aside before claws slashed through the air where he’d stood. The ground splintered beneath the force of the strike. He spun, slashing at the beast’s flank with the silver sword. The blade connected, slicing deep into its thick hide.

The Balverine howled in agony—the first real cry of pain it had let out.

The silver worked.

But it wasn’t enough.

The beast whirled, swiping wildly. The hero jumped back, but a clawed hand caught his injured shoulder. He gritted his teeth as fresh pain seared through him. He was knocked backward, rolling across the dirt.

The White Balverine pounced, aiming to pin him down.

At the last second, Chicken Chaser thrust the silver sword upward.

The beast impaled itself.

The blade sank deep into its chest, straight through muscle and bone. The Balverine’s roar turned into a strangled cry. It staggered, trying to pull back, but the silver burned like fire inside its body. Its blood began to drip onto the hero, speeding up the longer the creature laid impaled in the silver sword.

With a shout, Chicken Chaser pushed forward, driving the blade in deeper. The White Balverine let out a final, agonized howl before collapsing onto its knees. Its breath came in shuddering gasps, its monstrous form trembling.

Then—stillness.

It was dead.

Silence settled over Knothole Glade. The villagers emerged cautiously, lanterns flickering in their hands. They looked upon the fallen creature—the man who had once been one of their own.

The widow stepped forward, Terrance at her side. She knelt beside its body.

Tears slid down her face, but she smiled.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Chicken Chaser exhaled, wiping his bloody hands on his ruined tunic. He pulled the silver sword from the Balverines chest and stared at it for a long moment.

The hunt was over.

The last thing he heard was the Chief congratulating him before he collapsed to the ground and blacked out.

Chicken Chaser was woken by a ray of sunlight creeping through the wooden shutters, warming his face. He groaned, shifting under the blankets. His body ached. Where was he?

Right. The White Balverine.

His hand lifted instinctively to block the sunlight, but as he did, something caught his eye—the faint blue glow of Will still pulsing beneath his skin. It traced his veins in intricate patterns, much like Maze’s. It felt different somehow, as if the battle had stirred something deep within him.

With a sigh, he sat up, wincing as his shoulder throbbed. Bandages wrapped tightly around the deep claw marks, fresh blood slightly bleeding through. His equipment was neatly piled beside the bed, the silver sword resting on top.

Pushing himself up, he stumbled to the door and nudged it open. The scent of damp earth and rain drifted in from outside.

Terrance turned from where he stood by the hearth, eyes lighting up.

“Thank Avo, you’re awake! Everyone was worried about you.”

Chicken Chaser gave a tired nod, glancing at the bandages. “Thanks for this.”

Terrance shrugged, trying to look casual, but his relief was obvious. “Of course. You, uh… might want to get a new tunic, though. That one’s been through a lot.”

Chicken Chaser looked down at himself. His once-sturdy tunic was now little more than shredded fabric, dyed crimson with dried blood. Terrance had a point.

After grabbing his bag, the two made their way toward the town square. Terrance chatted the whole way, filling the quiet with stories about Knothole Glade and how the villagers had been celebrating his victory. Chicken Chaser half-listened, letting the familiarity of the town settle over him. The rain had left the streets damp, the smell of wet wood and fresh earth lingering in the air.

As they reached the village square, the Chief stood beside a large, nameless statue. His sharp eyes caught Chicken Chaser’s approach, and he turned with a nod.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” He adjusted his long ponytail. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself, Hero.” He folded his arms. “You know, a hero of your caliber deserves a proper challenge. The Arena would be an excellent stage for you.”

Chicken Chaser let out a nervous laugh. “I've been told”.

The Chief continued, “I’ve informed the Guild Master of your deeds. I believe he has something for you.”

Chicken Chaser tilted his head but said nothing. Whatever it was, it had to be important.

The Chief gestured toward the marketplace. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. The stalls are open if you need new gear, and the inn is that way if you want a proper bed.”

Chicken Chaser nodded in thanks and turned to the market, pausing briefly in front of the statue. A hooded woman wielding a double-sided axe stood frozen in stone, her expression unreadable. He wondered who she was. A forgotten warrior? A past Hero?

Shaking off the thought, he moved on.

At the stalls, he bought a few new tunics and tucked them into his bag. With the Chief’s reward money, he had more than enough to replace his ruined gear. He also bought some health potions. It seems Terrance has used his last ones while he was asleep. Before leaving, he returned to the widow’s home, intent on giving back the silver sword.

