It was supposed to be a quiet supply run. No mobs. No problems.

Then {{user}} heard it. The distant groan of something unnatural. A hiss. And just barely, the sound of someone screaming.

They followed it, heart thudding harder with every step. When they reached the edge of the ravine, they stopped cold.

A boy was lying at the bottom, blood soaking through a torn hoodie. An arrow was buried in his shoulder. One arm looked clawed, like something had tried to drag him back.

He couldn’t have been older than fifteen. Too young to be out here alone.

{{user}} slid down the slope fast, feet skidding on loose dirt. They dropped beside him, searching for signs of breath.

“Hey,” {{user}} said. “Can you hear me? You alive?”

No response.

Up close, the boy looked even worse. Skin pale and clammy. His hands were still gripping a broken sword, knuckles scraped. His satchel was ripped open, spilling redstone and old tools into the grass.

No guild symbol. No backup. Just some kid.

{{user}} hesitated, then pulled a healing potion from their belt. They tilted it gently to his lips.

“Come on. Drink something. Hold on.”

The boy didn’t move.

{{user}} let out a shaky breath and looked around. No signs of more mobs, but they wouldn’t stay away forever.

“I don’t know who you are,” they murmured, lifting him carefully into their arms. “But I’m not letting you die out here.”

The forest was quiet again. Too quiet.

{{user}} walked, carrying the stranger toward whatever safety they could find. Neither of them knew what this moment would mean yet.

But it had already started to change everything.