The journey began in weary silence. Kyrrha fastened the silver bracelet again, the shimmer swallowing her crimson skin and horns, leaving only the fierce human woman. She glanced at Daniel, whose eyes behind the mask were fixed on the southeast.

  “We have hours until nightfall,” she said. “Do you want to sleep first? Rest your eyes?”

  “I hate sleeping,” Daniel replied, his voice flat. “And I won’t sleep until we’re there.”

  So they walked.

  The landscape unfolded like a scar. The blighted woods gave way to skeletal trees—tall, thin, and leafless, their bark peeling in long gray strips. Every dozen trees, one bore deep, vertical gashes, as if clawed by something enormous. Animal signs were scarce: a few rodent burrows, the distant cry of carrion birds. Not a single fruit-bearing tree. It was a land surviving, not thriving.

  By the time the woods thinned completely, the sun was a dying ember on the horizon. Before them stretched dry, cracked earth, and in the middle of it sat the settlement.

  It was wooden, palisade walls sharp against the twilight. Torches flickered atop watchtowers. As they approached the main gate, two human guards stepped forward. Their smiles were wide, practiced.

  “Travelers! Welcome to Hope’s Respite!” one said, his teeth too white in the gloom.

  The smile twisted something in Daniel’s stomach. It wasn’t cruel. It was commercial. The smile of a merchant selling rotten fruit.

  “The tavern’s straight ahead,” the other guard gestured with false warmth. “Madam Lorna’s. Best stew in the borderlands. She’ll have rooms.”

  They passed through the gate.

  Inside, the settlement was a pantomime of peace. Buildings were neat, paths swept clean. Flower boxes hung under windows, bursting with colorful blooms. Laughter floated from a well—real, joyful laughter. People chatted in doorways, sharing stories, their faces lit by lantern light.

  It was perfect.

  It was wrong.

  Daniel’s eyes scanned, cataloging. The laughter came from adults. The stories were told between men and women. He saw no demihumans. No children playing in the streets. Not a single one.

  The tavern, “The Gilded Stein,” was warm and loud. The smell of ale and roasted meat washed over them. A plump, rosy-cheeked barmaid with a too-bright smile hurried over, followed by a large, jolly-looking man wiping a tankard with a cloth.

  “New faces!” the man boomed. “Welcome, welcome! I’m Borin, this is my wife Lorna. What can we get for you fine folks?”

  Daniel’s voice was low, devoid of warmth. “Give us something that has meat. And a room. Two beds.”

  He didn’t wait. He placed five copper coins on the table for the room, and three more for the meal. Before anything arrived.

  Lorna’s smile tightened, just for a blink. “Oh, you needn’t pay upfront, dear. Most folks pay after.”

  Daniel’s masked face tilted toward her. “It’s against my personal principle. Paying after.”

  A beat of silence. Borin chuckled, sweeping the coins away. “A cautious man! Wise in these parts. Very well! Sit, sit. Your food will be right out.”

  They took a table in the corner. Daniel’s back to the wall, eyes on the door, on the kitchen entrance, on the stairs.

  The wait was short. The one who brought their food was not Lorna or Borin.

  A young demihuman boy, no older than ten, shuffled out from the kitchen. He had the tawny, spotted fur and large ears of a hyena lineage, though one ear was notched and scarred. On his head, he balanced a wooden tray bearing two bowls of thick stew and a loaf of dark bread. He moved with careful, silent steps, his eyes downcast.

  He placed the bowls before them without a word. As he turned to leave, Daniel’s hand moved almost on its own—a brief, instinctive touch to the back of the boy’s head, where human would meet neck, a gesture almost like checking…

  The boy flinched violently. “Ouch!”

  Daniel withdrew his hand instantly. On his gloved fingertips, a faint, fresh red smear.

  The boy scurried away, disappearing into the kitchen shadows.

  Daniel stared at his fingers, then at the kitchen door. He said nothing. He picked up his spoon and ate. The stew was good. Rich. Full of meat.

