Morphers demonstrate their artes through fluid combat, seamlessly shifting between weapons—swords, axes, crossbows—to adapt to any threat mid-fight, maintaining combat efficiency at all ranges. They control the battlefield swapping rapidly between weapons before the opponent can adjust.
In the modern age of the Wardens, Morphers have advanced their craft further through Alter weapons: forged tools capable of morphing into multiple forms. A single weapon might become a crossbow, an axe, or a shield. This versatility allows Morphers greater control of the flow of combat with unmatched flexibility and devastating efficacy.
To fight alongside a Morpher is to witness constant change—a whirlwind of blades and bolts shifting shape and purpose, a dance of lethal mastery. Yet beneath that martial grace lies a discipline born of honed instinct and perfect timing—the foundations that transforms chaotic motion into controlled power.
Kai knelt at the river's edge, the water lapping at his hands as he rinsed away the grime of another night of training. Thick fog curled between the ancient trees, their dense canopy casting the forest in a shroud of muted greens and grays. Though the darkness of night lingered, a soft glow on the horizon hinted that dawn was near.
He finished washing up—a ritual he'd started after enduring a few crinkled noses from Oro—then pulled on his worn clothes. His eyes lingered on the dark sword resting beside him, its blade gleaming faintly in the low light. Every night, he had trained with it, moving through strikes and stances, following every lesson he'd learned—yet the hidden strength he'd wielded against the fiend refused to reveal itself again.
When he faced Branlen again, how could he win without the sword's power at his command? That question has been gnawing on him since he has begun his nightly training, gnawing away at his resolve. He sighed, irritation tightening his chest as he lifted the weapon and fastened it to his belt.
At least he was growing more comfortable with the miraii sword forms—a skill that might give him a chance. But would it be enough?
Kai squared his shoulders and turned toward the village, the mist swallowing his figure as he moved through the woods. Daylight hadn't yet broken, but the gloom had lightened—smudging the trees into shadowy silhouettes.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard the faint trill of birdsong—short, sharp chirps breaking through the early hush. A branch creaked as something small shifted in the canopy above. The forest wasn't lively, but it was waking, stirring in soft pockets around him. Kai paused, letting himself enjoy the faint sounds while he still could—it was one of the few senses he had that was unchanged.
Then, without warning, the forest went still. The birds were silent, the wind gone, and even the soft drip of dew had stopped.
That's when he felt it—a silence deeper than silence. An absence.
A wrongness that twisted the air itself.
Just off the path, hidden in the brush, a lone tree stood atop a moss-covered mound. Twisted and bare, it sagged beneath the weight of its own rot. Everything around it seemed darker somehow, muted. Even the fog seemed to avoid it, curling around the base but never drifting through.
Kai almost ignored it and kept walking.
But something about this one... felt wrong. Out of place. Like the world had forgotten it was there.
And yet, despite himself, his feet carried him on—step by hesitant step through the underbrush. He couldn't explain why—only that the tree seemed to pull at him, faint but insistent, until he stood at the edge of the mound.
He blinked, realizing just how far he'd come from the path without noticing. What was it that pulled him? He looked up at the twisted, decaying tree.
It loomed like a sentinel, bark stripped in long curling layers, limbs skeletal and warped. But now, standing at the base of the mound, he saw it for what it truly was.
It was a wyrmwood.
His breath caught. The realization came like a cold wave. Beneath layers of rot and decay, and hollowed by time and neglect, he hadn't recognized it at first. Yet the shape was unmistakable. The bark held a faint ghost of shimmer in patches, but he could still imagine how this tree must have looked—majestic and full of life.
Wyrmwoods were sacred. He'd grown up beneath their glow, watched them pulse and hum as spirits danced along their branches. But this tree lacked the life and warmth he remembered.
His heart thudded, heavy and slow. That's what this place was—a shadow of what once was.
A sacred site. A haven for spirits.
Or… it had been.