She refused.

“You'll need it more then I will” she said simply, pressing the hilt back into his hands.

Chicken Chaser hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll put it to good use.”

Before heading back, he stopped by the blacksmith, selling his old steel sword and paying for repairs on his armor.

For the first time in a long while, life felt… peaceful. The quiet rhythm of Knothole Glade, the smell of rain-soaked wood, the distant laughter of villagers—it was a welcome change from the constant battles.

He decided to stay while his wounds healed.

During his time there, he stayed with Terrance—despite failed attempts to rent a room at the tavern. In return, he taught Terrance basic combat skills, making sure he’d never be caught in a situation like before again. He was eager to learn, and Chicken Chaser had to admit… It was nice to teach.

But peace never lasted long for a Hero.

One morning the Guild Seal around his neck began to glow. A familiar voice echoed in his mind.

“Jonah, I have some information that might interest you,” the Guild Master’s voice rang through his head. “Your sister, Theresa, sent a letter for you. Along with a book. Come to the Guild when you’re ready.”

Chicken Chaser froze.

Theresa?

His heart pounded. He hadn’t seen his sister since—

He had to leave. Now.

Without hesitation, he packed his things and said his goodbyes.

The barmaids pouted as he prepared to go.

“Ohh, but barely anything exciting ever happens here!”

Before leaving, he placed a hefty pouch of gold on Terrance’s table. He felt bad for staying for free.

His wounds had fully healed by now. He’d heard Maze mention once that Heroes recovered faster than ordinary people.

Gripping his Guild Seal, he activated its power.

In a flash of swirling light, he disappeared—teleporting straight to the Guild.

The moment his boots hit the stone floor, he was moving. His heart was practically beating out of his chest. He had to find the Guild Master.

He had to read that letter.

Chapter Text

The letter in his hands felt heavier than it should.

Dear Brother,

I have always known we were special, and now I have found proof. This book tells of a bloodline from the days of the Old Kingdom and its connection to a sword powerful enough to rule the world. A bloodline Mother belonged to—I am certain. A bloodline you and I belong to as well.
Perhaps with your eyes, you will understand it better than I do. I speak to the pages, but they don’t speak back.

Theresa.

Chicken Chaser read the letter again, his mind racing. What did she mean by "a power in our bloodline"? And the Old Kingdom? Was she really saying they were descendants of the Archon himself? That couldn’t be right.

And what was this Sword of Aeons she mentioned?

He looked down at the leather-bound book in his other hand, its worn pages filled with ancient script. His fingers traced the embossed symbol on the cover.

His sister was blind—how had she read any of this?

The Guild Master cleared his throat, drawing Chicken Chaser’s attention. He must have noticed the confusion on his face.

“I think I know something that could help you understand more about your family,” the old man said. “But a warning—the risk will be high.”

Chicken Chaser snapped the book shut and turned to him. “What is it? I’ll do anything.”

The Guild Master nodded approvingly and started walking. Chicken Chaser followed after him. He had begun to grow taller than him, towering over the old man by several inches.

“I have heard rumors that a very special someone will be a guest at this year's arena” he turned to face Chicken Chaser. “That someone being the Jack of Blades”.

There were always many rumors about Jack circling the Guild, some say that he's lived forever, since the Old Kingdom, or that he's a demon from another world. But not a lot of the rumors were good rumors.

“What? Why will he be there”? The hero asked.

“I'm not sure, but it can't be anything good”. The Guild master looked him in the eye.

“I want you to join this year's arena, win, and meet with the Jack of Blades. I'm asking you because you're my most gifted student. I believe in you Jonah”.

Did he really think he has what it takes?

“It is a couple of months away though. I want you to stay here while you train for it. The other heros will handle the Guild tasks in the meantime. I'll be counting on you Jonah” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Chicken Chaser nodded, eyebrows slightly frowning. He began to feel confident. The arena was nothing compared to what he's been through so far. It couldn't be that bad.

That night, he climbed the spiral staircase to the dorms and set his things down, but his mind was restless. He needed fresh air.

The Guild courtyard was quiet. Stars flickered in the sky, the wind carrying the distant hum of insects in the surrounding woods.

He walked past the fountain, stopping by the large, moss-covered rocks near the Demon Door. He kicked off his boots and slid his feet into the cold, clear water.

