In the dimly lit meeting hall, the gathered men sat on wooden benches, their faces hardened by years of survival in the harsh wilderness. These were not schors or nobles but hunters, warriors, and elders who had lived through countless battles with the wild. Yet tonight, none of their usual bravado or confidence could mask the unease settling in the air.

  Han Ji, a veteran hunter with graying hair and a scar running across his cheek, leaned forward, his arms crossed. His voice dripped with sarcasm as he spoke.

  "Han Zhe, what nonsense have you brought upon us this time? What is it now, huh?"

  Another hunter scoffed, his voice echoing through the room.

  "Yes, tell us. Why burn a perfectly good stag? That could have fed half the vilge!"

  The men muttered among themselves, their frustration evident. Han Zhe remained still, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. Then, in a calm but firm voice, he answered.

  "There is something I had hoped to never speak of. But considering what we encountered today, I have no choice. However, if I tell you, you must swear to never repeat this—not to your families, not to your children, not to anyone outside this room."

  A younger hunter scoffed.

  "And what if we refuse? What will you do? Kill us?" He sneered. "You think just because you’re in the third arc, you can wipe us all out?"

  Han Zhe’s expression did not change. His voice, however, turned ice-cold.

  "If necessary."

  The room fell into silence.

  Even Han Ji, who had been the loudest voice of protest, found himself unable to meet Han Zhe’s eyes. The sheer confidence in his words sent a chill down their spines. No one doubted that Han Zhe could do it if he deemed it necessary.

  Satisfied with their silence, Han Zhe finally spoke.

  "The stag my son killed had a symbol carved into its flesh. A symbol that does not belong to our world."

  Murmurs filled the room, but no one interrupted.

  "That symbol belongs to an Outer Being—an Eldritch Being. There are many of them, and you may not realize this, but you’ve likely encountered signs of their influence before. Ask yourselves: why did that stag not run? Why did it stand still, unafraid, as my son took his shot? The answer is simple. It was already beyond saving. It had been marked, tainted, prepared by their cultists—those who worship these beings."

  Han Ji frowned, his fingers tapping against the wooden table.

  "So you burned it. Fine. But what does that mean for us?"

  Han Zhe exhaled, his hands pressing together as if weighing his next words carefully.

  "You do not understand the weight of what we face. You call them cultists, and that is true, but there is another name—one that should never be spoken lightly. They are known as the Cult of the Abyss. And the being whose symbol I saw… is not just any Eldritch Being."

  A thick silence bnketed the room.

  A younger hunter, barely past his twentieth year, leaned forward, curiosity and fear warring in his eyes.

  "Then… who is it?"

  Han Zhe shook his head.

  "I will not speak its name. Not its title, nor its whispered epithet. To do so is to invite its gaze upon us."

  A cold shudder ran through the men. Even those who had initially mocked Han Zhe now looked at him with grim expressions.

  "But what I will tell you is this," Han Zhe continued. "This particur being… is one of knowledge. It is not a mindless force of destruction nor a being of simple hunger. It sees, it listens, and it understands. More than that, it maniputes. It does not merely kill—it corrupts, it twists, and it bends the very fabric of reality to its whims. And its followers—those cultists—are its hands in this world. They prepare the nd for its arrival. That stag? It was a vessel, a sign that they are already moving."

  The elder of the vilge, an old man with a frail but knowing presence, finally spoke. His voice, though weak, carried authority.

  "If what you say is true, then we must act. But how?"

  Han Zhe closed his eyes briefly before opening them again.

  "We do not act recklessly. The Cult of the Abyss is not something that can be fought head-on. Their methods are subtle, and their reach is deeper than you realize. We need to find out how far their influence has spread. If they are in our hunting grounds, then it is possible they have already infiltrated our vilge."

  The weight of his words settled in. If the cultists were already among them, then no one could be trusted.

  Han Ji gritted his teeth. "Then what do you suggest?"

  Han Zhe exhaled. "First, we remain watchful. Anyone who acts strangely, who disappears for long periods without reason, who speaks in tongues or carves strange symbols into wood or stone—these are signs. If you see them, report it to me immediately."

  The hunters nodded, their faces solemn.

  "Second, no one hunts alone. If the cultists are marking animals, then those who wander the forest alone may not return as themselves."

  The elder gave a slow nod. "And the third?"

  Han Zhe’s gaze darkened.

  "If we confirm the presence of cultists in our vilge…"

  He let the sentence hang, letting them draw their own conclusions. The meaning was clear.

  Eliminate them.

  The meeting sted deep into the night, and by the time the hunters dispersed, the vilge y in eerie silence.

  Han Zhe walked back to his home, his thoughts heavy. He had hoped never to speak of these things, to keep his family and his people ignorant of the horrors that lurked beyond mortal understanding. But fate had other pns.

  As he reached his doorstep, he paused.

  For the briefest moment, he felt something—a presence watching him. Not from the shadows, nor from the forest.

  From above.

  He did not look up.

  Instead, he took a steady breath and stepped inside.

  And far beyond the sky, in a realm untouched by time, something stirred.

  Something had noticed.