War Veteran.

The words spread through the village faster than butter melting on fresh bread, carried by whispers, curious glances, and the occasional overenthusiastic shout from the market square. Every villager knew the tale now, and it was all anyone could talk about.

It used to be all about Senan.

Senan defeated the Ender Dragon… Senan braved the Nether… Senan survived the Wither.

Each story layered on top of the last, turning him into a legend in living flesh. People spoke of him with awe, of course, but also with a kind of fond familiarity, as if they had grown up alongside his exploits. But now… something different had arrived in town. Someone whose reputation—or at least the air around her—suggested that a new legend was being written, and this one might rival his own.

Senan’s curiosity flickered, tinged with the faintest irritation, though he rarely showed real emotion except for the occasional clumsy misstep. A seasoned hunter should be measured and welcoming, after all. Not hostile—but certainly not indifferent.

He pushed open the tavern door, the scent of roasted meat and spiced ale hitting him like a warm wave. The murmur of voices faded slightly as the regulars glanced his way, but his dark eyes were already searching. And there she was.

She stood out immediately, a figure of quiet authority in a black uniform gleaming with badges, her hat adorned with a symbolic emblem that marked her rank without words. The room seemed to shrink around her presence, the clatter of mugs and the creak of floorboards fading to background noise. Even her posture hinted at discipline and exhaustion, as if each badge she wore carried not just honor but the weight of battles unseen.

Sliding onto the stool beside her, Senan crossed his arms and signaled the barman for a drink. The liquid fire of the ale soothed the edge of his curiosity as his gaze drifted back to her. There was something peculiar about her—a tension, a quiet melancholy that contrasted sharply with the sharp precision of her uniform. What could a battle-hardened military veteran be doing here, in this small, sleepy village?

Finally, he broke the silence. “Heard you’re new,” he said, voice casual but carrying an undercurrent of challenge. He took a sip of his drink, letting the warmth spread down his chest. “Just passing through, eh?”

Her eyes didn’t lift, her silence deliberate and controlled, each second stretching like a taut bowstring. It was the kind of quiet that commanded attention, that made even Senan pause for a heartbeat. He noted it carefully—not a lack of words, but an unspoken statement. This wasn’t someone to underestimate. Not for him, and not for anyone else in the village.

Senan leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other, his fingers tapping idly against his mug. Interesting… dangerous… maybe even infuriating. A part of him wanted to provoke a reaction, just to see the human beneath the uniform. But another part—the more seasoned, wiser part—told him to wait. Watch. Learn. And, if necessary, prepare.