A deep, ancient voice rumbled from the door behind him.

"Your path is dark. Only a light will reveal it. And you are not bright enough."

Chicken Chaser rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I’m not here for you.”

He kicked the water, watching the ripples distort his reflection. His hair… had it gotten lighter? The brown locks were longer now, falling just below his ears, some of it in his face. He pushed them back.

He noticed the scars on his bicep. He traced his fingertips over them. His wounds had healed perfectly, though his veins still glowed a faint blue.

He thought about Whisper and Thunder. It felt like ages since he had last seen them. What were they doing now?

And then… Theresa.

What was she doing at this very moment? Why was she looking into their bloodline? What had she learned that made her send this letter? Was she thinking about him like he thinks about her? Did she know he was alive all this time? He wanted to ask her all sorts of questions.

Maybe, after the Arena, she would reach out again.

He could only hope.

Chapter Text

The hero had been training non-stop for several weeks now. Every swing of his sword, every arrow loosed, felt stronger, sharper, more precise. With help from Maze and the Guild Master, his new powers were becoming easier to control, and his skill with both blade and bow had grown immensely.

But he wasn't quite ready yet.

One afternoon, while he was training in the courtyard, the Guild Master approached with news.

“Whisper is waiting for you in the map room” he said.

It's been a while since they'd last seen eachother. Curious, he struck the dummy with his sword one last time before heading to the map room, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

He found Whisper standing over the glowing map table, flipping a quest card between her fingers. She looked up with a familiar smirk.

“Hello, Farmboy,” she said.

He nodded.

“I seen this quest card and had an idea” she said, tossing the card towards him.

He caught it. “Hobbes at Orchard Farm”.

“Why don't we have a contest to see who could kill the most hobbes”. She wanted to redeem herself after losing the last time they fought. “Who ever wins gets the reward money”.

He considered it. He was busy, but a break sounded good.

He agreed.

“Great, I'll meet you there” Whisper said, grabbing the quest card back and turning towards the door. “Don't make me wait too long”.

After grabbing his gear, Chicken Chaser made his way toward Orchard Farm, cutting through the woods and dispatching a few pesky wasps along the trail.

When he arrived, Whisper and the farmer were already waiting.

“Ah, there you are!” the farmer called out, looking relieved.

“Took you long enough,” Whisper added, arms crossed. “I was about to start without you.”

“I was just telling your friend here,” the farmer said, “the orchard’s completely overrun with hobbes! The little devils are wrecking everything!”

“Don't worry, we'll take care of it” Chicken Chaser assured him.

Whisper nodded and they all stepped foot into the orchard. There were countless little troll-like creatures running around everywhere, shaking fruit trees, pushing each other into the pond, and breaking barrels, laughing and shrieking as they caused chaos.

Whisper ran past the wooden fences first, striking her staff into one of the hobbes, causing it to fall to the ground dramatically.

Now it was Chicken Chasers turn. He quickly struck his sword through the creatures stomach.

They went back and forth like that for a while, each hero taking down one hobbe after the next. The Orchard had quieted down, the two heros checked for any straggling hobbes and announced there scores.

“Ten” Whisper said confidently, twirling her staff.

Chicken Chaser grinned. “Eleven”.

He has to admit, his heart was racing a bit. Even if it was just a simple contest, he really didn't want to lose.

“What? How?” She said shocked, turning towards Chicken chaser.

After making him prove it to her twice, she finally admitted defeat.

“You really don't like hobbes, do you? You're making me look bad”.

The two went back to inform the farmer his orchard was safe. For now at least.

He was already waiting on his porch. He began to clap his hands as he saw the hero's approach.

“Oh well done, you really showed them! They'll think twice before they try stealing from me farm again” he said excitingly.

“I am curious though”, he began handing out reward money. “Who won the contest?” He asked smiling.

Whisper pulled her hood up over her head.

“It was me” Chicken Chaser said with a grin.

“I've had enough of this, maybe the Guild has something more interesting for me”. Whisper said.

He supposed that was his que to leave too. This was a fun break, but it was back to training for him.

He watched Whisper leave in a swarm of blue light.

“I’d better move and check on the damage than” the farmer said with a tilt of his hat.

Chicken chaser said his goodbyes and teleported back to the Guild.

Whisper would always be the same girl he knew from his childhood, no matter how hard she tried to change. He wondered if he would stay the same, or how different he already was.