6. Hunting Palismen May 2026

The witch hesitated, tears filling her eyes. She knew what "rehabilitation" meant for a palisman—the green goo, the destruction, the quiet.

As the scouts arrived, they found only a broken staff and a confused Golden Guard.

But he didn't run. Something stopped him. The red fox wasn't attacking him—it was looking at him. Not with fear, but with… pity. It was a look that felt raw and real, unlike the cold, distant gaze of his uncle. 6. Hunting Palismen

"It got away," Hunter told them, his voice shakier than he cared to admit.

He didn't run away. Instead, he snapped his staff, using its energy to create a diversion—a blinding flash of light—and forced the fox into a nearby, safe hiding spot, whispering, "Run." The witch hesitated, tears filling her eyes

Belos needed palismen. The scouts were ordered to snatch them from the unsuspecting witches of the market.

Hunter stepped through the market stalls, his golden boots clicking on the petrified wood flooring. He saw a small, elderly witch desperately clutching a wooden bat-like creature to her chest. She was trembling. Hunter didn't feel the thrill of the hunt; he felt a dull, familiar ache—the same one that whispered that he wasn't doing enough. But he didn't run

Just as Hunter reached out, a bright streak of blue fire and magic slammed into the stall, knocking a crate of screaming mandarins into the air. "Leave her alone, you masked menace!"