The air around Walter Grefen was thick with tension. His heart hammered in his chest, but his face remained steady as he knelt beside another teenage girl—Wendy, who was another one of the missing children who the search party had found. She was trembling, her eyes wide with terror, a haunted look in them that sent a chill down his spine.
"Take a deep breath, Wendy," Walter said softly, his voice calming. "I need you to tell me everything that happened. Slowly, okay? I promise we'll find your friends, but I need you to help me understand."
Wendy's breath came in short, rapid bursts. She kept glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting the terrifying creature to appear at any moment. It took a long moment before she could gather herself enough to speak coherently.
"I... I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice shaking. "It... it happened so fast. We... we were just following Tilly. He said there was something... something deep in the forest we had to see. He was always... always the one to lead us into things, even when we knew it was dangerous."
Walter nodded, urging her silently to continue.
Wendy swallowed hard, her eyes staring blankly ahead as if seeing it all again. "He... he pulled out this scroll. It was old—looked strange. He unrolled it... and started chanting something. I don't know what he said, but it was... dark. The air grew cold, and then the monster—oh, gods—the monster... it came out of nowhere. It was huge, its eyes—those eyes... I can't even... describe them properly. It was like it was made of shadows, but... but it had power, real power."
She paused, her hands shaking as she gripped the fabric of her torn sleeve. "And then Tilly... Tilly just... smiled. Like he was in control of it, like he summoned it."
Walter's face grew pale. The words Wendy spoke hit him like a physical blow, leaving him stunned for a moment. He struggled to maintain his composure, but it was clear from the twitching of his hands and the clenched jaw that this revelation was shaking him to his core.
"Describe the scroll," Walter pressed, his voice much quieter now, barely holding back the growing dread. "What did it look like?"
Wendy's eyes darted down to the ground as she tried to focus. "It was... long. The edges were frayed, like it had been used before. And the markings... the runes on it... they glowed with this... red light, like fire. It wasn't normal. The paper was... was rough, old... but the words were clear. I think... I think Tilly was using it to control the monster, but something went wrong... something changed."
A deep, cold shiver ran through Walter as he clenched his fists. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
The scroll.
That scroll.
It was a family heirloom, something passed down from generations of Grefens, kept locked away in his own personal stash, treated as the most prized possession. He'd never intended for it to be used by anyone—not by his son, not by anyone. It was meant for emergencies, for a time when Walter felt he was facing a desperate life threatening situation—not to be squandered by a foolhardy boy who didn't understand its power.
And now, his son—Tilly—had used it to summon something unspeakable.
Walter's breath hitched. His hands trembled, the weight of realization settling over him like a suffocating blanket. The scroll was a Tier 2 scroll. Though not one of the highest but still one of the more dangerous tiers of magic. Tier 2 magic was not something to be trifled with. In the world of Virela, magic was divided into Tiers ranging from Tier 0—basic spells—to the most devastating Tier 6 magic, capable of destroying entire cities or reshaping reality itself.
Tier 2 magic was often reserved for the high level mages, used only in desperate situations. Its power was great, but it came at a cost. It could summon creatures from beyond the realm, pull them into this world, bending reality itself. To wield such power without proper understanding could bring about unpredictable disasters.
Walter cursed under his breath, his mind racing. The sheer recklessness of Tilly's actions sent a surge of anger through him. But more than that—more than the betrayal of trust—Walter could feel a gnawing fear take root in his gut. If the monster had already been summoned, what would happen next? How much more destruction could it bring? Was it still out there, hunting?
He looked at Wendy, his voice strained but steady. "Did you see where Tilly went after the monster appeared? What happened to him?"
Wendy shook her head slowly, her eyes glazing over with the memory of the nightmare. "No... no, he... he was just standing there. After the monster started... moving, Tilly... Tilly wasn't in control anymore. It attacked him. I—I tried to run, but the last thing I saw... was the monster turning on him. I think... I think it killed him."
A pained gasp escaped Walter's lips before he could stop himself. His son... dead?
No. No, it couldn't be.
"Where is the monster now?" Walter asked, his voice a low growl. "Tell me, Wendy. Where is it?"
Wendy swallowed hard, her eyes unfocused, still seeing the nightmare. "It... it didn't follow me. I ran. I don't know where it went. But it's still out there. You have to find it."
Walter stood up, his eyes hardening. He clenched the hilt of his sword with white-knuckled determination.
"Prepare the teams. We move out now," he barked, his voice unyielding. "The monster is still here, and if we don't find it, it will destroy everything."
As the search party began to mobilize, Walter couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread. The creature had been summoned—and if it was still in the forest, no one was safe. But what was worse was the realization that his son had been the one to bring this terror into their world. The weight of that knowledge bore down on him with an intensity he had never felt before.
