A place, a hidden dimension with extreme weather conditions—when it rains, places that once were land become lakes; when it snows, the world becomes a frozen tundra; when the wind blows, its sheer force sends giant trees flying everywhere, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. A place that our mysterious friend calls home.

  Eight years have passed, and Draven is now 19. He sits on a mountaintop with a raging waterfall next to him, holding a giant battle axe that rests on his shoulders. His eyes reflecting the sunset as you see how battle-hardened he has become. With age, he grew wise.

  Familiar footsteps can be heard from behind him.

  Angel: "You’ve been sitting there for hours. Have you finally mastered the art of always losing to me?"

  Draven's face twitches in frustration.

  Draven: "What do you mean!? I made you dodge once and I was just... thinking."

  Angel: (snorts) "Sure you did. Let me guess—thinking about all the great battles you’ll have once you leave this place?"

  Draven: (exhaling slowly) "…So it’s almost time, then?"

  Angel: "Midgard is waiting for you. But don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll be some unstoppable force when you get there. This realm kept you hidden, but it also kept you away from warriors that won't think twice to kill you." (glances at Draven) "You’re strong, but you’re not the strongest—not even close."

  Draven: "I figured. But that’s fine. I don’t want to be invincible—I want to see the world you always speak of, and seek out the purpose you say I have there, plus I cant wait to battle strong people."

  Angel: (grinning, slapping Draven on the back) "Good answer! Im glad you still remember our talks about Midgard. You’ll meet plenty of people there—warriors, thieves, nobles, killers… and women, Draven. So many women."

  Draven: (smiling) "I knew this was coming."

  Angel: (mock offense) "What? You think I’d let my only student go into the real world without at least some wisdom about the finer things in life?" (leans in, whispering) "The trick is to—"

  Draven:(laughing) "I swear, if you finish that sentence, I’m throwing you off this mountain."

  Angel: (laughing, hands raised in surrender) "Alright, alright. But seriously, Draven, when you get to Midgard, you’re going to feel weak. You’ll struggle. And if you want to survive, you’ll have to grow even more. This was just preparation—the real challenge starts the moment you step out of here." (pauses, his usual smirk softening) "Are you ready?"

  Draven: (silent for a moment, then stands, slinging his axe onto his back. His eyes reflect the shifting sky.) "I don’t know. But I’ll find out soon enough."

  Angel (staring into the distance): "I know that you are capable Draven so, remember your training in tough times. With that... (turns away) I will be taking my leave."

  Draven watches him go.

  Draven: "See you in six months."

  Angel smirks over his shoulder

  Angel: "Oh, and Draven there is something waiting for you deeper in the forest, you can finally fight it. Have fun."

  The angels laughter fades as he leaves.

  Then-

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  A deafening shriek rips through the forest. The ground trembles, trees shaking violently, flocks of birds fleeing into the sky almost if it's intention was to lure Draven to the depths of the forest.

  Draven's lips curled into a smile, his heart pounding steadily. He knew this beast was unlike the other creatures that roamed the realm. This one was different—stronger, more dangerous. The angel hadn’t just left; it had left him a final test, a monster powerful enough to push him to his limits.

  Draven (excitedly thinking to himself): "You gotta be shitting me. That cry... other times, it roared—now it's a shriek. That has to be its true voice(his eyes narrow) it's... heavy, I can finally fight it after all these years. I need to prepare."

  A few days passed. Draven reforges his axe, mended his armor, and ensured he had a backup sword. But there's something he knows he was forgetting.

  He journeys deeper into the forest, further than he ever has before. With each step, the air grows thinner, harder to breathe.

  Draven: "It's like im on a mountains peak."

  The earth smelled damp the ground breaking away from decay...

  Draven (serious): "Rot."

  THE WELCOMED GUEST

  Before Draven knew it, something fast was hurtling toward him. Instinct took over—he ripped his axe from his back and braced for impact. The force of the attack was relentless, driving him backward through a multitude of giant trees, their trunks splintering like brittle twigs.

  In the chaos, Draven caught a glimpse of what he was blocking—a massive, gaping maw. His muscles strained as he shoved himself aside, breaking free from the crushing pressure. Landing on his feet, he finally got a full view of his opponent.

  A gigantic snake.

  Draven (angrily, spitting blood): "That damn angel... he loves me so much. Look at this ugly thing."

