Forsaken Hunter-Chapter 17: "The Weight of Promises"

Hospital Room - The Night Before

The hospital room hummed with a sterile drone, a faint buzz prickling Beno's ears as his eyes fluttered open. His vision blurred—a haze of dull light bleeding into stark white walls, edges melting into a fogged mirror. Pain lanced his skull—jagged, like glass shards twisting deep—drawing a wince from his cracked lips.

His body felt tethered, heavy chains pinning him to the bed.

A shadowy figure sat beside him—still, carved from the dim glow of a bedside lamp. As his sight sharpened, Charles's face emerged—sunken eyes, dark circles etched deep, exhaustion seeping from every line. He hadn't slept. Not a flicker.

Beno's throat scraped raw as he croaked, "You okay?"

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Charles flinched—yanked from a dark abyss, his crimson eyes blinking in surprise. A weary smile ghosted his lips, faint and hollow. "Should be asking you that," he murmured—voice soft, trembling beneath a fragile mask.

Beno exhaled—shaky, pushing against the mattress. His limbs screamed, heavy as lead, and he slumped back with a groan. "I'm okay..." He paused—brows knitting. "What happened to the cultist?"

Charles's face darkened—a shadow flickering, gone in an instant. "Goblin King ate 'em," he said, shrugging with practiced ease. "I handled the goblins and the King."

The lie slid out—smooth, silk over steel.

Beno's gut twisted. Memories fractured—slipping like sand, elusive and jagged. Something felt off, a whisper gnawing at him, but before he could dig, a new voice cut through.

"Hmm... My mom used to say that, y'know. Karma will haunt you back." Karama leaned against the doorway—arms crossed, his usual bravado softened, sensing the room's brittle edge.

Charles twitched at "mom"—a jolt in his jaw, fingers curling, trembling briefly before stilling. His eyes darkened—storm clouds rolling in.

"Charles..." Beno's voice thickened—guilt clawing up his throat. He hesitated, then forced it out. "I'm sorry. I let your sister die."

Charles hissed—a sharp breath through clenched teeth, head turning away, jaw tightening until it pulsed. Silence crashed down—suffocating, icy. Then, after an eternity, he spoke—low, raw. "It's okay." His eyes glistened—tears catching the light, spilling free. "I understand, Beno."

The words struck—a fist to the chest. Guilt surged—hot, relentless—Beno's fists clenching, nails biting into palms as his breath hitched. "I try so hard to remember," he choked—tears burning, voice cracking. "But my head—it's splitting apart, like something's breaking inside." A tear fell—warm, tracing his cheek. "I fail. Over and over. I'm sorry, Charles."

Silence stretched—heavy, their soft sobs mingling, Beno's hiccups threading with Charles's trembling breaths.

Charles inhaled—shaky, deep. "Did you know... my sister and I had dual abilities?"

Beno lifted his head—vision blurred, curiosity piercing the haze.

"Rare as hell among hunters now." Charles stared at his hands—voice distant, lost in time. "Our parents died in an accident when we were kids. Then some unknown bastards hunted us—wanted our powers. Clara... she shielded me. Every. Damn. Time."

His voice quivered—pressing on. "She could see the future, Beno."

Beno's eyes widened—shock jolting through him.

Charles laughed—dry, hollow. "My birthday... I found her crying. She never cried." His knuckles whitened—fingers digging in. "She wouldn't tell me why—just made me promise." His voice splintered. "'Charles, be strong. When I'm gone, carry on without me.'"

Dread pooled in Beno's gut—cold, sinking.

"I didn't get it. Told her she was crazy—she wasn't going anywhere. She just smiled—soft, sad." Charles's voice broke. "'Someday, I'll vanish from this world. But you'll meet someone amazing. Protect him, no matter what.'"

The weight crushed Beno—unbearable.

"That was the last time she was alive."

Charles's hands shook, unraveling. "She left that morning. Came back..." His voice shattered. "A corpse."

Beno swallowed—throat raw, burning.

"She was... torn apart. Limbs missing, her torso ripped open like the hounds had burrowed into her. The ground was soaked in blood, and what was left of her flesh was barely clinging to the bone. Her face..." His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. "It was still there—barely. The skin shredded, her eyes wide open, frozen in terror."

Charles's words fell—stones in a void. "Just her toes left."

A tear slid down his cheek—unwiped, glinting. "She kept her promise. Came back. Not alive."

The air strained—taut, ready to snap. Beno's tears spilled—chest heaving with an ache too vast to name. "Charles... I..."

"If I'd been stronger," Charles whispered—barely audible, "I could've saved her. But I wasn't. She died for me."

Sobs tore free—raw, unrestrained—echoing in the stillness.

Outside, Luna pressed against the wall—breath shallow, fists clenched, nails drawing blood. She didn't move—leaving them to their grief.

Morning light sliced through the blinds—golden streaks cutting the sterile floor. Antiseptic stung Beno's nose as he stirred—pain dulled to a throb, his body alive again.

Charles stretched—wincing, bruises shadowing his skin, exhaustion lingering like a specter in his eyes.

A sharp knock broke the quiet. Dr. Roy strode in—coat billowing, stern face set. "Well, you survived," he huffed—crossing his arms. "Let's see if you're intact."

He checked Charles's bandage—nodding. "Arrow had a trace of Dark Matter. I got it out. Lucky it wasn't worse." He sighed. "No reckless crap, got it?"

Charles smirked—defiance flickering. "Yeah, yeah, Doc."

Roy turned to Beno—glare piercing. Beno grinned weakly. "How're you, Dr. Roy?"

Roy inhaled—slow, deep. "You absolute idiot."

Beno blinked—startled.

