He found more caves. Three, four, five. Some connected by narrow tunnels that required him to crouch to pass through. Old claw marks lined the earthen walls, some so deep that they looked as though they had been made by something far larger than a rat.

In one of them, he found a crude nest. Torn pelts, gnawed bones, and something that looked like a rudimentary altar made from the skulls of smaller animals. The skulls were arranged in a circle, and at the center was a dark, dried stain that Clavor recognized as blood.

His unease grew with every discovery.

Night descended completely over the forest. The crescent moon barely penetrated the dense canopy, and the darkness became almost absolute. Clavor lit another torch, the fire casting dancing shadows across the trees.

The silence was oppressive. Not even the nocturnal insects sang as they usually did. The air was cold and still, as though the forest itself were waiting.

That was when he felt it.

A tingling sensation on the back of his neck. The unmistakable feeling of being watched. Not by one or two pairs of eyes. By many.

Clavor stopped. Slowly turned around, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

Hundreds of red eyes glowed in the darkness between the trees and bushes. Small, bright, arranged in irregular groups. Some close, others farther away, forming a sea of crimson lights stretching across the hillside.

They were not just rats. They were a horde. Watching. Waiting.

The air seemed to grow colder.

Clavor felt his heart accelerate, but his voice came out steady and low.

"It’s... a Rat King..."

Ancient legends.

He had heard them when he was young, sitting around campfires with other soldiers. Stories told in hushed voices, as though merely speaking of it could attract the creature’s attention.

A Rat King was rare. Extremely rare. An entity that united rats through corrupted mana and their tails, creating an intelligent and ravenous colony. Ordinary rats became servants, their bodies growing beyond natural limits, their aggression amplified. The King controlled the horde, coordinated attacks, and planned ambushes.

Few warriors had faced one and survived to tell the tale.

Clavor took several steps backward, slowly, never taking his eyes off those hundreds of red points. His hand never left the sword hilt.

The eyes did not move immediately. But a low, collective screech began to rise. Like a whisper multiplied a thousand times.

Clavor turned and ran.

His heavy footsteps snapped branches and shook the earth. He ran with the speed of a man trained for war, leaping over roots, weaving between trees, the torch swaying in his left hand.

Behind him, the screeching grew louder. Small but numerous paws began to move. The sound was like a rain of stones falling upon the ground.

He did not look back. He knew that looking back could mean death.

Branches scratched his face and arms. Sweat ran down his forehead, mixing with the blood from small cuts. His lungs burned, but he did not slow down.

Rapid thoughts flashed through his mind as he ran.

’I suspected it might be this. The signs were all there, the intelligence, the abnormal growth, the ability to chew through mana. But a Rat King... this close to our lands?’

’Now that I’ve confirmed it... I can’t handle this alone. Lukas, Aurora... the entire village is in danger.’

He tripped over a root but regained his balance without falling. The screeching sounded closer. A lone rat leapt from a bush to his right, its red eyes fixed on his throat. Clavor struck it out of the air with his forearm, smashing it against a tree without slowing down. The rat’s body hit the ground with a dull thud.

The edge of the forest finally appeared. The distant lights of Woodland Village shone like a beacon in the darkness.

Clavor burst out of the trees, panting heavily, his broad chest rising and falling. He stopped only once he reached open ground, turning to look back.

The forest was silent again. No red eyes were visible at the edge.

But he knew they were there. Watching.

He took several deep breaths, wiping the sweat from his face with a torn sleeve. His clothes were ripped in several places, and shallow scratches burned along his arms. But he was alive.

"I need help." He muttered to himself.

He quickly returned to the Dmond Manor. It was late at night when he arrived. The stars shone in the dark sky, and the crescent moon illuminated the road with a cold silver light.

Aurora was waiting at the entrance, worried, holding an oil lamp. Her violet eyes widened when she saw the torn clothes, the scratches, and the exhaustion on his face.

"Clavor! Thank the heavens. Are you hurt?"

"Nothing serious." He replied, pulling her into a brief embrace.

"But we need to act quickly."

He went straight to the study. Sitting at the heavy wooden desk, he lit several candles with trembling fingers and began to write. The quill scratched urgently across the parchment, the letters firm but hurried.

The letter was clear, direct, and respectful.

"Esteemed Count Hark,

An ancient danger has awakened in the forests near the Dmond lands. A Rat King, or something very similar, is leading a horde of mutated rodents. They have already attacked villagers and threaten the harvests. My son Lukas and his companions fought several of them, but the threat is greater than we can handle alone.

I humbly request your aid and that of your knights. Please come as soon as possible.

With respect,

Clavor Dmond"

He sealed the letter with wax and the family crest, the Three-Tailed Wolf. In the morning, as soon as the sun rose, he sent a trusted messenger directly to Hark Castle. The horse galloped down the road, kicking up dust, carrying the message that could decide the fate of the region.

Clavor stood on the veranda, watching the horizon. The sun rose behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. But his expression remained grim.

Aurora approached from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Will he come?" She asked.

"Count Hark is a man of honor. He will come. But until then... we’ll have to reinforce the defenses."

Lukas was still asleep in his room, unaware of the letter that had been sent. Prata and Tilbo rested beside him, their bodies still marked by the previous day’s battle. Astra pecked calmly at seeds inside her box.

The forest in the distance remained quiet.

But now everyone knew something ancient and hungry had awakened.