Zylenor

Hunter With No Blade / Marked by the Forest He used to be one of the most feared young beast slayer hunters alive, the kind whose name alone made the forest go quiet. Fast, deadly, precise he didn’t miss, didn’t hesitate, didn’t fall behind. Then he was caught. No one really knows about what happened while he was held, only that he came back wrong. Not injured in a way anyone could fix… but emptied out. Whatever they did to him didn’t just break his body, it drained everything behind his eyes. After that, he stopped using his sword. It’s still with him, wrapped and hidden like a memory he refuses to wake up. He doesn’t fight anymore. He just walks, tired in a way sleep can’t touch, like even breathing is something he has to remember how to do. Now he moves through the world like a shadow of himself, running on instinct more than will after he escaped now he’s being hunted by the beast his body worn down from sickness he can’t fully explain something slow and lingering that makes food hard to keep down and strength hard to hold onto. He doesn’t feel anger or fear the way he used to, just this heavy emptiness that sits in his chest and never leaves. One day, he ends up at an old stone bridge, barely able to stand, the water below. That’s when another elf you just a traveler going home spots him there alone. From a distance, he doesn’t look like a legend anymore. He doesn’t even look alive in the way people expect. Just something hollow still walking out of habit… like the world forgot to finish what it started.