The next morning, the gates of Elmwald stood open, mist still clinging to the grass like the last traces of a fading dream.
Alban stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Arwen's shoulder.
"I've packed your travel documents, emergency gold, and letters of recommendation. If you end up at an inn or guild hall, don't hesitate to present them."
"Appreciate it, Alban."
Just as Arwen turned to go, his father spoke.
"A man from Elmwald must have a keen sense," Velward said, arms folded as he watched his son carefully. "Don't forget the instincts we've nurtured in you."
Arwen smiled. "I won't."
Beside him, Eleanor brushed a bit of dust from his shoulder and smiled gently. "Trust your eyes, but trust your judgment more," she said. "The world won't always show you its intentions."
Then, without a word, Alban stepped forward again. From beneath his cloak, he drew a short wooden training blade.
"I trust you'll survive out there," he said, tone calm—but serious. "But before I let you go, I need to see it for myself."
He met Arwen's eyes, steady and unwavering. "Let an old man check that I taught you well."
Before Arwen could respond, a soft ding echoed in his ears.
[Quest: Survive 3 Hits from Alban]
[A seasoned mentor steps forward, blade in hand, to test the instincts he helped shape. A quiet rite of parting.]
[Rewards: +50 EXP, +Stat 'Insight']
Seriously?
Arwen's heart skipped a beat. This was no ordinary spar. Alban was once a legendary adventurer, a man who had led elite scouts through the Uncharted Wastes during the Demon Tide.
He hesitated—just for a second. Then exhaled, centering himself.
Yesterday, while sparring with Skele, Arwen had tested the Skele's Mist skill. The dark fog it released wasn't just for hiding—it dulled vision, muffled sound, and disoriented anything inside it. Effective on monsters.
It confused monsters just fine.
But Alban? The man practically wrote the book on battlefield awareness.
Yeah… this was going to take some finesse.
Still, Arwen always planned ahead.
Back in his gaming days, strategy had been second nature. He'd spent hours mapping out skill rotations, managing resources, and squeezing out every advantage in a boss fight. That habit hadn't left him.
Since arriving in this world, he'd run countless mental drills—replaying scenarios in his head, testing how his skills might chain together in real combat. Skele's Mistbound Soul wasn't just for escaping; it could be a weapon, if used right.
He exhaled slowly, centering himself.
Time to put the theory into practice.
Just before stepping onto the training yard, Arwen tapped the Elmwald crest at his chest.
A soft pulse flickered through his vision as the system menu opened.
The skill window blinked to life:
[Active Skills – Arwen Elmwald]
[Taming Lv.2 – Bind monsters through spirit link.]
[Summon Creature Lv.1 – Call forth a bonded monster.]
[Rockthrow Lv.1 – Hurl a small stone with basic precision.]
[Active Skills – Skele (Void Hound)]
[Mist Lv.2 – Unleash a creeping mist touched by the Void. Clouds vision, dulls hearing, and distorts perception within the affected area.]
[Shared Skill: ]
[Mist Sense (Passive) - Skele (Void Hound)]
[As a Monster Tamer, you share a partial sensory link with your bound creature's active abilities.
While within Skele's mist, you gain a faint awareness of movement through the fog—like ripples in water.]
Arwen grinned.
Let's give it a shot.
He stepped back and gave a sharp nod.
"Skele. Mist."
The air thickened as shadows rolled out. The training yard vanished beneath a swirling black fog.
Arwen crouched low. His eyes were useless in the haze—but through Mist Sense, he felt things. Subtle pressure changes, shifting weight, motion like ripples in water.
For a moment, there was only stillness.
Then—
A flicker. A disturbance in the fog.
Alban moved. Fast.
The first strike came from behind.
Only the faintest ripple in the mist warned him—an unnatural shift in air pressure. Arwen twisted and dropped low, narrowly evading a clean slice where his shoulder had just been.
Second—left flank.
Another whisper of movement. He rolled hard, breath caught in his throat. The strike hissed past his ribs, close enough to feel the wind trailing it.
