Under the blood-red beams of the full Harvest Moon, the dungeon felt even more oppressive. Levi stood on a rocky ledge overlooking a valley, where the moonlight washed the landscape in eerie crimson hues. The jagged rocks and twisted vegetation seemed to writhe in the shadows, as if alive and reaching out. Somewhere below, the Harvester was said to roam, drawn by the pull of his namesake moon. Legend said that the Harvester, an ancient, restless spirit, emerged only under the full Harvest Moon, collecting the souls of those too bold or too foolish to seek shelter.

Levi considered the risks carefully. Safety was never a guarantee in the dungeon, and tonight was a different beast entirely. The Harvester was no mere rumor, not some distant threat. Many Coursers had spoken of seeing the figure—towering and cloaked in shadows, scythe gleaming under the blood moonlight, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

The intelligent Dungeon Courser wasn’t one for superstition, but he knew when to listen to the stories, especially those that had persisted through generations. The moon above gave him an unsettling feeling in his chest, a heaviness that lingered in the back of his mind like a warning bell.

Levi glanced back toward the safety of the crumbling ruins behind him. The shelter wasn’t much—barely a nook within a collapsed wall—but it was far enough from the open where he might avoid the Harvester’s gaze. On any other night, Levi would choose to press forward, torch in hoof, searching for forgotten treasures or new paths. But tonight…

He glanced down into the valley again. His ears twitched, picking up on the faintest of noises carried on the cool breeze. Was that… a rustling in the trees below? Or was it the distant scrape of the Harvester’s scythe? Levi’s heart rate quickened, but he forced himself to focus. No need to panic. Panic would get him killed.

Should he risk facing the Harvester, or was retreating the wiser choice? Something inside Levi rebelled against the idea of hiding. He was a Dungeon Courser, after all—bred for courage, intellect, and navigating danger. Wasn’t this what he trained for? But still, the stories of the Harvester were unlike any of the challenges he had encountered before.

The wind picked up, carrying a chill with it that had no place in the sweltering heat of the dungeon’s lower levels. Levi’s skin prickled as if he could feel eyes upon him. Every shadow seemed to shift in his periphery, but when he turned to look, there was nothing.

Then, a sound—soft at first but growing louder—cut through the stillness: the rhythmic clang of metal against stone, deliberate and slow, as though some unseen figure were dragging a heavy blade along the ground. Levi’s ears pinned back, his instincts screaming at him to retreat. But curiosity was a stubborn thing, and his pride even more so.

Torch in hoof, Levi descended from the ledge, picking his way carefully down the rocky path toward the valley floor. The light from the torch seemed feeble in the face of the blood-red moonlight, but it was a comfort nonetheless. Each step felt heavier than the last, the air growing thicker, colder.

As he neared the valley floor, the temperature plummeted. The once-stifling heat of the dungeon was replaced by a bone-deep chill that gnawed at his muscles. Levi paused, torch raised, scanning the dark horizon. The shadows shifted and danced, but nothing revealed itself.

Then, in the distance, Levi saw movement—a tall figure silhouetted against the crimson glow of the moon. The figure seemed to float rather than walk, gliding with an unnatural grace that set every hair on Levi’s body on edge. The Harvester.

Levi’s first instinct was to retreat, to scramble back up the rocky path and seek shelter in the ruins. But something kept him rooted in place, a mix of fascination and defiance. He had heard the tales of the Harvester all his life, but to see it in the flesh—or whatever passed for flesh in that ethereal form—was something else entirely.

The Harvester’s cloak billowed around him as if caught in a wind that only he could feel. His face, if he had one, was obscured by shadows, and the only thing that gleamed in the moonlight was the curved blade of his scythe. It was as long as Levi was tall, and the edge seemed to shimmer with a life of its own.

The figure stopped, and for a moment, there was silence—so complete that even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Then, slowly, the Harvester turned toward Levi.

The blood pounded in Levi’s ears as the figure began to move toward him, the scythe scraping along the ground, leaving a deep gouge in the earth. He should have run. He should have turned tail and galloped back to the safety of the ruins, but his legs refused to cooperate. He stood, transfixed, as the Harvester glided ever closer.

Levi wasn’t sure if it was bravery or stupidity that made him take a step forward, his torch held high. “What do you want?” he called, his voice sounding far too small in the vastness of the valley.

The Harvester did not respond. Instead, he raised his scythe, the blade glinting in the red moonlight. Levi’s heart lurched, and finally, his body reacted. He jumped back, hooves skidding on the rocky ground as the scythe cleaved through the space where he had just been standing.

“Too close,” he muttered to himself, his heart hammering in his chest. “Way too close.”

Levi backpedaled, trying to put distance between himself and the spectral figure, but the Harvester was relentless, moving with a speed that belied his towering form. The scythe swung again, and this time, Levi barely dodged in time, the blade missing him by a hair’s breadth.

Levi’s mind raced. He couldn’t outrun the Harvester, not in the open. He needed a plan, something to turn the tide in his favor. But what could he do against a creature that was more myth than reality?

