The Forest of Monsters

The steward's voice rang out, low and solemn. "The Lord arrives."

A thick beard and deep wrinkles etched the passage of years across his face, but his eyes remained as sharp as ever.

"You're here, Father."

The three sons seated at the table rose as one and bowed with respect.

Eddard settled into the great lord's chair and said simply, "Let's eat."

He lifted his utensils, and the meal began in silence. Clink. Clink. In that hush, the only sound was silver striking silver.

Eddard asked abruptly, "How are the defenses against monster incursions along the northern border coming along?"

Across the table, Victor, the second son, straightened his back in an instant.

"Yes, Father. We recently repelled three Blood-Eyed Demons near the Forest of Monsters. We detected them in advance as they closed in on the northern border villages and dealt with them before they could strike."

Victor added, chest swelling with quiet pride, "We've also intensified the training of the Monster Defense Corps and introduced new formation tactics to strengthen our readiness."

Eddard paused his knife mid-carve and nodded slowly. A faint smile of satisfaction brushed across his lips.

"Excellent. Keep it up. Never forget — the harder you work, the safer the people of this territory become."

Victor's face lit up. He had always thirsted for his father's approval.

Eddard's gaze shifted next to his third son, Drake.

"Drake. I hear you've overhauled the way we smelt weapons. I've also heard it costs quite a bit."

Drake answered without hesitation, "Yes, Father. The initial cost was steep, but it was worth every coin."

Confidence rang in his voice. "We brought in master smiths from the Kingdom of Kelt and adopted a new smelting method. Weapon quality has improved dramatically — we'll recover the full investment within half a year."

Eddard raised his wine glass and pressed deeper. "What exactly does this method entail?"

Drake answered without missing a beat. "It's a Keltic technique — the iron is refined three times and forged twice. That doubles its strength compared to the old method."

Eddard nodded, satisfied. "Good. Weapons and armor are the bedrock of House Stark's power. See that you spare no effort in maintaining that standard."

At last, Eddard's gaze came to rest on his youngest son, Bran.

Bran met his father's eyes, tension coiled inside him beneath a quiet flicker of hope. But the words that followed were nothing like what he'd been hoping for.

"Youngest. I have been disappointed in you."

Eddard's voice sank low. "You drifted far longer than your brothers ever did, and it took you an age to come to your senses. You were always... the one who kept me up at night."

"I'm sorry, Father. I was foolish, and I fell short."

Bran bowed his head — but his voice was firmer than it had ever been.

"I intend to do everything in my power to make right the foolishness of my past."

The hard line of Eddard's mouth softened, if only a little.

"Yes — I've received reports that you've changed. I hear you made quite a showing in the training grounds recently? A knight newly risen to 1st Star, and yet they tell me you won an overwhelming victory."

"I was merely lucky," Bran answered humbly. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠"I know I still have a long road ahead."

Eddard seemed to rather like what he saw, and gave a faint nod.

"Good. Hold on to that mindset and keep striving. You started later than the rest, so from here on, you'll need to work twice, three times as hard."

"I'll remember, Father."

"Well, that's enough of the lecture... Rewards and punishments must be certain, after all."

Eddard's voice grew noticeably warmer. His deep eyes settled on Bran.

"As encouragement for your growth — if there is something you desire, I will grant you one thing. Speak."

The moment had come. Without a flicker of hesitation, Bran fired out the words he had prepared for it.

"Father, I request permission to enter the Forest of Monsters."

"...The Forest of Monsters?"

Eddard's thick brows rose a fraction.

"What business do you have there? Even 2nd-Star knights struggle in that place. A few years ago, a baron's son went missing there, if you recall."

Worry bled through his voice.

"I understand your concerns perfectly, Father. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there is something I must obtain there — no matter what."

At his son's changed bearing, something new flickered in Eddard's eyes. He seemed to weigh it for a brief moment — then made his decision.

"...Very well. If your resolve runs that deep, I grant you entry."

He paused, then went on.

"But I can hardly call a mere entry permit a reward."