"Third time in my hospital from some brain-dead stunt!" Roy snapped—pinching his nose. "Do you like getting hurt?"

Beno shrank—sheepish. "Uh... sorry."

Roy muttered—huffing. "You're healing too damn fast. Thank God for Franky's potion last night. Drink another to finish it."

Beno perked up. "I can leave?"

Roy rolled his eyes—exasperated. "Yes."

"But my bones—"

"Would be in a cast without Franky," Roy cut in. "She dosed you both. You're not a mess because of her."

Memory clicked—Beno grinned. "Oh, the exam!"

Charles deadpanned. "Are you mentally ill?"

"Did we pass?"

Charles sighed—long-suffering. "Of course, moron."

Luna stepped in—tray balancing steaming plates, her hair catching the light, determination glinting in her eyes. "Breakfast, Beno." Pancakes—warm, syrup-drizzled. "And you, Charles. Eat."

Beno's stomach growled—but Luna's next words froze him. "We're hitting Noak Guild today."

"Today?!" He gestured—wild. "I'm not healed—"

Luna stared—unimpressed. "I know." She pulled a glowing vial—molten gold—from her bag.

Dr. Roy's jaw dropped. "Mandolus High-Level Potion—" he breathed—awe trembling.

Charles leaned in—eyes wide. "That regrows limbs in seconds! Where'd you get that?"

"My dad's a government bigshot," Luna shrugged. "Gift."

Charles gaped. "You're wasting a $100,000 potion on him?!"

"It's fine," she waved off. "Drink, Beno."

He hesitated—then downed it. Warmth erupted—veins blazing, bones knitting, bruises fading. He leapt up—grinning. "I'm alive! Look, Charles!"

Charles sighed—rubbing his temples. "Put your arms down, lunatic."

Luna smiled—faint. "Let's move. Noak Guild—license, exam docs, party registration."

Beno bounced—eager. "Let's go!"

Charles paused—face darkening. "I've got a stop first."

"Where?" Beno tilted his head.

"It's personal," Charles said—shaking it off. "Go ahead. I'll catch up."

Luna frowned—but nodded. "Don't dawdle."

Charles slipped out—vanishing into the streets.

Mist clung low over the graveyard—a shroud, thick and still, muffling the rustle of leaves and a crow's distant caw. Charles's boots crunched gravel—slow, heavy—each step a pull against a wound he couldn't outrun.

He stopped—breath catching—before a weathered gravestone, moss-stained and chipped, alone under a gnarled oak. The name hit like a blade: Clara Fennel. "A brave soul who sacrificed everything."

He knelt—fingers trembling as they traced the letters, rough stone biting his skin. His throat seized—dry, aching—tears clawing up, hot and relentless. "Big sis..." His voice cracked—a whisper, raw and jagged. His chest shuddered—breath hitching as he pressed his palm to the grave, cold seeping into him. "I found him. The idiot you told me to protect. Weird... stubborn... reckless..." A sob broke free—low, guttural—tears spilling, dripping onto the stone. "But kind. So damn kind."

He clenched his fist—nails digging in, blood beading faintly. "I hope your sacrifice wasn't for nothing." His voice trembled—grief tearing through, his body curling as if to shield the pain. "He's chasing his brother... I wanna help him. Like you wanted." Tears streaked his face—unwiped, glistening in the mist. "Maybe this is my path."

A gust swirled—sharp, tugging his hair. He laughed—bitter, broken. "I miss you, sis. So much it hurts." His shoulders shook—resolve hardening through the sorrow. "But I swear—I'll get stronger. I'll meet people worth fighting for. And I'll stand here again—not the weak kid you died for, but someone you'd..." His voice caught—swallowing hard. "...be proud of."

The wind tightened—embracing, fleeting. Charles wiped his eyes—sleeve rough against his skin—and stood, resolve steeling his spine. "Wait for me, sis. I'll be back."

He turned—boots crunching away. Behind him, a faint glow shimmered—wispy smoke rising from the grave, twisting into Clara's form. Her translucent figure flickered—sorrow and warmth warring in her eyes as she watched him go. "Be careful, little brother," she whispered—voice a breeze threading the mist. Her gaze lifted—skyward, hardening with foreboding. "The world's about to crumble. Shadows stir beyond the gate... and only Beno can face the storm."

Her form wavered—dissolving into the fog, leaving silence in her wake.

Charles stepped into Noak Guild's bustling hall—shaking off the graveyard's weight. Luna's voice cut through—sharp, annoyed. "Told you not to take too long."

He groaned—eyes rolling. "What, you my mom now?"

Her scowl deepened. "If I was, you'd be out a window already."

"Tch. You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna test me?" Her tone dropped—dark, knuckles popping ominously.

Beno's voice burst in—bright, oblivious. "Guys, look!" He pointed—bouncing. "Franky's photo! And another legend! This place is insane!"

Charles sighed—exasperated. "Calm down, you're like a kid."

High above, Franky leaned against the balcony railing—arms folded, eyes glinting as he watched Beno wave at posters like an excitable pup. A shadowy figure stood beside him—face veiled in darkness.

"This group's meant to save humanity?" the figure asked—doubt dripping.

Franky smirked—amused, but sharp. "Dunno. But I'd wager on 'em."

The shadow scoffed. "He's not ready. Far from it."

Franky's gaze lingered on Beno—knowing, piercing. "Not yet." His voice lowered—ominous, heavy with portent. "But mark my words—he'll surprise us all. He's no mere man... he's the Forsaken Blood of the Dying Star, born to unmake fates and shatter worlds."

The shadow stilled—silence stretching as Franky's smirk widened, tension coiling around Beno's unseen destiny.

[End of Chapter]