The Forgotten Ones
“Forgotten Ones……? Surely you're not saying this incident was perpetrated by remnants of their cult?”
Unlike his gentle demeanor up to now, Hul's voice carried a sharp edge.
“Adel, do you even know what it means to speak their name? If it's ignorance from youth, never utter it again.”
“No way. Anyone living on the continent knows of them. I'm speaking in earnest.”
Hul still looked skeptical, but Adel was certain.
Exactly two months after the Shallon disaster erupted, we—who were preparing for war with the great plains—had no choice but to abandon it.
But Hien never explained why. Baffled and furious, the tribe members silently obeyed the desert king's absolute command.
And at the end of those two months, from the cult's temple at the desert's southernmost tip, horrific monsters poured forth.
The desert tribes suffered massive losses from the sudden monster assault. But unlike the others, the Ulan tribe—who had been gearing up for war—barely survived the onslaught.
Now I get it.
People back then called it sheer luck. They had ample supplies and gear since war prep was just underway.
But that wasn't it. Father knew the Necromancer Cult was involved.
To counter whatever scheme they were plotting, he prioritized defense over launching a war.
Looking back, that was a painful mistake.
Of course, from that era's perspective, it was hard to call Hien's decision wrong. Anyone would fortify defenses against the infamous cult's machinations.
But we're not some ordinary kingdom—we're desert folk. Ulan thrives on the battlefield of the sands thanks to unmatched mobility with Kargon mounts and precise long-range archery no other kingdom can rival.
Defensive sieges nullified all those advantages.
Hien surely knew that. He'd earned the epithet Baekgwi—White Ghost—for turning enemy hordes into spirits on the field, a true warlord.
For such a father to abandon the desert's edge and hunker down means the cult's schemes were that unpredictable.
The Forgotten Ones. They were those forsaken by the gods' blessings.
Not everyone received a blessing, so it wasn't unfair per se. But the Forgotten Ones were different. Though alive, their very existence had been erased by the gods.
Wanderers between the living and the dead. Neither fully alive nor dead, their origins unknown.
They could enter the realm of the departed from birth and command the deceased.
Their necromancy opposes God's Blessing.
Kalderet said they were abandoned for bearing Rune'r's blood.
The god of annihilation and death, Rune'r. According to Kalderet, this god no longer existed, driven from the human realm by humans in ancient times and vanished into hiding.
And now those Forgotten Ones have resurfaced.
Incredibly, Rune'r had hidden in the demon realm. Two months later, from the southern temple, they opened a dimensional gate and summoned demons.
Empowered by demon might, they ravaged the desert, causing heavy casualties.
If we hadn't suffered that attack, the desert's strength wouldn't have waned.
Soon after, the central continent's wars settled, and Azal Kingdom's throne struggle took shape.
Karon Azal… He swiftly recovered from the war, crossed the great plains, and invaded the desert.
The First Heat Sand War. They barely repelled the aerial assault and held the desert, but Azal dealt a massive blow to the already weakened sands via the Forgotten Ones.
No way… It can't be.
In that instant, a vile suspicion Adel had never once considered surfaced.
His eyes sharpened. Endless battles in his past life had blinded him to it, but now the timing fit too perfectly.
Conflict with the great plains, the Forgotten Ones' desert raid, and now Azal Kingdom…
Seeming separate incidents, but to Adel—who knew future history—they formed a massive linked plot.
…Who?
The mastermind? Only one name came to mind.
Karon Azal. When he unified the center and founded his empire, he purged the Forgotten Ones.
He called it purification, and the masses hailed the empire's holy war.
If… it wasn't for the continent but to silence his own connections…
A chill ran through him. If true, he'd have to admire Karon's ruthlessness anew.
The regret and anguish on your face when you offered that poisoned cup? Just an act.
“Hoo…”
With a low sigh, he slowly shook his head. Speculating alone changed nothing. Past truths were mere phantoms now.
When they finally met, no poisoned cup—but Adel's arrow—would greet him.
For now, solve this.