  The serpent's body coiled, gliding across the earth like living chains. Its head rose—so massive that no beast Draven had ever seen could compare. Its dark scales shimmered with scarlet, lined with veins of sapphire blue, pulsing with power. Power that felt eerily familiar—something only the angel had ever radiated.

  Magic.

  The creature moved, coiling, watching, shifting its body. Then, it let out a shriek so powerful it sent shockwaves through the air, an unseen force crashing into Draven.

  Draven couldn’t move. Succumbed with fear.

  His hands and legs shaking.

  Then the serpent lunged.

  Its speed was unnatural for its size. Draven barely dodged, gripping his axe as he ran away. The serpent immediately gave chase, slithering with terrifying precision.

  Draven (glancing back while running): "That wasn’t normal fear… it did something to me."

  Little did he know, the serpent had another trick up its sleeve.

  A thick, poisonous gas began seeping from its mouth, spreading across the battlefield.

  Draven skidded to a stop, realization dawning.

  Draven: “It wasn’t chasing me. It was herding me.”

  His grip on the axe tightened. He turned, rushing toward the beast with no wasted movement, swinging for its head.

  The serpent barely moved—tilting its skull just enough for the blade to whistle past its face, missing by inches.

  Then, it shrieked again.

  Draven staggered. His vision blurred. His knees nearly buckled. His instincts screamed at him, and his mind burned.

  Then the serpent struck.

  Its sheer mass slammed into Draven’s torso.

  A sickening crack.

  Draven was launched backward, crashing into the dirt. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He rolled, coughing, feeling his ribs ache.

  The poison gas thickened filling the area.

  His heartbeat pounded. The poison was working, slowing him down.

  The snake advanced. It wasn’t in a rush—it knew Draven would weaken. It wanted him to struggle, to feel his body failing him.

  Draven coughed blood.

  FIRST SIGHTING

  Draven filled up with rage, thinking of the fact he might die even before he reached Midgard. But something arose within him—a hunger. A red aura pulsed violently from his body. Draven stood up with the help of his axe. It seemed as if his body was healing—all cuts and bruises vanishing slowly. A menacing expression contorted on his face.

  Draven felt more powerful and faster. All his battle senses were heightened, and unfortunately, so was his desire to fight.

  The snake lunged again.

  Draven didn't dodge.

  He stepped in, axe already swinging, intercepting the beast mid-motion. The blade bit deep into its jaw.

  The serpent screeched—not to attack, but in pain.

  Draven’s lips curled into something almost like a grin. A battle-hungry fire surged through his veins.

  It felt good.

  He yanked the axe free, his stance lowering. He could feel his pulse racing, his instincts flaring, his hunger to fight growing.

  The serpent reared back, sensing the change.

  But it was too late.

  Draven charged.

  The next exchange was pure violence. His swings came faster, sharper, every movement calculated and brutal. His axe found the serpent’s wounds again and again, tearing through its thick hide with surgical precision.

  The beast coiled, desperate now, trying to trap him in its massive body.

  Draven let it.

  The coils snapped shut—only to find empty space.

  Draven had already leaped above it.

  With a final roar, he brought the axe down onto the creature’s skull.

  The blade buried itself deep. The serpent convulsed, its body thrashing wildly. It tried to shriek again—but this time, its voice failed.

  The fear it had instilled in him—the creeping dread—it faded.

  The coils fell limp. The poison mist began to clear.

  Draven stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his axe. His hands trembled—not from exhaustion, but from something else.

  The hunger was still there.

  And it terrified him.

  It was something that, given the chance—would control him.

  Draven began walking away from the now-slain beast and fell to the ground, realizing that the poison still lingered within his body.

  He checked his pouch for medicine that would neutralize the poison’s effects or at least slow it down.

  Draven (chuckles): "That's what I was forgetting."

  As Draven tried to lay his head down, he remembered a lesson the angel had given him.

  Angel’s words: “Draven, knowing your plants and herbs can one day save your life—or your heart. But for heartbreak… drown in booze.” (laughs)

  Draven (steadily lifts his head): "I can't give up now. I don't want to die."

  Draven looked deeply into his surroundings, his eyes blurring more and more. Then, he saw a familiar sight—a medicinal plant from a book the angel had given him.

  Draven crawled toward the plant, mixing a few of them together and squeezing the bitter remedy into his mouth, swallowing it.

  Minutes passed.

  The pain faded.

  Draven let out a breath, then started laughing.

  He lived.