Blessed to be the Villain

Looking at Arthur's weird expression, Ethan shook his head, letting out a low sigh. "Don't mind me, I'm just venting. I just read a book about the Great Separation and what happened after it."

Arthur nodded slowly, his brows relaxing as if the statement made perfect sense. "That's understandable."

"It is?" Ethan asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah… I mean, that was arguably one of the darkest periods in human history. The more you learn about it, the more you realize how cruel humans can really become when they're desperate."

Ethan gave Arthur a skeptical glance, prompting him to elaborate.

Arthur's expression darkened. His voice dropped slightly as he said, "You might've read about the casualties from that time, right? But I can assure you… the numbers aren't accurate. The real number is much, much larger."

His tone carried the weight of bitter knowledge. Ethan blinked, his chest tightening.

"Not only did people die from natural calamities and monster attacks, but also because there was no one to hold anyone accountable for their actions. No law. No order. People did whatever they wanted to. It was pure chaos."

Arthur's voice grew colder with each word. "People even sold their own children into slavery just for a few scraps of food… for protection from raiders. Life was… quite literally, hell."

His fists clenched at his sides, and for a brief moment, Ethan noticed a flicker in Arthur's eyes—like he wasn't just quoting history, but reliving it.

Ethan hesitated, then asked quietly, "So… in the end, was it worth it?"

Arthur stilled. He knew exactly what Ethan meant—was the Great Separation worth the cost?

He gave a short, bitter laugh and shook his head, his expression twisted into a derisive smile. "I don't know. If we're talking about the big picture, then maybe. But it hasn't really changed much for most people, has it?"

He looked off into the distance, voice becoming more detached. "Back then, we were more united—because we had to be. Had to be careful of the other races. But it's not like we stopped fighting after the Separation. Once we had no one else to fight, we turned on each other. So… in the end, not much changed."

Arthur exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly as he added, "I don't know if it was worth it or not. But I have to say… 'Great people often have to make great sacrifices.' And the greatest—those Deities—maybe they saw something we mortals couldn't. Maybe that's why they made that decision."

He looked Ethan in the eyes, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. "We can only hope it was worth it. After all, so many died. Their lives should mean something, right?"

Ethan didn't respond. He just stared at the ground, his thoughts spiraling. Both of them fell into silence, the weight of history pressing down on their shoulders.

After a while, Arthur sighed and stood up, brushing his hands off on his pants.

"Well, we can't change the past." He looked down at Ethan, offering a hand. "So getting depressed about it is kinda useless. Let's do something productive."

"Huh?" Ethan blinked up at him, puzzled.

Arthur's outstretched hand remained steady. Ethan grabbed it and stood up with a grunt. "What do you mean?"

Arthur simply turned and began walking. "Let's go."

Ethan frowned, brushing leaves from his shirt. "Where…?"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn't you want to see the monsters?"

Ethan's eyes widened. He processed the words slowly, then rushed to catch up. "Wait… we're really going to see them?"

"Yes. It'll stop you from thinking about all that heavy stuff. So let's go."

"Umm… well then, okay. Let's go." A spark of excitement bloomed in Ethan's chest. Real monsters… real fantasy stuff, he thought.

As they delved deeper into the forest, the canopy above thickened. Sunlight no longer poured through—it trickled down in thin, golden beams that shimmered between the tightly woven leaves. The air grew cooler, denser. The scent of damp moss and wildflowers filled their lungs, tinged with a faint, feral musk that clung to the shadows.

A breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the branches like murmured secrets. Ethan's boots sank into the soft, mossy ground, muffling his steps. He followed close behind Arthur, his senses on high alert. Every rustle, every chirp made his heart jump.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning slightly toward Arthur, "how dangerous are the monsters we'll see?"

Arthur didn't slow down. "Depends. Some are harmless unless provoked. Others… not so much."

Ethan muttered, "That's comforting," and instinctively shifted his hand near his waist, brushing against the hilt of his sword. The cool metal steadied him.

Suddenly, Arthur raised a hand.

Ethan froze.

Up ahead, in a small clearing bathed in dappled sunlight, stood a creature unlike anything Ethan had imagined. About the size of a large dog, its body was covered in sleek, blue-green scales that shimmered like water under moonlight. Two curved horns rose from its head, and glowing amber eyes scanned the trees.

Ethan's breath caught. His muscles tensed. His heart thudded in his ears.

"What… what is that?" he whispered, inching closer.

Arthur's voice was low, steady. "That's a Rynwolf. Not actually a wolf, despite the name. Think of it like a lizard-cat hybrid. Fast. Territorial. But intelligent."

The Rynwolf sniffed the air, its nostrils flaring. Then it dipped its head and began lapping at a hidden spring tucked among mossy stones.