Adel eyed Hul. If his past life's unexplained death stemmed from the Forgotten Ones, it made sense—even for a skilled hunter like him.
They're impossible to kill by normal means.
“Adel, if the Forgotten Ones are truly involved as you say, this is huge. It'll plunge the continent into chaos.”
“Brother, that's why we must proceed with caution. The Forgotten Ones can't be faced without weapons clad in God's Blessing.”
“Indeed.”
Nakrang Squad was elite, but only Hul wielded a blessing.
“We must hurry. Securing a base camp takes a backseat to heading for the great plains. I hope you're wrong.”
“Thank you for listening. Sirin would've dismissed me on the spot.”
Hul gave a wry smile.
“He's prideful. Won't easily yield to young brothers. You've only recently joined the clan. Bear with it.”
Not just brothers—he ignores everyone.
“Of course.”
No need to argue now. To challenge Sirin, he needed more prep.
[Adel.]
Then, Kalderet—running beside Kargon—called him.
What?
[I smell it.]
Adel grimaced slightly, eyes fixed ahead. He knew what "it" meant.
Blood.
A faint fishy tang imperceptible to most. But with Kalderet's power, Adel sensed the alien scent.
“A battle's underway.”
Gripping Kagor's reins, Adel accelerated.
* * *
“Maintain formation!!!”
“Arrows aren't working! Draw swords!!”
“Shields forward!!”
Bursting through the wind, raucous shouts echoed below the gorge.
Even amid the sandstorm whipping through the canyon, Adel identified their foes.
“……Dragonbone soldiers?”
Hul saw it too.
Boom—!!
Crash—!!!
Kaboom—!!!
Rocks shattered with deafening roars. Amid rising dust, hordes of undead tore into the defenders.
“Those…”
Corpses littered the ground—all non-hunters.
Hul raised a hand, ducking into cover to scout.
“No idea why non-hunters are here, but those three got lucky—fled right to us.”
“Is that so?”
But they were all dead anyway. Were they truly lucky?
Hul realized his words rang hollow, flashing an awkward wry smile.
“Brother, look—they're fighting dragonbone soldiers. As you know, they're undead forged from dragon bones.”
“Yes. But too soon to conclude. Handling dragonbone soldiers doesn't make one a necromancer.”
“Time to confirm.”
Adel slowly drew his bow. Not the finest, but nest-crafted for this sweep.
“Whether they're truly plotting to threaten the desert.”
Creak.
“Dragonbone soldiers can't answer—so save those under attack.”
His drawstring tautened.
No hesitation.
Fitting for Hien's adopted son.
But maybe too rash.
Nakrang hunters eyed him, thoughts varied. Knowing their gaze appraised him, Adel deemed this moment crucial.
Unwavering, yet not reckless.
Winning Nakrang's favor was paramount. Blindly showing off would paint him a cocky kid.
Whoosh—!!!
Without pause, the arrow burst from his fingers like a living thing, curving with a piercing whistle.
“……Ripple Shot?!”
“Already a high hunter's technique?”
“As expected…”
Onlookers gasped. Peers Harun and Kasla were stunned too—especially Harun, practicing it himself, gaped speechless.
Shrieeeek…!!!!
Splat—!!!
The arrow struck true, shattering the dragonbone soldier's skull like a smashed melon with a dull thud.
“Brother, may I engage?”
Hul, fresh off witnessing the Ripple Shot, nodded permission. Curiosity mirrored in his eyes, like the squad's.
Hooked them.
Ripple Shot strained young Adel's wrists—unsustainable in hunts. But one shot sufficed. The gap between "can" and "can't" loomed large for hunters.
“Frontline, advance!! Shrink their range! Rear hunters, cover frontline. Never break formation!!”
“……Yes!!”
Nakrang responded instinctively. Though just a boy, his inexplicable pressure left them shouting back, then bewildered at themselves.
Crunch—!!!
In that brief hesitation, Adel had already stabbed his sword into the headless dragonbone soldier's chest.
His first true battle, not a hunt.