And as they set off deeper into the forest, Walter knew that the stakes had just been raised beyond anything they had ever prepared for. The monster was no longer just a threat—it was a consequence, one that Walter was now forced to confront, no matter the cost.
---
The dim light of the torches flickered against the dense forest backdrop as Walter Grefen's mind churned with a mix of disbelief and burning fury. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, the magical runes along its blade pulsing softly with the power imbued into it. He had seen countless magical weapons in his time—his own was a Tier 1 weapon, a symbol of his position and strength in the village. But nothing, nothing could compare to the power of what his son had wasted.
Walter knew well the price of magical equipments in Virela. Magical equipments weren't things you just learned from books or spells; they had to be imbued. Runes were the very foundation, the essence, the carriers of magical power. They were etched with painstaking precision into weapons, armor, and equipment, each rune representing a different Tier of magic. It was this imbuement that transformed the mundane into something extraordinary. And each Tier had a vast difference in power.
Tier 0 magic was the most basic—so small that it was barely perceptible. Simple cantrips, elemental sparks, basic utility spells—harmless, often used by the most unskilled mages.
Tier 1 was where true power began—its magic could heal wounds, enhance strength, summon storms, and even shield entire villages from small-scale attacks. It was potent, but it still had its limits, bound by the laws of nature.
Then, there was Tier 2—the difference between mere skill and mastery. Tier 2 magic was strong enough to summon creatures from other realms or shape entire landscapes with a single spell. It was volatile, dangerous, and often wielded by powerful mages.
Walter had witnessed the power of Tier 3 magic only once in his life—an event that still haunted him. It had come from kilometers away, and the chaos it unleashed was something he would never forget. The ground had cracked open, trees were uprooted in an instant, and a storm of destructive energy had swept across the land. It was a power that could level mountains, rip through armies, and erase entire regions from existence.
But that was Tier 3—the stuff of legends, of unimaginable power. What his son had used... was a Tier 2 summoning scroll. A tool capable of bringing unimaginable horrors into the world—horrors that couldn't be controlled once released. Walter had been entrusted with that scroll by his father, the last of his line to hold it. It was meant for emergencies, for use only when all other options were exhausted. And yet, his own son had wasted it, using it recklessly, without a second thought, without even considering the consequences.
Walter's jaw tightened as he clenched his sword even harder, the runes glowing faintly in response to the pressure. His son's stupidity had just unleashed an unspeakable terror on the land, a terror that now threatened everything Walter had spent his life protecting.
He could still remember the day his father had handed over the scroll to him. The old man had been frail, his hands trembling as he placed the heavy parchment in Walter's palms. "Guard it well," his father had said in a weak voice. "This is the legacy of our family... the legacy of power that cannot be squandered. Remember, boy, the power of summoning magic is too dangerous for the foolish to wield."
Walter had promised that he would never misuse the scroll, that he would protect it until the time came when it could be used to protect himself or a family member—not like this. Not for some childish act of bravado or recklessness.
The rage bubbled up within him, hot and suffocating. How could Tilly, his own flesh and blood, have been so careless? What had possessed him to even consider using the scroll? Had he not understood the weight of its power? Was the danger not clear? The creatures that could be summoned were not toys—they were nightmares.
Walter stopped in his tracks as the realization hit him fully. His son had summoned a creature. A creature that Walter had not even begun to comprehend. What if it was out of control? What if it was killing right now, wreaking havoc on the forest? Walter could only pray that Wendy's description of the monster—that it had turned on Tilly—meant his son had somehow survived, or at least that the monster was distracted enough to leave him in some semblance of safety. But he couldn't count on that.
His thoughts whirled back to the Tier 2 summoning scroll. A weapon, an artifact, so precious it made even Tier 1 weapons seem like children's toys. Summoning magic was the most volatile and powerful type of magic. Even those who could wield it needed extreme care and control. If you couldn't control the summoned entity, it would consume you. And if Walter's son had failed in his attempt to control the creature...
Walter's face twisted with disgust and regret. He could feel a coldness creeping through his veins—an icy realization that something far darker than he had ever imagined had just been unleashed.
"Why, Tilly?" Walter muttered, his voice hoarse. "Why did you have to be so reckless?"
The air around him seemed to grow colder, as if the forest itself were reacting to his fury. As the search party continued deeper into the woods, Walter's heart grew heavier with each step. The scroll had been entrusted to him for a reason—to protect, not to unleash terror. And now, his son's actions had set in motion something that could not be undone.
"Find the monster," Walter ordered his men, his voice colder now, sharper. "Find it before it destroys everything."
The search party moved in a tighter formation, each step now purposeful, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on them all. But Walter knew, deep in his heart, that even if they found the creature, even if they managed to kill it, the true cost had already been paid. The scroll was gone, wasted on a reckless whim. And his son? He might already be lost.