SSS: The First Legendary Beast Master

Warren's sword flickered through torchlight. The last hobgoblin champion crashed to the stone floor. Nine feet of muscle split from collar to navel. Blood pooled in the tunnel's worn grooves.

"Seven champions." Elena wiped gore from her leather vambraces. "Five of them yours, Warren. The guild's lucky to have you."

Warren smiled, cleaning his blade with practiced motions. "Luck had something to do with it." His voice was warm, pleasant. Like mulled wine on a cold night.

"Oh come on, Warren. I half suspect you left the other two just so we wouldn't look bad in comparison." Sara cut in."You know I bet you could be a royal hunter. How come you stay in this small -"

Torch shadows danced as quick footsteps echoed through the tunnel. The party stood ready for another fight. Instead, a messenger boy, red-faced and panting, rounded the corner. "Found you! Thank the gods. Second ranked party - Tessa's team. They're dead. All of them. And..." The boy hesitated.

"Speak." Warren kept polishing his blade.

"Your brother, sir. Tolk is dead. Found his body in the eastern tunnels. Some kind of bear-kin got him. Tore him apart, they say. Only the new tamer and his wolf got out."

Warren's hands stilled at the mention of the tamer. His mind circled one thought. That new beast tamer his brother had warned him about. The one that made his skin crawl. How had he managed to survive when Tolk didn't? Had he...?

The messenger babbled on. Interrupted Warren's thoughts. "Terrible business. Just terrible. Though some say Tolk had it coming, way he treated people, I personally have always had great respect for-"

Warren's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The boy just wouldn't shut up.Steel whistled. The boy's words became a wet gurgle. He dropped, throat opened to the spine.

"Warren?" Elena's voice quavered. "What did you...?"

He turned. Realised what he'd done. Watched understanding dawn in her eyes. Such a shame. She'd been competent. Reliable.

"It's the shock." Sara backed away, hands reaching for her weapon. "Your brother just died. We understand. We won't tell anyone about the messenger. It never happened.Ri- Right, Sara?"

Warren sighed. His practiced smile was nowhere in sight. "You know what's worse than someone who might betray you?" His blade caught torchlight. The girls moved back slowly. "Someone who thinks they own you. Who could reveal your secrets whenever they choose."

Sara ran. Three steps. A knife took her in the back. Elena barely saw his hand move.

She managed to draw her sword, shaking. She even managed to parry his first strike. But she'd seen him fight all day. Seen how he moved. When his blade swept up, she blocked high. He smiled. Amused.

He went low instead. Opened her from hip to ribs. Eyes were wide when her upper body fell. Seemed her mind hadn't realised what had happened till her lower body fell infront of her.

Warren cleaned his blade again as the echoes faded. He'd need a story. Something about sacrifice and glory. About barely escaping with his life. But first, he had a bear-kin to hunt.

---

Cold rain drummed against the guild hall's windows. Bran counted heartbeats in the silence. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred. The wound in his side throbbed where the bear-kin's claws had caught him. Or where he'd cut himself to match the story. The memories blurred after two sleepless nights.

Valik stood at attention. Armor still mud-caked from the tunnels. Young Hana perched on a wooden stool, legs swinging. Meera lay at her feet, seemingly dozing. But Bran felt her mind alert through their connection. Watching. Always watching.

Bran's muscles tensed with each creak of the old building. Were there hunters surrounding them? Had they somehow figured out what happened in the tunnels? Realised his wounds were self inflicted? The way he'd watched, waited, as that bear-kin tore into Tolk. The wet sounds. The screams.

No. Stop. He dug his nails into his palms. Tolk was dead. Dead men didn't walk.

Except there he was, leaning against Liana's bookshelf. Blood-soaked. Throat a red ruin. Look at you. Pretending to be human. We both know what you are.

Bran blinked. The apparition vanished. Just shadows and rain-light playing tricks. He hadn't slept since the tunnels. That must've been it . He just needed sleep. He'd seen death before. But that was survival . He'd never been so casually cruel.