  Kyrrha ate with her usual vigor, but her eyes kept flicking to Daniel. She’d seen the blood. She’d seen his stillness.

  After the meal, Borin personally led them upstairs. The room was small, clean, with two narrow beds and a single window overlooking the dark alley below.

  “Sleep well, friends,” Borin said, his smile still plastered in place. “You’re safe here.”

  The door closed. Kyrrha immediately stretched out on one bed, making herself comfortable with a sigh.

  Daniel didn’t move toward the other. He leaned against the wall beside the door, his arms crossed.

  Kyrrha propped herself up on an elbow. “You said you wanted to sleep once we got here. So come on. Lie down.” She patted the empty bed, a teasing, tired smile on her face.

  Daniel’s voice was a whisper so low it seemed to blend with the settling night. “We are the main dish here.”

  Kyrrha’s smile vanished.

  His crimson eyes, glowing faintly behind the mask’s slits, held hers with dead seriousness. “So get ready.”

  He reached over and snuffed out the single candle on the bedside table. The room plunged into darkness, save for the thin sliver of moonlight through the window.

  Time passed in absolute silence. An hour. Maybe two.

  Then, from the hallway outside, came the sound.

  Not a knock. Not a voice.

  The soft, wrenching creak of a floorboard under careful, shifting weight. Then another. And another.

  Steps. Clothed. Trying to be silent. Stopping just outside their door.

  Daniel didn’t move from his place against the wall. In the dark, his hand found the familiar, cold weight of the dagger he’d taken from the demon hunter.

  The lock on the door gave a faint, metallic click.

  The main dish was about to be served.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The five figures entered with practiced silence, their shapes dark against the dim hallway light. They converged on the beds, hands reaching to yank back the blankets—

  Only to find crumpled pillows. Empty beds.

  "Sleeping drug didn't work on them?" one whispered, panic edging his voice.

  The slaughter began in the dark. Daniel moved like a shadow given teeth. The dagger flashed, crimson painting the walls. One man managed to stumble back into the hallway, scrambling toward the stairs.

  Daniel was on him before he reached the third step, pinning him face-down against the wood.

  A familiar, disgusted voice cut through the chaos. "Tch. They can't even make it without making noise."

  Lorna stood at the foot of the stairs, a crossbow in one hand, a lantern in the other. The warm, matronly mask was gone; her eyes were cold as river stones. She saw Daniel atop her man, raised the crossbow—

  A blade flew from the dark corridor.

  It was thrown by Kyrrha.

  Borin, emerging from the kitchen, saw his wife fall. Saw Daniel walking down the burning stairs, his mask reflecting the flames.

  He didn't scream. He moved.

  Into the kitchen. Out again, dragging the hyena demihuman boy by the neck, a knife to the child's throat.

  "Don't come closer! I'll slit his throat!" Borin backed toward the tavern's rear exit, his eyes wild. "GUARDS!"

  They came pouring in—not just tavern brawlers, but armed guards and hunters, their friendly smiles replaced by professional lethality. They formed a wall, letting Borin escape with his hostage.

  The blood bath began in earnest.

  Kyrrha joined Daniel, leaping from the upper floor, having finished her own grim work upstairs. "Go save the kid! I'll handle these underlings!"

  She became an agile warrior, carving a path through the guards. Daniel moved like water through the chaos, following Borin's trail out into the night.

  The settlement's pretty streets had become a warzone. Men emerged from houses, from shops, their weapons drawn. Daniel fought through them all—not with skill, but with something worse: inevitability. Each strike was economical, final. He wasn't fighting to win; he was removing obstacles.

  He saw Borin disappear into a large house at the settlement's edge. Followed.

  The smell hit him first, even before he crossed the threshold. Sweet-rot and waste. The house was a shell, its main floor empty. A trapdoor stood open, stairs leading down.

  The underground warehouse was a vision of hell.

