The snow had not yet claimed the world. Pale winter sunlight struggled through the skeletal canopy, casting fractured splinters of gold across a carpet of sodden, decaying leaves. A fragile silence gripped the woods—a stillness that felt as brittle as dry glass.

  That silence was severed by a shadow.

  Ronen moved with the fluid grace of a predator. Though he looked barely twenty, his amber eyes scanned the treeline with a weary alertness that belonged to an older man. A leather gambeson hugged his lean frame, worn over travel-stained tunics designed for silence rather than style. His utility belt was a cluttered orchestra of survival: waterskins, a notched whetstone, a jagged skinning knife, and a small canvas pouch. Embossed on the pouch was a snarling white tiger—the sigil of the White Tiger's Fang.

  He was a mercenary, through and through.

  Ronen froze. His boot remained poised mid-air, avoiding a dry twig with practiced instinct. Sinking into a low crouch, he drew a dirk from his waist. He used the flat of the blade to peel back a layer of damp leaves.

  Beneath lay a mound of viscous, pungent waste.

  A faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He prodded the waste with the tip of his blade, examined the texture, and then glanced at the surrounding trunks. Without looking back, he raised a hand and flashed a sharp, decisive signal.

  Three figures materialized from the gloom, closing a semi-circle around him with the quiet efficiency of ghosts.

  "Status?" Shug whispered, his voice barely a vibration in the cold air.

  "Look at this," Ronen replied, his voice a low rasp. He pointed the dirk at the waste. "Silver-Back dung. Still steaming. The beast is close." He gestured toward the churned earth nearby, where heavy, cloven hoofprints marred the mud. "It's a heavy one. It won't be able to move through these dry leaves without screaming its location."

  Shug's eyes lit up. His hand drifted to the hilt of his shortsword. "Finally. Let's run the bastard down."

  Ronen's hand clamped onto Shug's wrist like a vice. "Patience. They aren't high-threat, but they're skittish. If you spook it into the deep thicket, we'll be tracking it until the moon rises." He looked at the group, his gaze hardening into leadership. "Shug, take Paven and flank the left. Josh and I will take the right. Don't engage until you hear the Long-Tail warble. We strike from all four sides."

  Shug rolled his eyes but didn't argue. "Always so cautious, Ronen. It's a pig, not a dragon. But fine—lead the way."

  With a curt nod, the party split. Ronen and Josh dissolved into the shadows of the eastern treeline, moving like ink dropping into water.

  Once the trail was caught, the hunt became a grim rhythm. They followed the rhythmic gouges in the earth, the pace quickening now that the prey had a shape. Ronen pushed through a dense thicket of frosted brambles, and there it was.

  The Silver-Back was a mountain of muscle and spite. Seven feet of bristling, metallic-white fur, standing nearly as tall as a man's waist at the shoulder. Its most lethal feature—a pair of ivory tusks curved like scimitars—gleamed with a cruel light as it rooted through a patch of frozen berries.

  Ronen recalled the Bestiary entries: Silver-Back Boar. Hazard Class: Two Stars. It was a threat to a lone traveler, but manageable for a coordinated squad. Yet, in the mercenary trade, arrogance was a death sentence. Caution was the only thing that kept you breathing.

  Ronen caught Josh's eye and gave a sharp nod. Josh stayed back, readying his bow.

  Ronen dropped to his belly, slithering through the brush until he was positioned directly upwind of the beast. He blended into the grey bark and white frost, becoming part of the landscape.

  He pressed two fingers to his throat. A clear, trilling birdcall drifted through the trees—a perfect imitation of a Long-Tail sparrow.

  The boar snorted, its small, red eyes darting around. It paused, snout dripping with berry juice, then decided the sound was harmless and returned to its meal.

  A second warble answered from the far side of the clearing.

  The net was closed.

  Ronen didn't hesitate. A faint, pale gold shimmer flickered in his pupils—a spark of inner Ether. He surged forward, his shortsword clearing the scabbard with a hiss. He wasn't just running; he was a blur of lethal intent.

  The boar shrieked, a sound like grinding metal. With surprising agility, it heaved its massive bulk backward, the steel blade whistling through the space where its throat had been a second before.

  Realizing it was trapped, the beast lowered its head and charged, those wicked tusks aimed straight for Ronen's gut.

  Clang!

  Steel met bone. Ronen parried the charge, but the sheer kinetic force sent a shudder through his marrow. His boots skidded across the frozen mud as he was forced back. The beast was stronger than the reports suggested.

  "Hold your breath!" Shug's voice rang out.

  Shug leaped from the brush, hurling a glass sphere the size of an egg at the boar's feet. It shattered, releasing a thick, sickly-sweet violet mist.