The door burst open. The smell hit first - fresh blood and sweat. A man filled the doorframe, rain-soaked and crimson-spattered. Bran knew him. He was the leader of the first ranked hunting party - Warren. A bear-kin's severed head dangled from his fist. Features froze in a final snarl.

"Damn it, Warren!" Liana's chair scraped stone as she stood. "Where's your party?"

Warren's shoulders slumped. His voice cracked. "Dead. All dead." He tossed the head onto her desk. It rolled, knocking over an ink pot. Black and red seeped into the financial records. "We tracked this beast for two days. The one that killed Tolk. It... it was too strong. I barely made it out."

He lies. Meera's thoughts cut through Bran's mind. Whatever he's saying, he's lying. His steady heatbeat doesn't match his grieving face. His grief is practiced. His movements rehearsed. And that head... it carries only one scent. His.

Bran's throat tightened. One scent. Warren had killed it alone. An elite soldier of the Monarch of Prey that had torn through Tolk like parchment. One he would have trouble taking down even with Mace and Meera. Even if he was still wolf.

"The second rank party. Now this." Liana pressed her palms flat against the desk. Her knuckles whitened.

Warren took Liana's hand in his bloody ones, gentle as a lover. "We will mourn our dead. And we'll rebuild. We always do." His smile was gentle. Perfect.

Look at him.Tolk's ghost sneered from the corner. Fixed his hair before coming in, didn't he? Probably practiced that smile in the mirror. You just going to sit there like a limpdick while he woos your girl? Kill him. Like you killed me.

Bran's jaw clenched. Why wasn't Liana pulling away? That bloody head was leaking onto her papers. Those hands were stained with death. Death. Like he was.

Warren's thumb traced her knuckles. "The others fought bravely. Tessa's team, the other first ranks - they were fine hunters. Their deaths will not go unanswered."

"Warren." Liana's voice softened. "I am sorry about your brother. Even Bran barely got away with his life ."

Brother? Then it dawned on him. Tolk's 'ghost' smiled wildly next to Warren. Past the perfect hair, the perfectly chiselled jaw, he finally saw it. The resemblance. Warren was Tolk's brother. Tolk. Who he'd left for dead. His heart beat suddenly accelerated. Meera panicked. What is it Bran? Bran could barely hold another thought. Tolk's brother, he's Tolk's brother.

Warren released Liana's hands, now bloodied. "In fact, I've been thinking. Those two dragons we captured last year are acting up. Won't eat. Growing hostile. We need them if we're to mount an attack on the fox-kin pack that escaped." His eyes found Bran. "I hear our new tamer is skilled with difficult creatures. Perhaps he could help?"

Eyes turned to Bran.

What is he saying Bran? Meera's thoughts bristled with tension. His heart beats too steady for a man who just faced an elite. What is he?

"I'll help," Bran managed. The words barely made it out of his breathless throat.

"Excellent." Warren's teeth gleamed. "I'll be there to ensure your safety, of course."

Rain pelted the windows harder. Thunder growled in the distance. Or perhaps it was the dragons, sensing the storm to come.

I smell human blood on his sword, Bran. He cleaned it. He will kill us all, Meera thought. Just like he killed them.

---

Rain pelted the woods. Branches cracked beneath Bran's feet. Too loud. He'd forgotten how to move silent. Forgotten how to hunt. The wound in his side burned with each step.

Meera's mind touched his. His scent leads west. Strong. Fresh.

Mace circled east through the trees. Three hunters. One prey. Like old times. Except Bran's hands shook. His heart hammered too fast.

They had followed Warren through town. Bran hid in alleys and between shops. The wolves followed further back. Through trees. Over rooftops. They couldn't risk being seen. Alerting the prey.