  Barrels lined the walls. Cages held human and demihuman children—thin, hollow-eyed, silent. A slave pen dressed as a storage room.

  Borin was at the far end, frantically stuffing gold coins and jewels from treasure chests into his pockets. He saw Daniel approaching, grabbed the hyena boy again, pressing the knife harder.

  "Leave the kid," Daniel's voice was strangely calm, "and I swear I won't kill you."

  They circled the room, Daniel stepping carefully over the sleeping forms of other children. Borin backed toward the exit, his eyes calculating. Then, with a sudden heave, he tossed the child toward Daniel.

  Daniel caught the boy mid-air, his arms wrapping protectively around the small, trembling form.

  "Are you okay, little one?"

  The boy looked up, tears cutting lines through the dirt on his face. "I knew you could save us. So I removed the drugs from your food."

  Daniel patted his head, his eyes never leaving Borin. That's when he saw it—the object Borin had pulled from his pocket while Daniel's attention was on the child. A ball of animal skin, tied tight, a fuse smoldering.

  It arced through the air, landing among the barrels.

  Daniel didn't think. He shoved the child away with all his strength, sending the boy tumbling toward the stairs. Then he ran—not away, but toward the bomb.

  He was almost there when the world turned white.

  The explosion tore the warehouse apart. Wood, stone, and earth erupted upward. The house above vanished in a fireball.

  In the middle of the crater, Daniel stood burning.

  His clothes were gone. His skin blackened and cracking. Yet he made no sound. He simply knelt, wreathed in flames, as the fire suddenly snuffed out—not dying, but suffocated, as if the oxygen itself fled from his presence.

  Kyrrha arrived at the crater's edge, her human disguise torn, one arm hanging limp. "What happened here—" Her eyes found the blackened figure kneeling at the center. "Daniel?"

  She rushed toward him.

  BANG.

  The shot took her in the shoulder, spinning her around. Borin stood at the crater's rim, holding a strange, metallic weapon that smoked. "Otherworlders created perfect weapons for folks like us. No magic. No talent needed."

  He walked toward the kneeling Kyrrha, his weapon aimed. "I'm going to enjoy this—"

  "Well, well." A new voice, bored and superior.

  A group of well-armed adventurers emerged from the smoke—high-level, their gear glowing with enchantments. Their leader, a man in silver-trimmed leather, looked at Borin with disdain. "I told you to keep a low profile. This is what you get for being greedy. Do you know how long it's going to take to wrap up your mess?"

  Inside Daniel's mind, the world had gone red and still.

  Laughter echoed—familiar, cruel. His copy stood before him, not as an enemy this time, but as a disappointed reflection.

  "You haven't changed, Daniel. You're still in between. You had every proof to burn this settlement to the ground, but you played along. And paid the price."

  The copy stepped closer, its face a mirror of Daniel's own ruined features. "You were never wrong for choosing the best. It was the world—before and after—that had to change. Or be annihilated."

  It leaned in, whispering now. "You pathetic, miserable get. Get up. Show them who you truly are on the inside."

  Its final words were a roar that shook the foundations of his soul:

  "A MONSTER. GET UP, MONSTER."

  Kairosi-o Benai Naros... ( the song of the savior)

  Ta mai-o, na erath-th. (From ash-o, a breath was drawn-breathe-PAST.)

  Ta pa-o, dari erath-th. (From death-o, a will/courage was born.)

  Kor tera-o isho, kor ka-o daron, (But by light's scheme not, nor by creation's plan,)

  Kor rai-o kesath-th en. (But by the dream's breaking-change-PAST in.)

  One of the silver-clad adventurers approached the kneeling, burned figure. "Just finish it," he sighed, drawing his glowing sword.

  He swung for Daniel's neck.

  Thorny vines erupted from Daniel's shoulders—not growing, but manifesting, deflecting the blade with a shower of sparks.

  Daniel's head lifted. His eyes, crimson through the mask's slits, found Kyrrha.