He turned slowly in place, taking in the quiet underbrush, the lichen-clad stones worn smooth by time, and the tangled overgrowth that once might have blossomed with spirit-touched life. It wasn't just dead—it was forgotten. Forsaken. A graveyard beneath a canopy of green.
The mana here had long since drained away. Not enough remained to keep this place alive.
And still, something lingered in the silence. A memory. A shadow. The echo of what had been.
Kai stepped away from the mound with a heavy heart, each stride through the tall grass feeling harder than the last. The path slowly came back into view through the thinning mist, but he didn't feel any lighter for it. That shrine—no, that grave—pressed on his thoughts like a stone.
Was this the fate that awaited Vander?
A home drained of light and spirit. A sacred grove hollowed and bare. The people who raised him… what chance did they have if the world kept rotting from the roots out?
He was their only hope. But after all this time, after everything he'd witnessed, was he truly any closer to solving the mana crisis?
The air shifted again as he rejoined the path. The sounds of nature returned—soft chirps, the rustle of distant wings, the breeze weaving through the trees.
His hand drifted to the charm that hung around his neck. He drew it out from his shirt, holding it up to catch what little light broke through the canopy. The violet glow shimmered faintly across his eyes.
The wyrmwood core.
It had always calmed him, grounded him in moments of doubt. A piece of home.
If he planted it… would it grow? Could it take root and bloom amid the rot? Or would the dwindling mana starve it before it could even sprout?
He turned the charm in his palm, watching the light flicker across its surface.
As long as he fed it his spira, it would endure. That much he was certain of. But he couldn't give it what it needed to truly thrive.
A voice broke the silence, snapping Kai out of his reverie.
"Hey—are you a local? I'm looking for a village. Name of Merrowbrook. Heard it's tucked somewhere in this fog."
Startled, Kai turned sharply, his heart skipping as he realized he knew that voice.
Partially obscured by mist and low branches, a man waited at the path's edge. His travel-worn cloak hung damp, boots heavy with mud. But it was the face that stopped Kai cold: a jagged scar splitting cheek and lips, unmistakable. Over the man's shoulder peeked a large mechanical contraption.
Grant.
Kai stared at him, disbelief crashing over him like a wave. "Grant," he breathed, voice unsteady despite himself.
The man squinted. "Do I know you?"
Kai opened his mouth, then hesitated. He didn't recognize him.
"Wait a minute…" The hunter's expression shifted—his brows raised, then knit tightly as the realization clicked into place.
"…Kai?" He remarked in astonishment. "I wasn't sure what happened to you after you vanished! Thought you might've ended up in a ditch somewhere—or worse."
Grant trudged closer, his heavy boots crunching damp soil underfoot. He stopped within arm's reach, still staring, then extended a thick, calloused hand.
Kai remembered the greeting from their last meeting. He reached out, grasping the offered hand. Grant's grin widened as he shook it vigorously, jolting Kai's arm up and down.
The hunter let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Well, I'll be damned. Didn't expect to find you here."
Kai managed a small, lopsided smile. "Could say the same."
Grant gave him a look. "Hey, I'm out here doing my duty as a Warden. What's your excuse?"
Kai shrugged, "Just passing through. I need to head north, but there's supposed to be some monster blocking the way. The village elder told me to wait for a monster hunter before moving on."
Grant's grin grew wider, a spark lighting his eyes. "Well, that just so happens to be me."
"Seems that way." Kai replied.
Grant chuckled. "Guess I'm here to clear your path. Lead on and let's see what kind of trouble this thing's causing."
Kai led the way through the dense fog. "Grant," Kai began, glancing over his shoulder. "What happened to the Caernoch? Patty told me you drove it off, but she didn't say how."
Grant's grin flickered into a thoughtful expression. "Ah, that mess," he said, running a hand through his damp hair. "The fight was something else. After that thaumaturgical device exploded inside the chamber, the Caernoch got a whole lot less aggressive." He shrugged, seeming more puzzled by the event than troubled by its violence. "I don't know much about thaumaturgy, can't say what that device really did. But whatever it was, that thing was dead set on reaching that chamber, and considering its reaction, I figure that device was the reason."