He was holding his own—but just barely.
The only reason he could keep up at all was because of 'Mist Sense', amplifying Skele's perception and feeding him those subtle cues. And even that wouldn't matter if Skele's 'Mist' hadn't dulled Alban's senses. The fog worked both ways—but it favored the one who shared it.
Third strike. Straight ahead.
He sidestepped, instincts flaring—
Tap.
A light, deliberate strike on his back. Not hard. Just enough.
Arwen blinked. It was over.
The mist unraveled, vanishing like breath in the cold.
[Quest Complete: Survive 3 Hits]
[+50 EXP]
[+Instinct Stat unlocked]
['Link with Skele the Void Hound' has grown deeper. Affinity – 13/20]
Arwen panted, heart racing, arms still slightly raised in defense.
Alban lowered the blade and offered a rare smile.
"Better than expected," he said. "Good use of environment skill."
Velward nodded from the sideline, arms still crossed, but his expression softer now.
"You've grown more than I thought."
Alban sheathed the training blade and gave a rare, approving nod. "That fog trick… not bad."
Arwen stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling as the last of the tension bled from his limbs. His heart was still pounding—but he'd done it.
He let out a breathless laugh. "Now that's a proper send-off."
Skele padded to his side, bones faintly clinking, tail wagging like a metronome. He nudged Arwen's leg with his skull—an eager push, like asking What next?
Eleanor stepped forward, adjusting the clasp of Arwen's cloak one last time. "Remember, three steps ahead," she said gently. "That includes where you sleep tonight."
He smiled at her, then glanced between them all—his mother, his father, Alban, and the familiar warmth of home behind him.
And the open road ahead.
He turned toward the manor gates.
"All right, Skele. Let's go."
The skeleton dog yipped once, excited, and the two stepped beyond the gate—into the wind, into the wild, into whatever came next.
* * *
The first day of travel was peaceful.
Arwen and Skele moved through rolling countryside—lush fields swaying in the breeze, the rhythmic buzz of cicadas filling the air, and the occasional wild boar or rabbit darting past. Skele gave enthusiastic chase each time, bone tail wagging like a banner behind him.
Arwen let him. The skeleton hound looked like he was having fun, and it gave Arwen time to think.
Lately, Skele's affinity score had been climbing—slowly, but steadily. He wasn't sure if it was tied to time, battle, or emotion… but something about their bond was evolving.
By midday, they reached their first waypoint: a moss-covered stone marker labeled Whispertrail Fork.
A forgettable spot in the game world—unless you knew what lay nearby.
Arwen did.
He stepped off the road, brushing through some undergrowth, and smiled as he found what he was looking for.
A small herb patch hidden just behind the tree line.
"Just like I remember," he murmured, plucking sprigs of Verdleaf and Starroot—both rare low-tier ingredients used in Regeneration Potions.
Skele sniffed the plants curiously and sneezed.
"Don't eat them," Arwen said, chuckling. "They're for potions, not snacks."
That night, they made camp beside a quiet brook. Arwen cooked a light stew using dried meat and wild onions. Skele curled up near the fire, tail tapping lazily against the grass.
Arwen opened a fresh leather-bound journal and began writing.
[Day 1 — Valenwald to Whispertrail]
[Skele more energetic in open terrain. Possibly tied to undead affinity + sunlight exposure.
Mist Sense (Shared Skill) - Heighten ally perception and dull enemy sense.
Found Verdleaf patch and Starrot. Marked on map.
Reached camp without encounters. Progress good.]
As he closed the book, something flickered in the corner of his eye.
A shimmer.
Movement.
Just beyond the firelight, at the edge of the trees.
Arwen didn't flinch.
Instead, he stirred the stew, then carefully placed a small, lidded bowl of food on a flat stone near the tent.
Skele blinked, turned to the trees, and gave a single tail wag.
Neither said anything.
Arwen had noticed the signs since yesterday—shifting leaves when there was no wind, faint footfalls in the grass.
But most telling of all?
