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Name: Enzo Malvaran

Avater name: Kilgar

Rank: Tyrant (Weakened)

Race: Spirit of the hunt and nature

Weakness : prone to outbursts of violence

Innate abilities: Call of the wild, Beast talk, Word of nature, Transformation]

After three days in Greenwood Forest, Enzo finally began to understand the weight of the existence he had replaced. It was not a simple possession or borrowed flesh. It was a life soaked into the land itself, roots and blood tangled together. Every breath he took carried the scent of moss, sap, and old rain.

The forest watched him, not with hostility, but with a wary familiarity, as if it was still deciding whether to accept the soul now wearing its guardian's name.

Kilgar.The spirit of Greenwood Forest and the hunt.

He was not merely a protector. He was law given form. When tribes clashed and the ground drank too much blood, he descended. When drought cracked the earth and beasts turned on one another, his voice answered.

Disputes between powerful clans, the arrogance of outsiders, the imbalance of life and death, all of it fell under his authority. He and his family were bound to the forest in a way no mortal could ever be. They did not rule from thrones but from instinct, sacrifice, and ancient duty passed through spirit and flesh alike.

Then came the night that shattered everything.

A month ago, Kilgar had awakened to screams that tore through the stillness of the forest. His wife's voice, raw with terror and pain, carved itself into his mind. He had rushed through the dwelling, heart pounding, only to be met with a horror that refused to fade no matter how many times Enzo relived it through lingering memories. Empty beds soaked in blood.

Small bodies twisted unnaturally, lifeless eyes staring into nothing. The scent of iron clung to the air, thick enough to choke on. His children had been butchered without mercy, their laughter erased in a single night.

The forest had howled with him, but it had not been enough.

That grief never found rest. It festered, rotted, and turned inward, leaving behind a madness that pulsed beneath every thought. Rage came suddenly, violently, without warning. It was not weakness born of frailty, but of love torn away too cruelly. The system named it plainly, but Enzo felt the truth of it in every tightening of his chest.

Also.

"There it is."

Standing atop the crown of a towering tree, bark rough beneath his feet, Enzo stared into the distance. Beyond the rolling green and endless canopy, stone and light rose together in breathtaking defiance of nature. Towers carved with glowing runes pierced the sky, streets weaving like veins of light between them. Walls grand enough to humble the forest itself enclosed the city, untouched by decay or ruin.

Rune City.

This was when Rune City still stood whole, radiant, and unbroken. When it remained a vital heart of the Divine Kingdom of Life, untouched by whatever calamity history had buried it under.

"I pray unto the spirit of the forest, bring for us a bountiful harvest and grant us your consolation."

As Enzo stood admiring the distant city, the words slipped into his awareness like drifting smoke. Ethereal whispers brushed against his ear canals, soft yet insistent, carrying desperation beneath their reverence. His expression shifted, admiration fading as a frown slowly took shape.

"There it is."

He closed his eyes and focused, attuning himself to the direction of the plea. Shadows gathered instinctively around his form, wrapping him in a familiar chill before he phased through them, gliding from tree to tree, closer and closer to the source of the prayer.

From Kilgar's memories, this was nothing unusual. The denizens of Greenwood often prayed this way, offering scraps of food or whispered vows in exchange for protection, rain, or guidance. They called his name when the forest felt cruel or uncertain, when beasts grew restless or crops failed to bloom.

Unfortunately, he was not a god. Not yet.

When prayers reached him, he still had to answer them the old way. By walking the forest. By bleeding if necessary. By finding the ones who called and solving their troubles with his own hands. That duty had been bestowed upon Kilgar by the Life Monarch himself, a responsibility woven into his very existence.

Since Enzo arrived, though, he had always been too late. The prayers faded before he could reach them. Something held him back. The loss of flight, perhaps. Or something deeper. His power felt distant, dulled, as though the forest itself was mourning and refused to fully answer him.

Fortunately, this time—

Voom.