  The four mercenaries instantly pulled their collars over their faces, surrounding the cloud but keeping their distance.

  "Are you joking?" Ronen hissed, his eyes tracking the dark silhouette staggering within the smoke. "Those sleep-bombs cost a fortune, Shug. We're going to spend the entire contract reward just replacing the gear you use to finish it!"

  "The warehouse was full of 'em," Shug shouted back, grinning behind his mask. "They're too weak for the big monsters and too expensive for the small ones. I wanted to see if they actually worked before they rotted!"

  Inside the mist, the mountain of silver fur began to sway. Its angry grunts turned into heavy, labored wheezes. The sleep-bombs were designed for common beasts—effective on the weak, but unreliable against solitary, high-resistance males like this one. Still, the toxin was taking hold. The creature's massive legs buckled, and it finally collapsed with a bone-jarring thud.

  "See? Easy work," Shug bragged, drawing his dagger as he walked toward the fallen beast to deliver the coup de grace.

  But as he reached out, the world shifted.

  The boar's eyes snapped open—not dull with sleep, but burning with a frenzied, drug-resistant rage. Its head lashed out like a whip, the tusk aimed directly for Shug's chest.

  "Move!"

  Gold light flared in Ronen's eyes again. He moved faster than the eye could follow, grabbing Shug by the collar and yanking him backward just as the tusk tore through the air. In the same motion, Ronen's blade bit into the side of the boar's head, sparking against the bone.

  "Solitary males have higher resistance!" Ronen barked. "I'll draw its ire! Cut the tendons!"

  Josh and Paven moved in a practiced blur. Their blades hummed with a faint blue glow of infused Mana, bypassing the boar's natural armor. Blood sprayed the snow as the beast let out a harrowing scream.

  The boar turned its full fury on Ronen. It reared up, its tusks coming down like twin war-hammers. Ronen didn't meet the blow. He spun, letting the tusks shatter a fallen log instead, and flicked his wrist. His throwing knife buried itself deep into the boar's right eye.

  Shug, recovering from his shock, charged back in with a roar of embarrassment. "You ugly bastard! That almost cost me a rib!" His longsword came down with the weight of his anger, biting deep into the creature's neck.

  The combined weight of the poison and the wounds finally broke the beast. It turned, trying to hobble back toward the darkness of the trees.

  "Don't let it bolt!" Ronen commanded.

  Two flashes of steel followed. Josh and Paven hamstrung the beast in perfect unison. The Silver-Back crashed to the earth, its breath hitching into a final, wet rattle.

  Ronen exhaled, the gold light fading from his eyes. He leaned a hand on Shug's shoulder. "Finish it. Properly this time."

  "On it," Shug muttered, raising his blade high.

  As the sun began to bleed orange across the horizon, the four of them emerged from the treeline, hauling the massive carcass on a makeshift sled.

  Waiting for them in a clearing was Wolf. Unlike the younger men, Wolf was a veteran who wore his history in the silver at his temples and the jagged scars on his forearms. A thick fur mantle sat on his shoulders, pinned by a brooch featuring a sapphire as deep as an ocean drop—a jewel that seemed oddly delicate against his weathered features. Embossed on his chest was the same snarling white tiger.

  A shortsword hung at his waist in a worn leather scabbard, though it was clearly not his primary weapon. A massive five-foot greatsword leaned against his wagon, looking more like a structural beam than a weapon. Two horses grazed lazily nearby, indifferent to the day's violence.

  "Look at that!" Wolf roared, his laughter echoing through the valley. He stomped forward and ruffled Ronen's hair into a chaotic mess before nearly knocking Shug over with a heavy pat on the back.

  "Uncle! Easy! You're gonna break me!" Shug wheezed.

  Wolf chuckled, his eyes moving to the boar. "A fine specimen. Did you get the tusks?"

  "Cleanly removed," Ronen said, handing over the ivory trophies. "The Guild will accept these as proof of the kill."

  "Good lad. You always were the sharp one," Wolf said, stowing the tusks in the wagon's hold. "Load up. It's a long ride back to the hall, and you lot look like you've crawled through a gutter."

  The wagon was cramped, so the younger mercenaries ended up sitting directly on the boar's carcass. The outer guard hairs were like needles, but the undercoat—the "Moon-Silk"—was incredibly soft, making for a surprisingly comfortable ride.

  Ronen rode his horse alongside Wolf at the front.

  "Take a look at this," Wolf said, pulling a crumpled parchment from his vest and tossing it to Ronen.

  Ronen caught it, noted the mischievous glint in the veteran's eye, and began to read. His heart skipped a beat. "Uncle... this is a contract for Glory City? This is for me?"

