Blood and entrails are launched indiscriminately as a monster feasts, its person-length reptilian head thrashing wildly. It is a creature of a size rivalling a noble’s carriage- the apex predator of the marsh. Few people unfortunate enough to encounter it have lived to tell the tale, the dangers of this region being the primary reason that the marsh is a place one must obtain a permit to enter.

  The creature, known as a Ripjaw Thrasher, pauses its meal, the head of the beast flicking to the left. It hears only a quiet rustle and so scans the area to ensure there is no threat, assuming such a thing exists in the first place. Seeing nothing, it turns away and resumes eating.

  A distance away stands a man staring down the monster, a longbow taller than himself drawn and aimed. He releases the string and it accelerates. As the arrow is loosed, it flexes around the wood of the bow, while the bowstring bounces back and snaps in twain. The projectile stabilises quickly, flying straight. It travels through the air for three seconds, narrowly passing by the trunks of a great many trees, before arriving at its target.

  The Thrasher barely has a fraction of a second to react as it notices the approaching missile. It does not manage to move in time before being struck.

  The scales of the creature, ever so renowned for their durability, give way immediately as a hole is punctured right through its head. Pink, red and white matter spurt violently from the entry point.

  The arrow continues, moving through the softer internals, before exiting from the posterior of the once-ferocious monster. It falls to the ground as blood spills out, clouding the thin layer of water surrounding it.

  The man lets out a long exhale.

  Holding his bow to the ground and stepping his leg over its now stringless form, he takes out a length of twine from his belt-pouch. He hooks it onto the lower limb easily, then stretches it to the upper limb, his arm shaking from the stress. Eventually, he manages it and hooks it onto the upper limb as well.

  “Bow restrung,” he thinks aloud.

  He straps the bow on his back at an angle and trudges over, the journey taking almost five minutes. Looking down at the corpse, he examines his work.

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  “Good shot, it went right through. There is little left for me to improve in this aspect. It noticed me, however. I must increase my stability further next time.”

  As he reflects upon his shot, he hears footsteps from directly behind him. He whips around, his fist hurtling towards whatever is there in an attempt to take the first strike. When his brain catches up to his instincts, however, all he sees is an unarmed man with short, brown hair. Just as the man is about to take the punch, a wall of earth erupts from the ground, blocking it. The man behind the wall speaks.

  “Hunter Fenn. I did not mean to startle you. I ask that you listen to what I have to say.”

  Grimacing and shaking the debris off his fist, the bowman replies, “How do you know my name, and who are you? Answer me quickly or I will shoot you as I did this creature.”

  As he says this, Hunter dashes around the wall to see… nobody. He hears the voice of the unknown man behind him again.

  “Hey, hey. Calm yourself, I'm not going to hurt you.”

  He swings again, only for his fist to be caught easily by the man's hand, despite his ordinary appearance.

  “Last chance, Fenn. Seriously.”

  Finally relenting, Hunter steps back with his hands raised.

  “Fine. I doubt I could beat you,” he admits. “What do you want?”

  The man smiles widely.

  “First of all, you can call me Novus. Second, you have sound judgement. Third, I have come to collect you.”

  Hunter's eyes narrow and his right hand moves slowly to his bow, but he does nothing hasty and simply replies.

  “I am under nobody’s command. I intend to remain here and continue my training, not follow some weasel to who-knows-where.”

  Novus shakes his head.

  “You misunderstand. This is no call of subordination. The Terras family has learned of your existence after you saved one of them recently from a Droopstinger.”

  This elicits a small sigh from the bowman.

  “This young man reported that a powerful earth mage resides in the marsh, and now they want you to join their family.”

  Hunter opens his mouth, stunned for several seconds, before replying.

  “I'm not looking to marry.”

  A moment of silence passes before Novus breaks out into hearty laughter.

  “No, that's not what they mean. They want to essentially hire you as a branch leader. Help them out and, in return, receive knowledge from the premier scholars of earth. So, what do you say?”

  Novus waits for a response, which finally comes after a whole minute of deliberation.

  “I'm interested. My magic is lacking compared to other areas.”

  “Great!” Novus replies. “I'll see you on the other side.”

  “Wait, what do you-”

  The brown-haired man dashes forward in the blink of an eye. His hand glows a bright blue and he places it on Hunter’s forehead, faster than he can even react.

  “-mean…”

  The archer feels his body fall slack and his vision darken, Novus’ uncanny smile being his final sight.