The world snapped back into place.

He appeared in a small clearing just as a goblin like creature knelt before a woven basket filled with fruit gone soft and blackened. The stench of rot hung in the air, sweet and sour at once. The creature's hands trembled as it bowed its head, shoulders hunched in fear and hope alike.

"Huh?"

The goblin turned toward the trees behind it, eyes widening. Its body jolted as if struck by lightning, then it scrambled backward in panic, claws skidding across the dirt. In its haste, it crawled straight into the basket, tipping it over and sending spoiled fruit spilling across the ground.

"Calm down, you called for me."

Enzo raised his hands slowly, palms open, his voice low and steady as he took a careful step forward. He meant no harm, and he let that intention flow into the air, hoping the forest would echo it for him.

Instead, the creature grew more frantic.

It shrieked softly, spun around, and bolted, tiny legs pumping as it fled through the undergrowth like its life depended on it. Leaves scattered in its wake, branches snapping as it vanished into the trees.

Enzo stopped where he was.

"Ahh? Do I look scary?"

He stared at his own hands, then at the shadows clinging faintly to his body. A deep frown settled onto his face as silence reclaimed the clearing. No footsteps. No prayers. Just the quiet breathing of the forest and the smell of spoiled offerings at his feet.

Three days.

He had not met a single soul since arriving here. No conversations. No answers. Only memories and echoes of a life drenched in tragedy. The thought crept in uninvited, heavy and persistent.

Maybe it was time to go to Rune City.

If the forest would not speak to him, then perhaps the remnants of civilization would.

As he turned to leave, a sudden disturbance caught his attention. Branches snapped softly in the distance, followed by the hurried rhythm of uneven footsteps. A figure burst through the undergrowth, moving with clear intent despite the weakness in her stride, one hand pressed tightly against her stomach as dark stains bled through her fingers.

"Hm?"

Enzo frowned, pushing his black silver hair back as his gaze sharpened. Without hesitation, he shifted direction and began to follow.

Despite her injuries, the figure moved with surprising skill. She weaved through trees, slipped into thick scrubs, vanished behind uneven terrain, only to reappear far ahead moments later. Her movements were fluid, practiced, almost instinctive. She did not run wildly. She ran like someone who knew the forest and knew how to survive in it.

If not for Enzo's heightened sense of tracking, the chase would have ended quickly. Even with Shadow Step at his disposal, keeping pace required focus. Every broken twig, every displaced leaf spoke to him, forming a trail invisible to most eyes.

Something else caught his attention.

Counter tracking.

Her scent was masked with crushed leaves and sap. Footprints were deliberately obscured. Paths were doubled back on before sharply diverging. These were not the actions of a panicked civilian. Yet Enzo was certain of one thing. She did not know he was following her. That realization only deepened his confusion. Why move with such care if she believed herself alone.

The answer came moments later.

"Don't let her escape. Burn this forest to the ground if you have to."

The shout echoed from far behind, carried by force and authority rather than distance. Several men on horseback roared commands into the trees, their presence slamming into Enzo's senses like a blunt strike. The forest itself reacted. Leaves shuddered. Roots tightened beneath the soil. An instinctive tension coiled in his chest.

This was his domain.

Such intrusion did not go unnoticed.

The forest whispered to him, not in words, but in urgency. A demand. A reminder of duty. Stop them. Protect the land. Prevent the harm that threatened to spread like fire, literal or otherwise.

Enzo exhaled slowly.

"Hehe, I'm not too sure I can fight a demigod…"

The words slipped out as a quiet sigh. He could feel it now. The presence leading that group was heavy, oppressive, anchored in divinity. A demigod. Even in his weakened tyrant state, Enzo knew better than to believe victory would come easily. Power alone would not bridge that gap, not in his current condition.

But that did not mean he was helpless.

His gaze returned to the fleeing figure ahead, her steps growing heavier, her breathing more labored with every passing second.

He could not confront the hunter.

But he could save the prey

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