  "Surprise! I fought like a rabid dog to get you on this one," Wolf said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You've been itching to see the capital, and I need a pair of eyes I can trust. This is your final trial, Ronen. Prove yourself here, and you're no longer an apprentice."

  "I won't let you down!"

  "Shh!" Wolf hissed, gesturing to the others. "The Captain wants to announce it tonight. Pretend to be surprised, alright? Don't make me look like a gossip."

  "My lips are sealed."

  "Good. But listen," Wolf's voice turned serious. "It's a scouting mission, but it's in the North. Don't let the pay blind you. The North eats the unwary."

  Ronen gripped the parchment, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the first mountain peaks pierced the sky. "I've been waiting for this for a long time, Uncle. I'm ready."

  Client: Lapsus Merchant Circle

  Type: Exploration & Investigation

  Hazard Level: UNKNOWN

  Status: OPEN CALL

  Summary:

  The "Eye of the Blizzard" tower, funded by the Lapsus Circle, ceased all magical and courier communication thirty days ago. Fourteen individuals, including high-ranking mages, research apprentices, and our own Circle representatives, are missing. The situation is dire.

  Given the severity and potential danger of this incident, the Lapsus Merchant Circle is formally assembling an elite investigation team to travel to the Frostlands, uncover the truth, and search for survivors.

  Primary Objective:

  Reach the Eye of the Blizzard tower and determine the cause of the communication blackout and personnel disappearance.

  Secondary Objectives:

  ?Locate and rescue any survivors

  ?Recover critical research materials and Circle assets

  ?Document any threats or anomalies encountered

  Assembly Point:

  Glory City, Crimson Moon Inn, Scarlet Suite

  Departure Date: To be determined upon team finalization

  Reward:

  Total compensation: 50 Gold Sovereigns

  Upon signing the contract, each selected team member will receive an advance payment of 10 Gold Sovereigns. Should the team successfully recover designated critical items or intelligence, the Circle will provide additional substantial bonuses commensurate with their value.

  Contact:

  Alice Rowling, Senior Representative

  Lapsus Merchant Circle

  (Footer embossed with a delicate golden coin and open book emblem)

  Common Name: Silver-Back Boar

  Scientific Name: Argentum Sus

  Classification: Magical Beast / Mammal / Artiodactyla

  Threat Level: ★★☆☆☆ (Moderate threat to trained adventurers)

  Size: 5-7 feet in length, 3-4 feet at shoulder

  Weight: 300-500 lbs (solitary males are typically larger)

  Appearance: Covered in metallic silver-white fur. Outer guard hairs are needle-like and provide excellent defense; inner layer consists of dense, soft "Moon-Silk" undercoat with exceptional insulation properties.

  Weaponry: Curved ivory tusks used for combat and rooting. Due to scavenging habits, tusks often carry bacteria from carrion, causing infected wounds.

  Habitat: Dense forests, particularly areas with thick undergrowth

  Diet: Omnivorous with scavenging habits; feeds on berries, roots, fungi, insects, and carrion

  Social Structure: Lives in groups of 10-30 individuals; highly sensitive to the scent of blood, sometimes attracted to battlefields or hunting sites

  Temperament: Notoriously short-tempered. Solitary individuals, lacking the security of a pack, become extremely anxious and aggressive, charging any moving object on sight indiscriminately.

  Threat Level Interpretation: ★★☆☆☆

  While rated as two-star difficulty—meaning a fully equipped and trained warrior can handle one—this does not mean they should be taken lightly. Additional risks include post-combat infection from tusk wounds.

  Primary Attack Method: Charges with tusks; possesses surprising speed and devastating impact force

  Combat Strategy:

  ?Do not engage head-on; use trees, rocks, and terrain for evasion

  ?Target flanks and hind legs; flanking provides safer attack angles, and striking hind leg joints effectively limits mobility

  ?Wounded or cornered individuals enter berserk state with significantly increased strength and speed—this is their most dangerous phase

  The Silver-Back Boar is considered a "treasure trove" among adventurers:

  Guard Hairs ("Silver Bristles"): Outer layer of coarse hair. Can be processed into durable brushes, used as arrow fletching, or woven into armor for enhanced cutting resistance.

  Moon-Silk: Inner layer of soft down. Premium textile material; garments made from it are lightweight, warm, and exceptionally comfortable—highly valued in noble circles and markets.

  Ivory Tusks ("Jade Ivory"): Extremely hard tusks. Can be ground into powder as alchemical catalyst or carved by craftsmen into ornaments and dagger hilts.

  Marbled Meat: Due to the boar's activity patterns, the meat is rich in fat with beautiful marbling. When roasted, it is succulent and flavorful—recognized as a premium delicacy.