The Raven

The Raven — Part 1 (Refined English Version)

The bells were everywhere.

A metallic, endless toll that seemed to sink straight into bone.

Flames along the fortress corridors lit one after another, while mist slipped beneath the doors—as if the night itself had decided to invade.

Raven was the first to run.

Not out of duty.

Out of instinct.

Something deep in his chest told him the monsters weren’t heading for the armory or the watchtower.

The infirmary.

Where Arsham was.

He drew his sword.

A smoky, sand-like aura coiled around the blade—calm at first… then tightening, sharpening.

Like a breath held too long.

As if even the steel could feel what was coming.

The ground beneath him was frozen, yet Raven moved without a sound.

Like a shadow tearing through the cold.

From somewhere ahead—glass shattered.

Then a scream.

By the time he reached the building, the iron doors of the infirmary had been ripped clean off.

The walls were carved with deep, brutal claw marks.

Blood stained the snow outside.

But it wasn’t human.

It was black.

Monster blood.

Raven stepped inside.

Darkness.

Overturned beds. The stench of medicine drowning in rot.

And in the center of the hall—

Three monsters.

Tall, hunched shapes with cracked, charcoal skin.

They were sniffing the air.

Tracking something.

A scent.

Him.

One slowly turned.

White, pupil-less eyes locked onto him.

And then—something like a smile.

That was a mistake.

The first strike was instant.

Raven moved before thought.

His blade carved a dark arc through the air, smoke and sand bursting outward like a storm.

It passed straight through the creature’s body.

No resistance.

No sound.

The monster split in half before it even understood it was dead.

The second lunged.

Claws raked across Raven’s shoulder.

Warm blood slid down the blade.

For a moment, the sword hesitated.

Slowed.

Raven exhaled through his teeth.

“You’re not innocent… stay calm.”

The aura flared back to life.

The second head fell.

The third didn’t run.

It only spoke, voice broken and dry:

“The one with you… belongs to us… the doctor… belongs to us—”

Steel cut its words short.

Silence returned.

Only Raven’s breathing remained.

Heavy.

Fogged.

But the words stayed.

Belongs to us.

Why?

Why would a simple doctor matter this much?

Behind a broken door, something collapsed inside the room.

Raven turned.

Pushed it open.

And saw him.

Arsham.

Sitting behind an overturned desk.

Sleeve torn. Hand bleeding.

But alive.

His dark eyes caught the faint light in the room.

Not fear.

Not panic.

Just exhaustion.

Their eyes met.

Months of silence. Months of distance.

All breaking in a single second.

Arsham spoke softly.

“I knew you’d come.”

Raven frowned.

Why?

A pause.

Then—

A sentence that made the air feel heavier.

“Because… I’m not just a doctor.”

From far outside, beyond the mist, a roar rolled across the land.

Not one.

Not a few.

Dozens.

Maybe hundreds.

The ground trembled.

As if the entire monster realm had begun to move.

And they were all coming.

Toward Norval.

Toward him.

Raven tightened his grip on the sword.

For the first time—not as a hunter…

But as a shield in front of Arsham.

“From now on… you stay behind me.”

Outside, the darkness drew closer.

Closer still.