Kai nodded, as they made their way over a fallen log. "So how did you manage to turn it back?"
Grant's eyes gleamed with a hint of pride. "You gave me the tip to hit it under the arm. I followed it to the letter—caught it just right with one of my bolts. The beast reared back in pain." He let out a low chuckle. "That did the trick. It turned tail, scrambled back up the wall and vanished into one of the holes of the cave."
Kai remembered that crimson light that shone out from beneath the beast's fatty hide.
"I followed after it, made sure it didn't head towards Limdal…" Grant's voice faltered for a moment, and his gaze dropped to the fog-covered forest floor. "I probably should've tried to find you and Fergus instead. Chasing after that thing... might've been a mistake."
Kai's steps faltered, his eyes refusing to meet Grant's as he spoke. "Speaking of which… I don't know where Fergus is either. He was taken—by those people in black masks."
Grant's jaw clenched, his usual grin fading. "Black masks…" he echoed, his voice quieter now, almost cautious.
"We were ambushed. I tried to stop them, but they took him. I don't know who they are, nor what they wanted with him, but I can't forget those violet eyes," Kai said. As he spoke, Kai noticed the change in Grant's demeanor—the way his gaze briefly shifted, the subtle clench of his hands. That description hadn't landed on unfamiliar ears. Grant knew something. Maybe not much, but enough for it to hit a nerve.
Grant paused briefly, then slid his familiar grin back onto his face. "Don't you fret. We'll find him. But first, we have to deal with this monster." He glanced around at the thick fog curling through the trees. "Look how the fog moves, it isn't natural."
Kai stopped. The wet mud squelched beneath his shoes as he turned to face Grant, a quiet intensity as he held his gaze.
"Who are the Black Masks?"
Grant blinked, caught off guard by the blunt question. "How am I supposed to know?"
Kai stood firm, his eyes locked on Grant's, not with anger—but with something colder. Judgment, unspoken and absolute. That quiet stare carved through Grant's defenses.
Grant's bravado faltered.
He exhaled heavily. "Fine," he said, shoulders sinking. "Guess you've got a right to know. Considering they came for you."
He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating before his voice dropped lower. "Truth be told, I'm surprised they let you live. From everything I've heard, that's not their style."
"They left me wounded and trapped down in the cave," Kai said, his voice carefully even."It was a miracle I survived."
Grant looked at him for a long moment. There was something in his eyes—regret, maybe. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help," he said quietly.
Kai gave a short nod, then pressed, "So who are they?"
Grant looked around, as if checking the fog itself for ears. Then he sighed and leaned in slightly.
"I'm not really supposed to talk about them," he said, voice hushed. "It's a closely guarded secret—Warden business. Nobility, too. Most don't even believe they exist. Second-class wardens like me? We're kept out of that kind of thing."
He paused.
"But I had a run-in during a hunt a few years back. That's how I found out." He swallowed. "They're mercs. Hired blades. Shadowy as they come. From what I gathered, they take contracts—assassinations, sabotage, disappearances. Always in pairs. Never show their faces. They show up, do the job, vanish. Like ghosts."
He scratched at the edge of his stubbled jaw. "Don't know who hires them or who backs them. But the way I heard it, anyone who pokes around too much—"
Grant made a vague gesture with his hand, slicing the air.
"—doesn't last long. People go missing. Accidents happen. Real convenient-like."
"So how do I find them?" Kai asked.
Grant barked a humorless laugh. "You don't." He met Kai's gaze, something grim behind the smile now. "If anything, they find you. Best you forget about them."
Kai didn't answer right away. The fog shifted between them, a pale veil moving with the breeze.
Then, quietly but firmly, he said, "I won't."
With a final glance, he turned and walked into the swirling mist. Grant stayed still for a moment, eyes fixed on the fading silhouette swallowed by the mist. A silent acknowledgment of the courage required to walk such a dangerous path. Then he followed.