Hemlock's POV:
I saw him leave.
Young Master William—barely more than a boy, yet already bearing the weight of his linage, he knew nothing about . He joined Borin's caravan with quiet resolve, eyes fixed on the horizon like he already knew the road would try to break him. And it did.
I followed from the shadows, cloaked in silence only a ghost could match.
When the bandits struck at the Serpent's Pass, the caravan scattered like startled crows. Every guard, every merchant—gone. Only one stayed behind: Jax, the boy from Borin's caravan, William had once dismissed with a cold shoulder. Irony tasted bitter that day. But loyalty, it seemed, wasn't always earned through friendship—sometimes it bloomed in the soil of shared survival.
I trailed them through the Whispering woods, watching as they navigated through forest and prowling shadow-wolves. They moved like two halves of a blade—clumsy at first, then sharper with every step.
The Hunter's Guild Arena :
Rorik—the so-called "Bone-Crusher"—was no mere brute. I knew his lineage. House Veyra's hound.
But William didn't just win. He crushed Rorik. The crowd roared his name, not knowing they cheered the return of the Shen heir. But I knew. And I knew Veyra wouldn't let that insult stand.
That evening, the dart came—thin as a whisper, tipped with Black Venom. I saw it scratched William's shoulder before he even flinched. His friends—Jax and Natasha—dragged him into the alleys, panicked but precise. The assassin followed, a wraith in the dark.
I didn't hesitate.
One moment the killer was there; the next, he was slumped in a gutter, throat slit clean. No sound. No trace. Just another ghost erased by a ghost.
I watched from the rooftop as they carried William to a healer and then Natasha's hideout—a crumbling tenement buried in the Slums' ribs. They worked in silence: Natasha brewing antidotes. Jax was guarding for potential threats. William was breathing through the poison like it was just another storm to weather.
They fought like a unit. Not for glory. For each other.
For the first time in years, I felt something close to hope.
##########################
Five days after the slum fight :
Mold wasn't the only thing growing in Natasha's hideout—it was tension.
Jax sat by the rusted window, sharpening his blade with methodical strokes. His scar—still pink from the slum brawl ; itched beneath his fingers. He glanced at William, who lounged on a cot, fully healed, eyes closed but alert.
"We keep hiding," Jax muttered, "we'll start growing mold."
William didn't open his eyes. "Then we wait until the mold sharpens its teeth."
Natasha snorted, fingers dancing across her holo-pad. "Poetic. Useless, but poetic."
The city outside pulsed with restless energy. Then , light.
A public broadcast flared above the central square, casting jagged shadows through the slum alleys. Neon glyphs scrolled across the sky:
"The Legacy Council authorizes a unified hunt within Black Fang Forest.
Objective: Subdue and kill the Tier-3 beast known as the Crimson Howler.
Reward: 50,000credits, Glory and a chance to earn a spot in Veyra's branch family. "
Banners unfurled in the projection—five sigils blazing against the smog-choked sky.
"Since Skyfall, the Five have ruled by claw and creed, their symbols carved into every city's law." Jax said, voice low. "Christie, Hill, Veyra, Orren, and Malrik."
Natasha tapped the holo-pad and said to William who was seeing star by the mention of 'The Five' like a caveman who lived all his life under a rock.
"Christie—serpent coiled around a silver moon.Ruthless diplomats.
Hill—black axe over a storm. Berserkers.
Orren—raven with bleeding eyes. Spies and assassins.
Veyra—golden scales. Merchants with blood on their ledgers.
Malrik—crown of thorns. Theocrats who pray with knives."
She leaned back, grim. "Five hands, one leash to rule the world. The rest of us just pull against it."
The broadcast shifted.
A woman stepped forward—tall, pale, eyes like frozen steel. Her armor gleamed obsidian, etched with the Christie serpent.
"Lady Kiara," Jax breathed. "Tier-3. Youngest ever to lead a sanctioned hunt."
Behind her stood a boy around the same age—scarred face, shaved head, axe strapped across his back. His eyes never left Kiara.
"That's Mainak Hill," Natasha said. "Her childhood friend cum shadow. They say he once held a collapsing bridge with his bare hands so she could escape an ambush. Broke both arms. Didn't scream."
Kiara's voice cut through the city like a blade:
"This is no mere hunt. It's a test of worth. The beast that stalks the Fang Forest mirrors the corruption of this city.Join me Bring me its heart, and prove your strength."
The slums erupted—cheers, curses, bets, prayers.
Jax's jaw tightened. "Christie… that's old blood. Dangerous blood."
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Back in the hideout, Natasha slammed her holo-pad shut.
"Suicidal," she snapped. "Even Tier-2s die in hunts like this. We'll be bait—cannon fodder for the Legacies to test the Howler's strength."
William stood by the window, watching the crimson clouds coil over the forest. He didn't look at them.
"If they are showing the world what power looks like…" He turned, eyes sharp as flint. "I need to see it up close."
Jax exhaled. "You're not healed enough."
"I'm healed enough."
Natasha studied him. "Why? Glory? Revenge? Are you even hearing yourself?"
William's gaze drifted back to the forest. "Because if I don't walk into that storm… someone else will decide if I'm worthy or not. "
Silence settled. Then Jax stood, sheathing his blade.
"Fine. But we do it smart. No heroics."
Natasha groaned. "You're both crazy." But she grabbed her med-ki .
#########
The Hunter's Guild was filled with chaos.
Recruiters shouted offers. Drones scanned retinas. Wealthy heirs in polished armor strutted past lines of ragged independents.
At the registration desk, a clerk barely glanced up. "Names?"
"William . Jax Renn. Natasha Taemer Independent."
The clerk's lip curled. "No legacy backing? No resurrection clause? You'll be corpses before sunset."
William leaned forward, voice calm. "Then you'd better keep a good pen ready—someone has to write our names."
The clerk blinked. Then stamped their IDs with a sneer.
As they stepped outside, a city-wide hologram ignited above the skyline:
**BLACK FANG BEAST HUNT — BEGINS IN 72 HOURS.**
The countdown pulsed like a heartbeat.
Around them, the city roared—bets flying, gangs forming, dreams being sold for a shot at glory. But William heard none of it.
His eyes were locked on the forest's silhouette, where the trees swallowed the light and the wind carried the scent of blood and iron.
Somewhere in that darkness, power waited—to be claimed, or to devour him whole.
And from the alley across the street, hidden beneath a tattered cloak, Hemlock watched.
His hand rested on the hilt of his dagger.
If the forest took William, he'd burn it to the ground.
But if he walked out…
Then the city would learn what it meant to fear the name 'Shen' again.
For now, Hemlock followed.
As always.
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AN:- Comment down your thoughts about the Black Fang hunt plot. Who knows if your plot is better than mine, i may adopt that plot.
What do you think should happen when William faces the Crimson Howler? Comment your thoughts.
To know more come back tomorrow for new chapter.
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