Missing

In the early hours, Roy was fast asleep in his warm blanket, dreaming of single-handedly taking down a griffin, a higher vampire, and an Elder Vampire, when a Mirror Merchant with an aquiline nose and a scabby head appeared before him.

Suddenly, a frantic pounding on the door jolted him awake.

"Susie, Old Mol, urgent, open up!" Roy scrambled up in a cold sweat to see his parents standing at the doorway with candles, while the burly Butcher outside wore a panicked expression, his voice trembling as he explained.

The night wind rushing in from the door blew away his drowsiness, bringing him fully awake.

What could have made that foul-mouthed Butcher lose his composure so badly? An answer flashed through Roy's mind.

"Uncle Fletcher, is it Brandon?" He threw on a thin linen shirt and walked over to the old couple.

Under the firelight, the Butcher's eyes were bloodshot, his lips cracked, and he paced like a cat on hot bricks, anxious and haggard.

"That little brat..." Fletcher hung his head, the hand gripping his torch and his beard trembling slightly. "He's gone missing. Didn't come home tonight."

"Have you checked Mindy's house? Could Brandon be sleeping over at a friend's place?"

Roy took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm. "What about the Old Captain Tavern? He goes there sometimes too."

"No one!" Fletcher shook his head. "I've searched everywhere, asked everyone! Since noon, no one in the village has seen him. The brat's mischievous, but he's never stayed out this late."

"Don't worry, Uncle Fletcher. Think carefully—where else could he have gone? We'll help you look!"

"You stay home and rest," Old Mol said, pressing a hand on Roy's shoulder. "Susie and I will go help!"

"Dad, don't forget what I've been doing this past month. I've seen more blood than most people see in a lifetime. It's just nighttime—I'm not scared." Roy's steady gaze swept over the old couple, and he squeezed their hands. "Trust me, I'll keep myself safe."

Old Mol and Susie exchanged a look, sighed, and nodded.

This month, they'd felt their son's change more and more clearly. Roy was no longer weak and withdrawn; he had his own ideas, and once he made up his mind, there was no talking him out of it with their temperaments.

The group surged out of the yard together.

Fletcher grasped his hand. "Thank you, son."

Roy felt the pressure and nodded. He'd seen how much the Butcher had looked out for him this past month; he couldn't just stand by.

Little Snot was Fletcher's whole world. If he lost that child, how heartbroken would he be?

Roy had felt that pain of losing a loved one before. He couldn't bear to see it happen.

Every house in the village was lit up. Not far behind Fletcher stood One-Eyed Jack, the blacksmith Pusig, the night watchman Thompson, and three honest-looking male villagers, each holding a torch. Some wore steel swords at their hips, others carried hoes or pitchforks—they were well prepared.

"This few people? The village chief isn't organizing everyone?" Roy felt a twinge of disappointment.

"Ah..." One-Eyed Jack tugged at his beard and sighed. "The older they get, the more they fear death. He said the wilds are unsafe at night and only agreed to send a search party in the morning. It wasn't easy to gather this many. We need to hurry—by tomorrow, even the salted fish in Skellig will stink..."

"Boss, don't pour cold water!" Pusig calmly glanced at the Butcher and offered a weak consolation. "Little Brandon probably just got lost outside the village. He's a clever kid. Goddess Melitele will watch over him."

But everyone there knew what a disappearance meant in a tiny village surrounded by wilderness, with so few people around. None of them wanted to say it out loud.

A chill ran through Roy's heart. He suddenly remembered how harshly he'd treated Brandon that morning.

If something happened to Brandon, he couldn't escape responsibility!

"No, I have to find him."

"Let's split into two teams, keep an eye on each other... Search east and west outside the village. Don't go too far. If you don't find anything, come back quickly." The night watchman divided Roy, the blacksmith Pusig, One-Eyed Jack, and the Butcher Fletcher into his own team, while Susie and Old Mol went with the three villagers to search the west.

"Dad, Susie, don't worry about me. With Uncle Blacksmith looking out, I'll be fine. You two take care of yourselves too!" Seeing their son's team better equipped, they nodded.

In the order of blacksmith, Butcher, Roy, tavern owner, and night watchman, the five of them, each holding a torch, stepped into the darkness beyond the village.

No one knew what dangers lurked in the dark, but the wilds of Xiabosada were never short of vicious wild dogs, wolf packs, and other ghastly things.

The autumn night in Aedirn was bitterly cold, the temperature near freezing, and Roy couldn't stop shivering.

A full moon hung high in the night sky, casting bright light. Strange calls echoed faintly from all around—like insects, or something else.

Under the moonlight, golden wheat swayed gently in the night breeze, and tender Hops plants rustled with a faint bitter scent, but there was no response.

The group first searched the farmland near Kaye Village, calling out Brandon's name without pause.

Even with torches and moonlight, their vision was severely limited. Most could only see clearly about ten feet ahead.

But that was only for ordinary people. Roy was surprised to find his vision was barely worse than in daylight; he could even see objects thirty feet away with perfect clarity.

He realized this was the vision enhancement from his 6 Perception—he hadn't wasted that point.

An hour passed. The five of them had searched every field in Kaye Village without finding a single clue. Their faces grew tighter, knowing that the longer they delayed, the lower the chance of finding the child.

Old Jack had been watching everyone's expressions. He suddenly stopped and asked again, "This aimless searching isn't working. Fletcher, think harder. Where could that kid have gone?"

The Butcher crouched down in pain, clutching his head. "The brat always talks about going to the big city to be a Bard, but he's never left this little backwater of Kaye. At most, he goes to the creek by the village to fish, but never far."

"I haven't kept my promise yet—to take him to Fangerburg, to Oxenfurt."

Roy sighed inwardly at that. After a moment, a thought crossed his mind.

"Uncle Fletcher, your wife—Brandon's mother—where is she buried?"

The Butcher's expression dimmed. "Anna died of whooping cough three years ago. She's buried at..."

"The cemetery!" The Butcher suddenly stood up excitedly. "Anna's buried in the cemetery east of the village. You think the brat might have gone there? I used to take him to visit every so often, but it's been a few months now."

"What are you waiting for?! To the graveyard!"

The place where Kaye Village's dead were buried was about three li east of the village, with a path overgrown by grass and shrubs connecting the two. The group sprinted along the road in the darkness, torches held high.

Roy ran breathlessly behind several grown men, sweat soon beading on his forehead. His stamina was slightly inferior to an adult's, but he couldn't bring himself to slow down a father worried for his child, so he simply gritted his teeth and pushed on.

Old Jack wasn't faring well either. He was well along in years and no stranger to alcohol on a daily basis, so his stamina was equally lacking compared to an ordinary man's.

After charging about a li out, Roy's left eyelid suddenly twitched. An inexplicable sense of alarm rose in his heart, and he couldn't help shouting, "Watch out!"

The moment the words left his mouth, several eerie green lights flickered abruptly from the dense, pitch-black thickets surrounding them.

No—they were pairs of pupils, like ghostly flames.

Accompanied by a cacophony of noise and low, suppressed growls, several hideous, menacing wolf shadows blocked their path under the moonlight.