The sky hung heavy and gray, autumn rain drizzling endlessly. The air reeked of damp decay.

Aelina stood atop the stone tower, her starry eyes widening slightly as she peered past Fro. "Run!" she screamed.

A supernatural creature of death materialized behind Fro, wreathed in eerie green ghost-fire. The air turned knife-cold. Fro twisted around. "A Wraith!" It was a horrifying woman—tattered, yellowed white dress clinging to a half-rotted body. Patches of skin had sloughed off, revealing brittle yellow bone beneath. Twin pits of blazing green fire burned where eyes should be. Her face resembled a skull draped in dead leather. Her nose was crushed into a dark, gaping hole, exhaling frigid mist. Half her upper jaw was shattered, and a slick, wet tongue slithered from the jawless maw, writhing so close its tip grazed his nose. A wave of putrid, icy breath seared his nostrils.

Though mouthless, she wailed in agony. Bloodied claws slashed toward Fro. He instinctively swung his sword to block—but a monstrous force deflected the blade. Claws scraped his chest plate with a metallic shriek. A burning pain flared across his chest. He stumbled back, glancing down to see three deep gashes.

The Wraith attacked wildly, utterly defenseless. Fro seized the opening, thrusting his sword backward. The blade passed straight through her flickering, translucent form. Shock froze Fro’s face. One moment, he felt like he’d rolled naked across frostbitten grass; the next, he plunged into a furnace. Neither sensation compared to the terror of his attack failing. He’d never faced an enemy untouched by steel. A warrior without a weapon was no better than a chick. Fro’s situation was worse—he was trapped between the Wraith and a sea of rabid hounds, with nowhere to run.

Just as panic seized him, a calm, lifesaving voice cut through: "Run to me!" Fro grasped at the words like a lifeline. He barely dodged the Wraith’s wailing strikes, twisting to look at Aelina. No miracle awaited—only the dog-choked tower. Aelina stood firm atop it, a Giant Crossbow beside her firing relentlessly into the distance. "Now! Run here!" she commanded, each word sharp with impatience. Trusting her, Fro sprinted toward the Silverhaired Maiden. Dogs blocked his path. A stone wall loomed. The Wraith’s claws might tear him apart any second. Wait—his scalp prickled. He flicked his green eyes back. A wet, pink tongue was licking his pointed ear.

"Help! Aelina!" he bellowed.

"Armor off!" The Silverhaired Maiden raised her strange Magic Wand. A pale blue beam shot forth, dissolving Fro’s clattering Full Armor into smoke—not just the armor, but every metal object on him except his sword.

Unburdened, Fro’s speed surged. His elven ears cleared the Wraith’s tongue. Before he could catch his breath, two bull-sized rabid hounds charged—one leaping high, the other low. No armor. The Wraith still at his back. Stopping meant death.

He couldn’t pause for half a step.

Fro gripped his sword with both hands, holding his breath as his father taught—to steady the strike. His eyes locked onto the bloodshot eyes of the lead hound.

Strike!

The blade arced upward in a perfect curve. The forte—the sword’s strongest, sharpest section—sliced cleanly under the hound’s jaw, cleaving through its sturdy skull, splitting the cranium like ripe fruit.

"Follow through!"

The blade surged again. Fro seized the pommel, driving it down. Steel bit deep into the second hound’s spine. Its body flipped midair, crashing to the ground. The sword felt suddenly light. Fro’s heart hammered back to life. Scorching air flooded his lungs. He’d survived. Now it was Aelina’s turn.

To Aelina, numbers danced around Fro like fireflies. Calculating angles and velocity, she amplified her power as he leaped for the stone wall. The tower’s base dissolved instantly, forming a staircase before the wall. The Golden Ape understood. He vaulted the wall, scrambled up the steps, and launched himself upward—just as a crimson rabid hound, summoned by a whistle, shot like lightning up the dog-pile. It soared toward Fro mid-jump. Fro’s eyes widened at the gaping maw of fangs.

Whoosh! An arrow outpaced the crimson streak, impaling the hound’s eye. But its dying momentum slammed into Fro. Claws snagged him, dragging him from the sky.

Fro’s fingertips brushed the tower’s edge—then slipped. He clawed desperately at the stone as silver hair receded above him. The snarling chorus below threatened to swallow him whole…

A rope with a noose dropped from above, snapping tight around his flailing hands. His body slammed against the tower wall. A colossal force yanked him upward, wrenching his arms until they felt detached.

The tower top rushed up. He tried to climb, but the rope bound both wrists together. Like a hooked fish, he was hauled over the edge.

"You’re heavy," the Silverhaired Maiden panted. Half the Giant Crossbow had vanished, replaced by a winch—a well-pulley mechanism. Fro realized how she’d managed such strength. She released the handle, raised her Molecular Reconstructor, and dissolved the rope and winch into smoke.

"You saved me just in time," Fro said, standing. He was glad he hadn’t dropped his sword. Before the calm Silverhaired Maiden, he forced his fear down, smoothing his expression. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his panic.

"We’re safe now," Aelina said, as casually as if lighting a campfire on a picnic.

The words died on her lips. Fro saw ghostly green flames rise behind her. The tongue-lashing Wraith floated at her back. His forced calm shattered. "A-Aelina! Behind you!"

The Silverhaired Maiden didn’t turn. She grabbed Fro’s arm and leaped into a hole that had opened in the tower’s center. Weightlessness made Fro scream. He looked up. The Wraith’s ghastly face filled the hole—flaming eye sockets, crushed nose, lolling tongue. Bloodied claws reached for him. Then—blue light. The face vanished. Darkness swallowed everything.

He crashed onto hard ground in the pitch black. His hands flailed, brushing something soft. A cold voice snapped: "You touched my chest!"

He looked up. Glowing golden eyes stared back. He grinned sheepishly, fumbled for his sword, and stood.

The space was cramped and sealed. The Wraith’s wails and the hounds’ snarls vanished, replaced by the girl’s steady breathing. His head throbbed faintly. Still—being alone with Aelina felt blissful. If only the space were tighter. Standing, he realized Aelina was nearly his height. Perhaps taller.

"How did you dig this hole?" the Elf blurted, desperate to break the awkwardness.

"I built the tower hollow," she said. "Stay calm later. Don’t scream."

"Haha, why would I?"

The moment he spoke, faint blue light banished the dark. Rustling sounded behind him. Fro turned. A desiccated man’s face pressed almost against his nose. Empty eye sockets stared blankly. A fat, white maggot reared up from one socket, waving dozens of tiny legs.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

Fro’s scream echoed in the cramped space. He spun and clutched Aelina from behind. Several sharp knocks to his head made him let go.

"W-What is that?"

Three figures now crowded the tiny chamber: two living, one corpse propped against the wall. Aelina held an oil lamp. Materials from her pack could craft wondrous things. She didn’t need the lamp—but Fro did. She refused to let that foolish, timid ape take advantage again. Disgusting. His desire value had already spiked six points.

Aelina examined the wolf-head emblem on the corpse’s neck. "Someone key to defeating the Wraith," she replied. "Greetings, Demon Hunter."