Arc 1 Chapter 3: The Hellhound

The forest was unnervingly silent, the usual hum of insects and rustling leaves swallowed by an oppressive stillness. Irelia crouched low, blades drawn, the runes etched into them casting a pale blue glow against the darkness. The air carried the faint, acrid scent of sulfur—a telltale sign that the beast lurked just beyond the trees.

Her emerald-green eyes swept the clearing, every muscle in her body coiled with anticipation. And then she saw them—twin pinpricks of red, glowing faintly in the shadows like embers waiting to ignite.

Her breath hitched, fingers tightening around the hilts of her blades. Fire. Darkness. Sulfur. The signs stirred something deep in her memory, a knowledge buried in ancient texts and half-forgotten whispers.

Her pulse pounded. The realization clawed its way to the surface.

No.

It couldn’t be.

And yet, the evidence stood before her.

The beast stepped into the moonlight, its massive form shifting between solid and immaterial like smoke caught in the wind. Its black fur rippled, the edges dissolving and reforming as though it barely belonged in this world. Fangs like polished obsidian gleamed beneath its snarling maw, sharp enough to rend flesh from bone. A low, guttural growl rumbled from its throat—deep, resonant, and unnatural, vibrating through the very air.

Irelia exhaled sharply, barely above a whisper.

“Hellhound.”

A creature of myth. A beast of the Underworld. The hounds of Veyra, Goddess of Death. The Silent One. The Keeper of the Veil. These creatures roamed the fiery lands of the dead, guardians of the boundary between life and the afterlife. They did not belong here.

Why is it here?

Her mind raced. Veyra was not a vengeful goddess. She did not send her hounds to hunt the living—she merely guided lost souls to their final journey. To see one in the mortal realm was… wrong.

Irelia tightened her grip, her knuckles turning white.

“This isn’t right,” she murmured. Her voice was barely audible over the quiet thrum of power in the air. Her gaze locked onto the creature, and for the first time in years, a shiver of unease crept down her spine.

“You don’t belong here.”

The hellhound’s growl deepened, a low, guttural rumble that resonated through the clearing. It was almost as if it had understood her words—and taken offense. Its glowing red eyes narrowed with predatory intent as it prowled forward, each step slow and deliberate, savoring the hunt.

Irelia’s instincts screamed at her to move, to fight, but the weight of realization held her still for a fraction too long. The sulfuric air burned in her lungs as her mind raced.

Had the Veil weakened? Or had something—someone—torn it open?

She had no time to dwell on the thought. The hellhound lunged, claws raking through the earth as it closed the distance with terrifying speed.

Instinct overrode hesitation. With a flick of her wrist, she threw one of her daggers, and in the blink of an eye, she vanished—reappearing ten feet away as the beast’s claws slashed through empty air.

She retaliated immediately, her fingers tracing rapid sigils in the air. A barrage of razor-sharp ice shards shot forward, striking the beast dead on. Frost crackled across its smoky fur, slowing its movements just enough.

"Good. It’s vulnerable to ice."

But the hellhound was far from finished. It twisted unnaturally, its body shifting as if made of living smoke, and lunged again. Irelia met it head-on, her blades flashing as they intercepted its strikes. The ice runes along the steel pulsed with cold energy, each hit leaving behind frostbite-like wounds.

Yet the beast was relentless. It moved like a shadow, flickering in and out of sight, striking from angles impossible to predict. One moment, Irelia had the advantage—the next, pain seared through her side as the hellhound’s claws tore through her armor, sending her crashing against a tree.

The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Pain radiated through her ribs as her vision blurred.

Through the haze, she saw the hellhound stalking toward her, its molten claws flexing, its red eyes glowing with quiet, inevitable hunger.

Her fingers tightened around her blade, but before she could react—

A small rock whizzed through the air and struck the hellhound square on the snout.

The beast froze.

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“Over here, you overgrown mutt!”

Pip’s voice rang out, high-pitched but unmistakably defiant. He stood on a nearby rock, slingshot in hand, a crooked grin on his face.

The grin faltered the moment the hellhound turned toward him with a growl, its expression wholly unimpressed.

"Pip, what are you doing?!" Irelia snapped, forcing herself upright.

"Buying you time," Pip called back, loading another rock. He let it fly, striking the hellhound again. It snarled, charging toward him. Pip leaped down, darting between trees with surprising nimbleness.

Smoke bombs erupted around him as he ran, their thick plumes filling the air. For a moment, it seemed like the hellhound was disoriented, but then it reappeared, unbothered by the smoke.

"Oh, great," Pip muttered, narrowly dodging a swipe of its claws. "Of course it can see through smoke. Why wouldn’t it?"

