Edoran awoke with a groggy start. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it barely reached his tired mind. His hair stuck up on one side, disheveled from a restless night. Even with the daylight creeping in, the image of Jake's lifeless eyes followed him, a haunting presence that never seemed to fade.
"It was my fault."
The guilt was suffocating. He could try to deny it, but the truth was clear. Jake had died because of him. He should have listened. He should have done something to stop it. But now, Jake was gone, and all Edoran had left was the unbearable weight of regret.
He dragged himself out of bed, his feet heavy against the cold floor. No desire to wash up, no need to look presentable—everything felt pointless now. As he stumbled down the hallway, his gaze fell upon the clean, spotless walls. It all felt so foreign, as though they belonged to someone else.
Before he could spiral further into his thoughts, a maid appeared, walking briskly toward him. She stopped and bowed.
"Edoran, Master Harold has asked that you come to his study once you wake up. Please follow me."
Edoran nodded silently, too lost in his own world to protest. He followed her to Harold's study, a room filled with books and the scent of ink. Harold sat behind a large desk, scribbling away on papers, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever. It was as if the events of the day before hadn't shaken him in the slightest.
"I've brought Edoran, Master Harold," the maid announced before leaving them alone.
Harold finally looked up, his eyes meeting Edoran's. For a split second, there was a flicker of something, a hint of weariness buried deep beneath his controlled exterior. But it was gone before Edoran could fully process it.
"Did you sleep well, Edoran?" Harold asked, his tone casual, almost too casual for someone who had just lost a comrade. "We need to start working on hunting savages. We also need to recruit more soldiers."
Edoran's blood boiled. He wanted to scream, to lash out at Harold for sounding so indifferent. What about Jake? What about the man who had fought by his side, who had trusted him?
But instead, he clenched his fists. "What about Jake?"
Harold's gaze hardened, though his voice remained steady. "What about him? It was my fault as much as yours. If we stopped because of his death, we'd be dishonoring him. He would never want that."
Edoran's chest tightened, but he couldn't deny the truth in Harold's words. Jake wouldn't have wanted them to stop. He would have wanted them to keep moving forward, to continue the fight. But the anger still bubbled inside him, a storm he couldn't control.
Harold moved on quickly as if the conversation was already over. "We need to prove our worth as a company. Hunting savages will show that we're effective. I've arranged for agents to provide information on tier-1 savages in Verdantia. We'll need to focus on them."
Edoran's mind whirled, still stuck on Jake's death. But Harold didn't notice. "Until then, you should train. There are still seven lesser savages left in the training room. Absorb their cores and work on your martial arts and survival."
The thought of going back to that room filled Edoran with dread. The memories of Jake's final moments were still fresh in his mind, but he knew he had no choice. If he wanted to survive, he had to keep going. No matter the cost.
Harold's voice softened as if trying to offer comfort. "Edoran, I know you didn't want any of this. But sometimes, we don't have a choice. This is how it is now."
Edoran wanted to scream, to throw everything in Harold's face. But instead, the collar around his neck tightened slightly, a subtle, yet unmistakable reminder of his place. "He's right," the collar seemed to whisper. "You can't escape this. You belong to him now."
That thought settled in his chest like a cold stone. It was true. There was no running away. No going back. The collar had seen to that. Harold wasn't the reason he was stuck in this mess; the collar was.
Edoran nodded stiffly. "Fine."
Harold's eyes gleamed with something that might have been satisfaction. "Good. Now, let's get started."
The training room was quiet when they arrived, the echoes of past battles still lingering in the air. The blood from Jake's final fight had been washed away, but the memory remained, like a shadow that refused to leave. Seven cages lined the walls, each holding a savage that would soon meet its end.
Edoran moved forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The collar around his neck pulsed softly, a constant reminder of the power he now held—or rather, the power that controlled him. It was as if the collar had a life of its own, whispering commands to him, urging him to keep going.
"Kill them," it seemed to say. "Become stronger. This is your purpose now."
He didn't hesitate. One by one, he dispatched the savages, each kill adding to the strength coursing through his veins. The energy from their cores flowed into him, and with each new surge, he felt more powerful. More unstoppable.
After the final savage fell, Harold approached, holding a digital pad. "I've located three savages with commercial value," he said. "We'll focus on them first."