Ethan leaned slightly forward, eyes wide, barely blinking. It's… beautiful, he thought. The creature's movements were smooth, deliberate. Every ripple of muscle beneath its skin radiated power—and elegance.

Then—snap.

A twig cracked under Ethan's foot.

The Rynwolf jerked its head up. Its eyes locked on them in an instant.

"Oh no…" Ethan muttered, frozen in place.

The creature hissed, low and guttural, its stance shifting, ready to pounce.

Arthur stepped forward calmly, pressing two fingers together in front of his chest. A soft light pulsed briefly around him—like a heartbeat made of moonlight.

The Rynwolf stilled.

Its muscles coiled tighter… then relaxed. It backed up, slowly, its gaze never leaving Arthur.

Ethan's eyes flicked between Arthur and the creature. "Did… did it recognize you?"

Arthur nodded. "Of course. I've been coming here for a while. It knows I'm not a threat."

The Rynwolf gave a final snort, then melted into the forest's undergrowth, vanishing without a sound.

Ethan finally exhaled, chest rising and falling. "That… was amazing."

Arthur smiled faintly. "Glad you think so. Come on, there's more."

They walked deeper. The forest thickened. A hush fell—no birds, no wind. Just the crunch of leaves beneath their feet and the quiet hum of something ancient.

Soon, they reached a larger clearing. Pale stone pillars surrounded it—ruins from a forgotten era, draped in ivy and moss. In the center lay a massive creature.

Ethan's breath hitched.

The beast was enormous—twice the size of a horse, covered in dark fur that shimmered with hues of violet and midnight blue. Obsidian claws dug into the earth, and curved horns jutted from its brow. It breathed slowly, deeply, each exhale making the ground vibrate beneath their feet.

Ethan stepped back instinctively, eyes wide.

Arthur raised a hand in warning. "That's a Dormant Shadewalker. Extremely dangerous… but only if disturbed. It prefers darkness. Doesn't move much in daylight."

The sheer presence of the creature sent chills down Ethan's spine. Even asleep, it radiated power. It feels… wrong, Ethan thought. Like it doesn't belong in this world.

He whispered, "How do you know it won't wake up?"

Arthur replied without turning, "I don't. That's why we're not going closer. This is the edge of its territory."

They stood in silence, awestruck. The air felt heavy.

Then, Arthur turned slightly, whispering, "Do you want to go deeper?"

Ethan blinked. "Huh?"

Arthur smirked. "There are more monsters the deeper we go. So… do you want to?"

Ethan hesitated. "Well… yes and no."

Arthur chuckled. "Understandable. We'll call it a day. We'll come back when you've trained enough to handle one of these."

"Yeah…" Ethan murmured, still slightly dazed.

They turned. But as Ethan took a step—crunch.

He winced. "Not again…"

A low growl rolled through the clearing.

Both turned around.

The Shadewalker's eyes were open now—slitted and glowing with deep violet light, focused directly on them.

Ethan's blood ran cold.

"I don't think it's happy," he whispered.

Arthur's tone was dry. "Of course it's not happy. You messed up its nap time."

Ethan whispered, "What do we do now…?"

Arthur smirked faintly. "Well, you can start praying if you want."

Ethan shot him a look. "Are you serious?"

"No, not really," Arthur said, barely suppressing a chuckle.

Ethan scowled. "Come on, this isn't the time for jokes."

But inside, his thoughts churned. Pray? To who? I don't even know which god would bother listening…

Arthur's expression remained oddly calm, even as the beast loomed before them, its glowing eyes locked onto their every movement.

"Don't worry," he said, voice low but steady. "I've faced worse. It's not a big deal."

Ethan blinked at him, incredulous. "Really?"

Arthur gave a slight nod, never taking his eyes off the creature. "Yeah. It just has some tricks, that's all."

Ethan's brows furrowed. "Tricks? What does that mean?"

Before Arthur could respond, Ethan saw it—the beast moved.

Not charging. Not growling.

It took a single step forward—slow, deliberate—then its massive form seemed to dissolve like smoke, its hulking body melting into the darkness between the trees. One moment it was there, and the next it was gone, swallowed by the shifting shadows.

Ethan stiffened, heart slamming against his ribcage. "That's what you mean?" he hissed.

Arthur's mouth twitched into a tight smile. "Yeah. That's what I mean."

Ethan swallowed hard, his eyes darting around, trying to pierce the gloom. Where did it go? Where did it go? The silence suddenly felt too loud, the forest pressing in on him like a living thing.

He reached instinctively for the hilt of his sword. His palms were clammy, breath shallow. His instincts screamed at him—run, fight, hide—but he couldn't even see the damn thing.

Arthur crouched slightly, scanning the trees. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't panic. That's what it wants. It plays with its prey."

Ethan's voice cracked. "Oh, great. So it's not just deadly—it's sadistic too?"

"Welcome to the wild."