Irelia pushed past her pain, raising her hand and conjuring a teleportation runestone. It appeared on Pip’s belt in a flash of light. She shouted, "Pip, touch the runestone if it gets too close. I’ll teleport to you."

"Noted!" Pip yelled, dodging another attack. Despite his fear, he kept up his steady stream of distractions, hurling stones and insults with equal fervor.

Irelia took advantage of the hellhound’s divided attention. She quickly set a series of runes on the ground, each one glowing faintly as she activated them. Immobilizing runes intertwined with elemental ice runes, creating a layered trap. The magic pulsed faintly, ready to spring.

"Pip!" she called. "Lead it toward me."

"Easy for you to say!" Pip retorted, weaving through the trees. Despite his protests, he angled toward Irelia, his small size and agility keeping him just ahead of the beast’s snapping jaws.

As the hellhound lunged for Pip, Irelia stepped into its path, her blades drawn. Her heart pounded as she stared into its glowing eyes. The beast growled, its muscles coiling for a fatal leap.

"Now," she whispered, activating the teleportation rune. In an instant, she vanished, reappearing safely behind the trap.

The hellhound landed squarely on the rune field. The immobilizing runes flared to life, tendrils of magic binding its legs and sapping its strength. Simultaneously, the ice runes erupted in a wave of frost, encasing the beast in a thick layer of ice.

Irelia didn’t hesitate. Channeling her mana, she unleashed a barrage of ice and water spells, each strike cracking the beast’s icy prison further. With a final, devastating blow, the hellhound shattered, its form disintegrating into ash and shadows.

Silence fell over the forest once more.

Pip emerged cautiously, his slingshot dangling from his hand. "Did we just… did we win?"

Irelia sank to her knees, breathing heavily. "Yes, we won." She looked up at him, her expression a mix of exasperation and begrudging respect. "You shouldn’t have been here. You could’ve gotten yourself killed."

Pip shrugged, his usual grin creeping back. "Maybe. But you needed help. And hey, I wasn’t bad for a rookie, was I?"

Irelia sighed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Not bad, Pip. Not bad at all."

His cheeks reddened slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

The moment of victory shattered as Pip’s gaze drifted toward the remains the hellhound had been feasting on before the battle. His face went pale, his body suddenly stiff, and his slingshot slipped from his fingers, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

His voice trembled. “Is that…?” He swallowed hard, pointing with a shaking finger. “That’s not… it’s not one of them, is it?”

Irelia placed a steady hand on his shoulder, grounding him in silence. She followed his gaze, her sharp eyes sweeping over the mangled corpse with the cold precision that Pip could never bring himself to muster.

Not a halfling. Not one of Pip’s friends. Not even one of the two rookies from before.

The remains belonged to a knight. The tattered leather armor, though torn and stained with blood, bore the faded insignia of the Morning Flame. A scout, most likely—not a warrior. Someone who had been tracking something through these woods. Or perhaps something had been tracking him.

Pip’s knees wobbled, and he hugged his arms to his chest. “This… this isn’t supposed to happen. People aren’t supposed to end up like that.”

Irelia crouched beside him, her voice calm, unwavering. “Pip, the world doesn’t care about supposed to.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it didn’t offer false comfort either. “This is the reality we live in—monsters come in all shapes and forms. Some walk on four legs. Some wear crowns. Some smile at you before driving a blade into your back.”

Pip turned to her, his hazel eyes wide, glistening with unshed tears. He looked younger than ever, stripped of his usual bravado, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “I… I’ve seen bad things before. On the road. But nothing like this.”

Irelia squeezed his shoulder, firm but gentle. “You’re not supposed to be used to it. Hold onto that, Pip. It’s what makes you better than most.”

He exhaled shakily, nodding.

Drawing a deep breath, Irelia turned her focus back to the ground, scanning the tracks surrounding the body. What she found made her frown. The pattern of footprints told a clear, unsettling story—the knight hadn’t stumbled upon the hellhound.

The hellhound had hunted him.

Her expression darkened as she traced the direction of the tracks. They led eastward, straight toward their worst-case scenario.

“It’s heading for the ruins,” she muttered.

Pip blinked, his fear momentarily replaced by confusion. “The Crumbling Waste? The ruins you mentioned earlier? The cursed ones?”

“Not just cursed,” Irelia said, rising to her feet. “Ancient. Dangerous. And far from abandoned, it seems.”

The reappearance of a mythic creature after millennia, the Morning Flame operating in this remote part of the Bastion Peaks, and now a trail leading directly into those ruins…

Her instincts screamed that this was no coincidence.

She tightened her grip on her blades, scanning the darkened treeline. “Stay sharp,” she said quietly. “This is far from over.”