Becoming Legend

The Alghoul scrambled across the desolate area of the forest, and the man in shining armor followed. Leaving Ned and a mischief kid who calls himself Grant.

With his tower shield, Sir Edwin thwacked the Alghoul to bits and pieces. Fouling dark-flesh made the barren ground its canvas, painting an abstract image.

Finally, it was over, a Grade A Monster doesn't stand a chance against a Royal Knight, to top it off, a Gold Level Hunter.

At first, Ned was confused, was it the attitude that made the Were's to be brusque and rigid? Or was it just a show of power. Either way, it is meaningless, cause looking at the Were in front of him, curled like a puppy, gasping for air, and whole-body shivering. The Weres, were, after all, humans in the base form. Able to feel fear.

With Grant trembling at the corner, Ned started to scour what's left with the dead bodies. Eventually, he found a metal straight bow strapped at the back of a man, who Ned thought was familiar. "Blacksmith sir," Ned muttered, putting his arms across his chest, bent and bowed slightly.

Ned carefully examined the longbow, a bit more than a meter in length, limbs are tillered in a C shape and with only one curve. He deduced that the bow was made for a long-range shot and stealthy attacks. With a brown leather strap attached to the back of the dead blacksmith, Ned yanked the quiver and counted the arrow that was left. More than a dozen, almost full, it wasn't even used.

"You, you, you! I know you! You're the kid with the sword, with the cat, my Master saw it all," Grant's rough voice broke Ned's focus on the bow. "Master, my Master, he ran, he left."

His trembling voice was accompanied by his hands jerking left and right, not just his hands. His pale dark eyes were looking down sometimes away. Not even once, he looked at Ned. Seconds later, Grant breathes rapidly, rubbing his throat, he was gasping for more air.

"Kid, you're in shock," Sir Edwin said while he played the Alghoul's claw in his fingers. He's a hunter after all. A kill must be rewarded. He waved his hand, and the dark claw vanished in his hands. Appearing at the dark forest, Sir Edwin walked approaching Ned and the shook Grant.

"Shock? No! I'm not!" cried Grant, who was totally in shock. "My master said he will be back, he's from a guild, at the Capital, he belongs to the best guild in the Capital! He won't leave us!"

"You mean this?" said Sir Edwin. Throwing a bloodied arm, appeared to be from a man.

The limb was torned unrecognizable. The only finger left was the pinky and ring finger. The rest was, well, must be inside that Alghoul's abdomen.

Attached on the ring finger was an insignia of a guild. Under the bliss of the moonlight, the ring lit recognizable, especially right in front of the kid Grant. The symbol was embossed with a dragon head, on its side were sword marked with unknown engravings.

"Headhunter Guild," Sir Edwin said. "They're a guild of hoodlums, they remained as a guild because of their efficiency when hunting magical creatures. Aside from that, they're full of brigands who does nothing but an inn fight."

"No!" Where'd you get this good sir?" Cried, Grant. Knees on the ground while he was trying to pull the ring insignia off the dead man's arm

"Alghoul's," replied the Knight. "He will return no more."

Fidgeting with the finger, Grant eventually pulled the ring. Blood sleeked on his hands while he tried to clean the ring. keeping the ring on his pouch, he lifted the arm, closed to his chest, and started to hug the arm. "Master! No! Why!"

Grant was lucky, the ghoul was hauling him instead of killing. The Alghoul's appetite must be fussy, it wanted its feast to be alive. The back of his green leather clothes was the only one that was torn apart and Grant remained unscathed.

Ned remained stood, but alert. The place they were now was a nest after all. And Ned knew sooner or later, more ghouls will appear. Just like the rest, they will appear with a living diet for sure

"Kid shut up," Sir Edwin said.

"No, Sir Knight, my Master will not hear me if I kept quiet, he's alive for sure. It's just his hand. Just a hand, I'm sure—"

Before he could finish his words, Sir Edwin struck Grant's nape. Thudding on the ground, he fell on bended knees. His butt remained skyward. And saliva dripped out his gaping mouth.

With the kid fell to slumber, Sir Edwin whistled with his fingers, two long whistles, and one long pause. Moments later, a creature appeared, making a beastly shadow on the ground, blocking the shaft of the moonlight. With its wing almost ten feet wide, the creature hovers above the sky before it landed beside the Knight.

Leaves rustled, and lightweight rocks flew as the creature flapped its wings once more.

As the creature remained steady, under the bright of the moon. Ned recognized what it was, wings and head that of an eagle, and a body of a lion. Exactly like the Earth's mythology. A Gryphon gawked its eyes on the dead bodies that scattered the barren land.

"My steed," said Sir Edwin.

Ned nodded but remained silent, analyzing the beasts right in front of him. Ned saw the foot was exactly that of an eagle, bigger and stronger. But its color will decide its Grade. The white foot was below grade D. Grade B was brown. With aging, and evolving its foot will turn Golden, just like the one Sir Knight had. Grade A. A formidable one. Ned nodded once again, impressed by Gryphon's domineering aura.

Brushing its feather, sir Edwin ordered his steed to carry Grant back to the port where the ships remained docked.

Without a second delay, the Gryphon flapped its wings, lifting its lion body like it was a feather. He hovers once more, gripped Grant's butt with its right foot. And drifted at the midnight sky.

The straight bow's metal shaft glimmered with silver and white, strapped behind Ned's back. Ned locked the quiver together with the bow, with the butterfly hanging on his waist, Ned traversed the dark woods, with worry wandering his thoughts.

The two reached the orphanage with minutes counted on their thoughts. The sight made Ned's heart beat rapidly.

The shelter was two storey high, a wooden door piped with some iron edges. The door was perfectly balanced with six windows on each side. Atop the entrance was a balcony of stones, a good spot for someone who was talented with a bow. The old medieval orphanage remained steady amidst the chaos. Chaos brought by dozens of ghouls storming and encircling the shelter.