Eddard tilted his chin toward the steward standing at his side.

"Go. Bring me 'that thing.'"

"...!"

In an instant, every gaze at the table swung to Eddard. Surprise and envy flashed across Victor's face, and a faint stir ran through the servants as well.

Bran swallowed drily.

'Don't tell me... he means that bow...?'

A short while later, the steward returned, carefully bearing a long, elegantly carved wooden box in both hands.

The moment he opened the lid, a mysterious, potent aura spilled from within and coiled through the air of the dining hall.

A beautiful bow, silver and blue light interwoven in an otherworldly shimmer, ancient patterns engraved in delicate detail along its limbs.

Eddard rose from his seat and placed the bow in Bran's hands with his own.

"You know what this bow means to our family. Cherish it second only to your own life, and wield it for the glory of House Stark."

Five divine artifacts, passed down through the generations of House Stark: a sword, a shield, a spear, a pair of gauntlets — and a bow.

'In the original story, this was an artifact I never even got to lay eyes on, thanks to my brothers' rivalry and my father's distrust... and now here it is, in my hands.'

And so the five siblings each came to claim one. The eldest brother took the sword, the eldest sister the shield, Victor the spear, and Drake the gauntlets. And Bran took the bow.

"Yes. I will remember, Father."

The moment they passed the final watchpost of the Monster Defense Corps, a vast forest steeped in dark, oppressive energy revealed itself.

The forbidden realm that pressed against the northern edge of House Stark's lands.

The Forest of Monsters.

Colossal trees that had endured a thousand years blotted out the sky, and the moss underfoot drank in the monsters' eerie miasma.

But Bran had his own reason for coming here.

A few days earlier.

"GPT, what do I have to do to stop the threats coming for this family? Start with the most urgent."

"Money? And what exactly is there in this world for me to make money with?"

After weighing every possibility, Bran settled on elixir manufacturing and sales — the option that demanded little startup capital yet promised the greatest returns.

Crafting elixirs required monster essences for the core ingredient.

Fortunately, north of the Stark territory, beyond the Cheonsan mountain range, lay a vast monster habitat known as the Forest of Monsters. Dangerous — but the perfect place to gather materials.

'And if I'm going to craft elixirs, I'll need the crafting technique as well.'

Bran spent 50 of the 100 coins he had saved up to purchase the skill he needed from the [Shop].

On top of that, he had secured the bow from his father.

His preparations were complete.

Emma, trotting along at Bran's heels, asked in an anxious voice, "But Young Master, will you really be all right? Do you actually know how to shoot a bow properly?" She had stubbornly followed him all the way into the forest under the pretext of worrying about him.

"I do. I practiced last night, remember?"

"What? You're going to shoot a bow on a single night of practice? Against terrifying monsters, no less?"

Emma's face was full of worry.

"Young Master, wouldn't it be better to just turn back?"

There was a reason the Forest of Monsters was so notorious. The monsters here were powerful enough that even 2nd-Star knights struggled against them.

But Bran was confident.

Because this bow was his trump card.

Then—

Grrrrrumble—

From the brush ahead, a massive boar-shaped monster emerged.

A hulk easily more than three times the size of an ordinary wild boar. Bloodshot eyes glinted with greed, and from its broad, iron-hard forehead jutted a long, razor-sharp horn.

"Oh— oh no! Th-that's a Chauwang!" Emma shrieked in terror.

"Shh!"

Bran swiftly pressed a finger to his lips in warning — and in the same motion readjusted his grip on the bow and settled into his stance.

He took aim at his target — the Chauwang — and slowly drew back the string—

Across Bran's vision, points all over the Chauwang's body began to glow red. The most lethal vitals were the heart and the head.

As he adjusted the draw weight and angle, a virtual aiming reticle shifted in real time, tracing the predicted point of impact.

Bran held his breath, aligned the reticle precisely over the Chauwang's glowing heart, and released the string without a moment's hesitation.

Twang! Shuuuk—!

The arrow tore through the air.