Skele hadn't raised a single alert.
Which meant—whoever was following them wasn't a threat.
Likely human.
Probably a thief.
Arwen smirked.
* * *
The next morning, the bowl was empty.
Beside it: a tiny footprint pressed into the mud.
Light. Precise. Someone trained to move like a shadow.
He wouldn't call them out.
Not yet.
The second day brought them closer to Elloria.
By afternoon, its stone walls came into view—tall and sun-warmed, flanked by wide windmills and proud banners.
But Arwen didn't take the main road.
Instead, he veered south—toward the forest. Toward a place barely known to players.
An old, abandoned chaptel.
Half-sunken, crumbling, swallowed by vines.
In Runebound Online, no NPCs ever spoke of it directly. But Arwen knew it held one of the earliest secret dungeons in the game.
And deep below, it guarded a powerful, dormant monster—one that tied into future world events.
Can I bond with it?
The thought thrilled him.
The chaptel door loomed before him—weathered, overgrown, and sealed tight despite its rotting frame. Arwen placed his palm against the worn wood and exhaled.
"Let's see if this works…"
He channeled a thin stream of mana through his hand. The faint glow spread into the cracks like veins of light.
Click.
Ancient runes briefly shimmered along the edge of the doorframe. Then, with a deep groan, the mechanism unlocked.
The chaptel creaked as the door slowly swung open, dust curling into the morning light like smoke from a long-dead fire.
Arwen stepped inside.
The air was thick with age—dry rot, mildew, and that strange stillness ruins always carried. Broken pews lay scattered across the floor, their once-polished surfaces warped by time. A cracked altar stood at the far end, draped in tattered cloth and silence.
He moved forward, footsteps soft, hand trailing lightly across the wood as he passed.
Then he paused.
His eyes scanned the far wall behind the altar. Amidst the crumbling plaster and ivy-covered stone, one section stood oddly clean. Intact. Untouched.
Too perfect, he muttered.
Approaching, he tapped the surface with his knuckles.
Hollow.
A grin tugged at his lips.
"Bingo."
He knocked again—harder. This time, the plaster cracked under his touch. With a faint crumble, the false wall gave way, revealing a narrow spiral staircase descending into darkness.
The air from below was colder. Undisturbed.
He glanced back over his shoulder once, then down into the depths.
"Let's see what you've been hiding down here."
He paused at the threshold, the first stair vanishing into the dark below.
Then he glanced over his shoulder.
"You coming?" he said—softly, almost to himself.
Maybe to Skele.
Maybe to the shadow he knew was out there.
He didn't wait for an answer.
With a steady breath, Arwen stepped into the stairwell, boots tapping against ancient stone.
Behind him, Skele padded after, quiet as bone on marble, mist curling in his wake.
* * *
From the treetops above the chaptel, the observer blinked.
A young girl with short black hair and a scarf wrapped over her face crouched in the branches, eyes wide with disbelief.
"…He found it."
She stared at the cracked wall and the spiral staircase now exposed, mist still curling at its edges.
"I've been tailing him this whole time. He never looked back. Didn't even scout the area."
Her heart thudded.
She was assigned to surveillance—ordered by House Elmwald to quietly guard their heir from the shadows.
She'd expected a sheltered noble. A first-time traveler with decent instincts, maybe—but no real experience.
Not this.
Triggering the entrance to a hidden ruin—one even seasoned adventurers tended to miss?
She blinked again, unsure if it was luck… or something else entirely.
Did he know? Or just… feel it?
Lila grinned beneath her scarf.
Her pulse quickened—not from duty, but from something deeper.
She had a dream. A secret one.
To become the greatest explorer in the realm. To dive into ancient tombs, uncover lost cities, and chase the kind of treasures whispered of in tavern songs.
And now, here was Arwen Elmwald.
Walking straight into an untouched ruin like it was just part of his itinerary.
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"…He might actually be fun to follow."
And with that, she slipped from the branch, vanishing into the chaptel like a shadow chasing a candle flame.