Edoran barely looked at the screen. His mind was still clouded with thoughts of Jake, but something about the collar's whispers kept him moving forward. "Focus. Focus on what you need to do."
One of the images caught his eye: a wood tiger, tall and menacing, walking through a nearby forest. It was a massive creature, made entirely of moss and wood, and something about it sent a shiver down Edoran's spine.
"That's a wood tiger," Harold explained, "but we won't engage it yet. Our first target is the blood anteater."
The next image showed a smaller creature, its fur a deep crimson. The anteater's tongue lashed out, dripping a toxic substance that burned anything it touched.
"The blood anteater is a fleshspawn lesser savage," Harold continued. "It's not as strong or fast as others, but its toxic tongue can be deadly."
Edoran nodded absently, but his thoughts were on the wood tiger. He knew they would have to face it eventually. "We'll deal with it later," the collar whispered, its voice smooth and persuasive. "Focus on the blood anteater first. Prove your worth."
Before Edoran could voice any objections, Harold handed him a contract. It was simple—eight-hour workdays, training included, and 10% of the profits from any savage he hunted. But it was the last clause that caught his attention.
"In the event of my death, 50% of my shares will be transferred to the chief Reverberator, Edoran."
Edoran stared at the words, disbelief creeping into his mind. "Why would he offer me this?"
The collar's voice was softer this time, coaxing. "He trusts you. You're his only ally. Sign the contract."
Harold chuckled at Edoran's stunned expression. "Don't worry," he said, his smile sharp. "You're the only one I can trust."
Edoran's hand moved almost on its own, signing the contract without fully understanding why. The collar urged him onward, pushing him to make the decision.
"Great," Harold said with a satisfied smile. "Now, let's get moving. The blood anteater won't wait."
Edoran donned the armor Harold provided. It was thin, lightweight, and uncomfortably fragile. He turned to Harold, skepticism written on his face.
"How is this armor supposed to protect me?"
Harold smiled again, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry. It's made from the shell of a crowned white rhinoceros. It'll withstand most tier-2 attacks."
"You'll be fine," the collar whispered. "You're stronger than you think. Nothing can stop you now."
Edoran's hesitation faded, replaced by a strange sense of confidence. "Yeah. I can do this."
They climbed into the ORV, the vehicle roaring to life as they headed toward the blood anteater's location.
When they arrived, Edoran's pulse quickened. The blood anteater was a small creature, no larger than his waist when standing on its hind legs. But it wasn't the size that unsettled him—it was the way its tongue lashed out, its eyes glowing with predatory intent.
The creature attempted to charge, but it was no match for the ORV. Edoran leaped out of the vehicle, the collar urging him forward. "Kill it. Prove your strength."
His wings, dark and sharp, burst from his back as he activated the savage's abilities. With a powerful leap, he soared through the air, dodging the anteater's toxic tongue. He slashed through the air, deep lacerations cutting into its neck. The beast stumbled, blood pouring from its wounds, and Edoran knew it was over.
The final blow came swiftly, and the blood anteater collapsed.
Harold approached, a cage in hand, ready to transport the corpse.
But before they could celebrate, a voice interrupted them.
"Who permitted you to hunt savages in this zone? This is the territory of the Red Giants corporation."
A girl with red hair, dressed in grey armor, stepped forward, her blade gleaming in the sunlight. Beside her stood a tall, menacing figure, his wild blue hair almost glowing with intensity.
Harold's expression darkened, but he stood his ground. "This is a no-man's land," he replied coldly.
The girl raised her blade, charging at Harold. Edoran reacted instantly, his wings parrying the strike. He punched her hard in the stomach, sending her crashing to the ground.
But the man with the wild hair was faster. He stepped forward, his hands outstretched, and blocked Edoran's next strike.
"I'm sorry for Kara's actions," the man said, his voice calm and measured. "We didn't want any trouble."
He lifted the girl and walked away, leaving Edoran and Harold standing in stunned silence.
Harold let out a sigh of relief. "You did a good job today. I'll pay you tomorrow."
Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he added, "Hey, Edoran, do you want to go to the savage market with me?"
Edoran felt his mind whirl, but the collar's voice whispered again, urging him onward.
(You need to go. It's your next step. Trust us.)