"Kweeeek!"

KRA-KOOM!

The massive Chauwang let out a horrific death scream and slammed its colossal body into the ground — an impact violent enough to shake the earth for yards around.

Emma covered her gaping mouth with both hands in shock — then burst into cheers.

"Wow! Wow! Young Master, that was incredible! You felled that terrifying Chauwang with a single shot! I never dreamed your archery was this masterful!"

Her eyes sparkled with astonishment and excitement.

Bran approached the fallen beast's enormous carcass. Its sheer bulk and the rancid stench unique to monsters stung his nose.

The beast wasn't quite finished yet — it shuddered violently, laboring to force out its final breaths.

"Grrrrl... krrk..."

Bran drew his hunting dagger from his belt without hesitation and drove it deep into the Chauwang's nape, ending its breath for good.

The body convulsed hard one last time, then went slack.

Shk. Shk.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sound of parting thick, tough hide and slicing through flesh spread through the quiet forest.

Without a flicker of squeamishness, Bran plunged his hand deep into the beast's belly, wading through warm, sticky innards as he groped about for something.

"Y-Young Master, what are you doing right now...?" Emma asked, horrified.

By then, Bran's arm was soaked to the elbow in red blood and viscera — for all the world like a man up to his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠elbows in the kimchi vat.

And then—

A glint—

From within the pool of blood emerged a small orb radiating a brilliant luster, about the size of a thumbnail.

Bran wiped the grime from its surface with a clean cloth and handed it to Emma.

"Keep this somewhere safe. Be careful not to break it — it's extremely precious."

"What...? Then could this be...?"

"That's right. This is the Chauwang's essence — a pearl in which the very source of the beast's power is condensed."

Emma's eyes went wide.

"Wow... it's beautiful."

In truth, the Chauwang was a monster even monster-hunters shunned — its hide, its meat, its bones, not one part of it had any use. Had it held any economic value, it would have been hunted long ago; being utterly worthless, no one ever bothered to go after one.

'But the essence is a different story entirely.'

There existed an elixir recipe that, in this era, no one had yet discovered. By that recipe, the Chauwang's essence would become the key ingredient of an extraordinarily precious elixir.

The day that recipe ever came to light, this essence would be worth a fortune.

Until then...

'I just have to quietly enjoy this sweet little monopoly all to myself.'

A satisfied smile on his lips, Bran took up his bow once more.

"Emma, no time to dawdle. We need to hurry. I intend to hunt down every last Chauwang in this area before the sun sets today."

Before long, the crimson evening glow had dyed the sky.

"Hmm, shall we call the hunt here for today?"

The pouch of essences slung against Emma's chest was bulging at the seams.

By a rough count, more than thirty Chauwang essences were packed inside.

"We caught far more than I expected. Your skill, Young Master, is truly..."

Emma gazed at him with undisguised admiration.

"Young Master, there's a cave just up ahead... shall we rest there a while before heading back?"

A pitch-black cave mouth yawned in the rocks not far away. Emma swept her fallen hair behind her ear and, quite deliberately, let the motion bare the lush curve of her chest.

"It's getting dark, and I'm suddenly feeling a little scared."

Her seductive voice seemed to carry something more than a simple suggestion to rest.

In truth, ever since her first taste of Bran's cock, Emma had been slipping into his chambers every single night.

Bran's gaze traveled naturally over her sensual figure — the plump swell of her breasts, the cinched waist, the alluring line of her hips.

Primal desire smoldered slowly to life.

But.

Not tonight.

"Not tonight. I have work to do here. Head back to the estate without me."

At his firm refusal, Emma pushed out her lips in a disappointed pout.

"I'll hold you all you want once we're home, so don't sulk."

Bran sent her on her way and stepped into the cave alone.

Deep inside, he found a relatively flat, spacious chamber, settled in, and set down the large pack he had been carrying on his back.

Inside the pack lay a strange, cauldron-like apparatus.

The Harmonizing Medicine Furnace.

A vessel crafted specifically for the creation of elixirs.