Within the dark and mysterious Mongrul Forest, a group of hunters from the Refrvollr tribe carried out their daily hunt. Moving with stealth and precision, they remained hidden among the thick vegetation, waiting near the river for a pack of monsters that roamed this region.

  These men, heirs to ancient traditions, had perfected their hunting techniques over generations. They knew their survival depended on patience and striking at the exact right moment. Every breath was controlled, every step measured.

  The sound of the wind through the trees mingled with the murmur of the river in a hypnotic melody. The hunters remained in absolute silence, their senses sharp as their blades.

  Finally, the beasts emerged from the shadows: massive, bovine-like creatures, covered in bony plates with eyes glowing red like embers. The pack advanced with ferocity, tearing at the ground beneath them.

  Then, in a perfectly synchronized movement, the hunters unleashed their power.Ice-tipped spears rained down upon the monsters, freezing several instantly. The forest's dampness amplified the spell, causing the ice to cling to their bodies, turning them into crystalline statues.

  The rest of the pack, terrified, fled deeper into the forest. Ten of the creatures remained—some dead, others barely clinging to life.

  The hunters approached cautiously. With precise movements, they ended the suffering of the surviving beasts. Then, they proceeded to dismember them, collecting meat and useful materials with the efficiency of those who had done this a thousand times.

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  Hippo Bekker, the group's leader, gave the order to store everything in their magical bracelets—artifacts sent by his older sister. Though he had initially refused to use them, resentful of his father for neither attacking the kingdom nor rescuing his sister during the invasion years ago, he eventually accepted their usefulness.

  As they continued their work, a warrior burst into the clearing, panting and drenched in sweat.

  "—We're under attack! Quick, head back to the village!" he shouted.

  Hippo turned, alarmed."—What? Who's attacking us?"

  The messenger barely managed to reply while running toward another hunting party:"—It's Galdrok!"

  A heavy silence fell over everyone. The name alone chilled their blood. The last time this dragon had attacked, dozens of tribe members had perished.

  When they reached the village, chaos reigned. Invald, mounted atop his two magical beasts, unleashed torrents of fire at the enemy. Yet Galdrok—a dragon with dark blue scales and eyes like lightning—moved with impossible agility, dodging every attack with a roar that shook the trees.

  The warriors did what they could, but the dragon's power was overwhelming. At a critical moment, Galdrok inhaled deeply and released a freezing breath that obliterated half the village, encasing warriors and huts alike in ice.

  When Hippo arrived, the first thing he saw were bodies scattered across the ground, covered in frost. The air smelled of blood and burnt wood. The screams of survivors echoed in the distance.

  Galdrok, enraged, roared:"—You cursed insects! You brought that demon into my forest?"

  Invald, bewildered, gasped out:"—Demon? What are you talking about, Galdrok?"

  The dragon emitted a deep growl but did not answer. Surrounded, it beat its wings violently and soared into the sky, disappearing among the clouds.

  Invald mounted his Wyber and launched a final burst of fire, but Galdrok's speed was unmatched. All he could do was watch as the dragon vanished, leaving behind a trail of ice and devastation.

  Staring at the horizon, Invald clenched his fists."—Damn… 'demon'? What did he mean by that?"