  "Rise."

  The silver bracelet on Kyrrha's wrist shattered. The disguise fell away like shattered glass. Her true form returned—crimson skin, four arms, the proud horn. She roared, a sound of pure demonic fury, and launched herself at Borin.

  The fight was short. Brutal. Four arms against one man with a strange weapon. She didn't just kill him. She unmade him.

  En pa tarenoth-th esh kelath-th! (Through death he-walked and price-paid!)

  Kelath-th! (Paid its cost!)

  Yaren-o tash en, shao merath-th! (Memory's thorns with, soul-his embossed-marked-PAST!)

  KORUS: Shao merath-th! (Soul embossed!)

  Daniel's body was changing. The thorns weren't covering him—they were him. They wove a new form: four arms of living bramble, a crown of thorns upon his forehead, a demon-shaped effigy of vengeance. He was neither human nor demon now, but something else entirely—the Unauthorized Man given flesh.

  Shera kath! (Behold the Sign)

  Shera ta shao lareo kath! (Behold the on hand-his mark!)

  Naroso kath ta bareno land-o! (The-mark of those who lost-land-of!)

  Tera-o isho kor, renai-th! (By no god's plan, he-reborn-came!)

  BENAI NAROS! (THE UNAUTHORIZED MAN!)

  He moved. Not with speed, but with inevitability.

  The high-level adventurers tried to fight. Spells flashed. Blades sang. But the thorns drank their magic, shattered their steel. Daniel wasn't fighting them; he was pruning them.

  Reisi kor-esh darim arath-th! (Let faithless and doubting rise-afraid!)

  Kor benai naroso kaira-th, (For the Unauthorized Man who-strikes,)

  Barena ira-th: SOINA-O BAREN! (Shall-know: The Forgotten's-Wrath!)

  Lonas-o mai, sha-o keis kor, (Cities-to ash, tongues-to silence,)

  Ta soina-o bareno kestra-th! (By the Unfulfilled's vengeance-desire-PAST!)

  Kor naros ena, shera benai naroso lare, (But you who stand, where he now stands,)

  Ta bareno soi, shao lareo nath... (Who from his dust, take into hands...)

  Soenir kor sha kor benath-th. (Lost and spurned you-will-not-be.)

  KOR: SOINA-O KESATH-TH RENAITH! (FOR THE LOST SHALL CHANGE-REBORN!)

  OBLIVARA-O TERAA KESATH-TH! (OBLIVARA'S GATES SHALL BE UNSEALED-CHANGED!)

  TERA-O NA LARE SHERATH-TH! (THE WORLD-TREE'S ROOTS SHALL BE HEALED!)

  RA SOINA! (WE WERE THE FORGOTTEN!)

  ENATH... RA BARIS! (NOW… WE ARE THE SHIELD!)

  Where each man fell, something grew. Not flowers. Not grass. Gnarled, thorned trees erupted from their corpses, blooming with dark, fleshy petals that smelled of copper and regret. The settlement became a garden of horrors.

  The battle ended not with a climax, but with silence. The last scream faded. The last tree finished growing.

  Kyrrha moved through the eerie grove, searching. She found a small form near the crater's edge—the hyena demihuman boy, unconscious but breathing, his left arm bleeding badly.

  "He's alive!" she shouted, tearing cloth from her own garment to tie a tourniquet.

  She looked up, seeking Daniel.

  The thorn-monster stood motionless in the center of the settlement-turned-grove. Then, slowly, the vines began to fall away, then they left behind the burned, scarred man.

  He walked toward Kyrrha and the child, stepping over roots that had once been men.

  Around them, the settlement of Hope's Respite was no more. In its place stood a forest of memorials, each tree a testament to a life that had chosen cruelty. And at its center, three survivors: a demoness in her true form, a child who had risked everything for hope, and a man who was no longer between anything.

  He had chosen. He had become.

  The Unauthorized Man had arrived.