Warren barely made three steps in town before getting stopped. Thanks for helping to pay for one townsperson's medication. Thanks for speaking sense into some rebellious child. A proposal of marriage listing a daughter's best features. An invitation to be the guest of gonor in a town event. Tears over the loss of his brother. Through it all, he was just the right amount of charming. The right amount of mournful. Perfect.

Finally, Bran had got information that Warren would be headed to the woods at night for his daily workout. It was perfect. No weapons, no witnesses. If they took him by surprise, they might stand a chance. He had to die. Before whatever he was planning for Bran at the dragon taming the next day.

And so, they were tracking him through the woods.

Tolk's ghost lounged against a wet oak trunk. Look at you. Shaking like a pup. You were braver when you watched me die.

Bran's teeth clenched. Shut up. Focus. Warren's trail wound through the dripping forest. Fresh bootprints in mud. Broken twigs. Too obvious.

Wait. Meera's thoughts spiked with alarm. The scent ends.

Tolk's ghost was smiling. Oh, he's got you now.

What do you mean ends? Trace him quick.

Bran found himself shouting in the mental connection. The two wolves scattered.

A branch snapped behind him. Bran spun. Nothing. His breath came short. Fast.

"Beautiful evening for a walk." Warren's voice. Close. Too close.

Bran turned. Warren stood ten paces away. Shirtless. He'd dumped clothes somewhere to confuse them. Skin gleaming with some kind of oil. That's why they'd lost his scent. His smile looked warm. Pleasant. Wrong.

"Though I admit," Warren said, "I expected better tracking from someone of your... talents."

Tolk's ghost circled Warren. Laughing. Oh, he's good. Better than me. Should've picked him to kill instead.

Bran's fingers twitched toward his knife. "Just getting some air."

"Of course." Warren stretched his arms overhead. Muscle rippled beneath slick skin. "I do the same. Nothing like a night workout to clear the mind." His eyes fixed on Bran. "Help you sleep."

He reached out with his mind. The pack was too far away. Scattered.

Warren's head tilted. Like he could see into Bran's mind. "I've been meaning to tell you - I've requested assignment to your hunting party. Now that my brother's position is... vacant."

Cold spread through Bran's chest. "The guild master-"

"Already approved it." Warren's smile widened. "We'll be spending lots of time together. Starting with those dragons tomorrow." He stepped closer. "I'm looking forward to seeing you work. My brother always said you had a special touch with beasts."

Tolk's ghost pressed close to Bran's ear. He knows. He knows exactly what you did to me.

"Get some rest." Warren turned away. "Dragons can be... unpredictable."

He vanished into the shadows. The rain washed away his footprints. Mace and Meera emerged from the trees. In Meera's jaws - scraps of Warren's discarded clothes. Placed like markers. Like he'd wanted them to follow.

He is no prey, Meera thought. He hunted us while we hunted him.

Tolk's ghost grinned. Blood dripping from his ruined throat. Tomorrow will be fun, won't it? Wonder if he'll kill you fast like his party? Or slow... like you did to me?

Bran's legs shook. He stumbled to a tree. Retched until his throat burned. In the distance, Warren's whistling echoed through the rain.

Miles away, in a forest clearing, Warren worked. Muscles burned as he pulled himself up on a branch. Again. Again. Six sets of sixty. The rain had stopped. Good. Wet stone was unreliable.

He dropped to the ground. Checked his markers. Three stones balanced on poles. One at Bran's height. Two at wolf shoulder-level. The bamboo rod felt light in his hands.

Warren closed his eyes. Breathed deep. The rod whistled. Three clean cuts. Three stone heads toppled into mud.

He smiled. Opened his eyes. It felt good to see the world clearly. See it for its brutality. And he was well adjusted. The night's events had made him sure of two things. His brother's death was no accident. And Bran, like him, understood the value of clean, unfeeling brutality. "How interesting. "

The moon broke through clouds. Gleamed on scattered stone. And he smiled. Not a practiced smile. This smile was real.