His eyes darted around, searching for anything he could use to his advantage. The valley was barren, save for the twisted vegetation and jagged rocks. The only thing that stood out was the moonlight itself, casting long shadows across the ground.

An idea formed in his mind, risky but better than nothing. Levi darted toward one of the larger rocks, positioning himself so that the moonlight cast his shadow long and exaggerated against the valley floor. The Harvester’s gaze followed the movement, fixating on the shadow rather than Levi himself.

With a burst of speed, Levi dashed to the side, circling around the rock and into the Harvester’s blind spot. The figure hesitated, its scythe swinging toward the shadow, but Levi was already gone, sprinting back up the rocky path toward the ruins.

He didn’t stop until he was safely inside, his chest heaving and legs trembling from the effort. The Harvester hadn’t followed, and for the moment, the valley was silent once more.

Levi collapsed against the stone wall, his heart still racing. He had survived the encounter, but just barely. The Harvester wasn’t a foe to be taken lightly, not even by the most seasoned of Dungeon Coursers.

As he sat there, catching his breath, Levi glanced up at the blood-red moon. The Harvester would be out for the rest of the night, and there would be others like Levi who weren’t so lucky. But he had made it, and that was what mattered.

For now that was.

Levi stayed pressed against the cold stone wall, letting his breathing slow while his mind reeled. He hadn't expected to survive an encounter with the Harvester, much less escape it. The adrenaline pumping through his veins began to subside, but the questions in his mind grew louder.

Why hadn’t the Harvester followed him? The creature had moved with terrifying speed and purpose when it had attacked, but once Levi had reached the shelter, the Harvester had simply vanished back into the crimson fog of the valley. Was it because Levi was no longer in the open, no longer vulnerable under the Harvest Moon’s eerie light? Or was there something more to it?

His ears twitched at the faint sounds that filtered into the shelter. The dungeon was never completely silent, but tonight, it felt as though every noise carried more weight, more significance. The distant echoes of dripping water, the occasional creak of shifting stone, even the faint rustling of unseen creatures in the dark—everything seemed amplified under the influence of the blood moon.

Levi wasn’t the type to sit idly and wait for danger to pass. He preferred calculated risks, carefully weighed choices, but this night was testing even his cautious nature. The Harvester wasn’t just another creature of the dungeon—he was something far older, far more dangerous, and far more deliberate.

The thought of staying hidden all night crossed his mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly. There was something nagging at him, a pull he couldn’t ignore. The Harvester hadn’t come for him specifically, that much was clear. But why had the creature attacked? And what would happen if Levi left the valley and others stumbled into its grasp?

Levi shifted his weight and looked out into the valley once more. The blood-red light of the moon cast long shadows over the landscape, distorting the shapes of rocks and trees into grotesque, misshapen forms. It was as though the very world had twisted under the moon’s gaze, becoming something unnatural. Something dangerous.

With a grunt, Levi stood. His torch had burned low, the magical flame flickering in the oppressive atmosphere. He’d need to reignite it soon if he was going to continue his journey, but that wasn’t his main concern. The Harvester was still out there, and Levi wasn’t about to let himself be hunted again.

As he considered his next move, Levi’s thoughts wandered back to the Harvester’s legends. The creature was a collector of souls, particularly those of adventurers who had ventured too far into the dungeon or those who dared to challenge the balance of the moon. But there had been tales—whispers, really—of those who had faced the Harvester and lived. Some had claimed to bargain with the creature, to strike deals or gain its favor, though such stories were often dismissed as fantasy.

Still, there was no denying the power that radiated from the Harvester. Levi had felt it—cold, ancient, and beyond anything else in the dungeon. What kind of entity was the Harvester, really? And more importantly, what did it want?

The longer he stood there, the more his curiosity gnawed at him. What if this wasn’t just about survival? What if he could learn something from this encounter? A creature as old as the Harvester surely held knowledge, secrets that had been lost to time. Was it worth the risk to seek answers?

He had two choices: stay hidden and wait for the night to pass, or venture out and confront the Harvester once more. Neither option was particularly appealing, but Levi’s mind had already made up for him.

He couldn't turn away from this.

Drawing a deep breath, Levi reignited his torch, the magical flame sparking back to life in a steady glow. He stepped cautiously out of the shelter and into the valley once more. The wind seemed to pick up as soon as he re-entered the open, chilling him to the bone. The Harvester’s presence lingered in the air, though the figure itself was nowhere to be seen.

Levi walked slowly, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. He passed the twisted trees and jagged rocks, their shadows reaching out like skeletal hands. The valley floor stretched out before him, bathed in the crimson light of the Harvest Moon, and the oppressive silence pressed down on him from all sides.

But this time, Levi wasn’t running. He was searching.

He wandered for what felt like hours, the landscape around him seeming to warp and twist the deeper he went into the valley. At one point, he stopped and looked behind him, only to realize that the path back to the shelter had vanished. The dungeon often played tricks on adventurers’ minds, but this was different. The valley itself seemed to have shifted, the ground rearranged in some way that made it impossible to retrace his steps.

Levi clenched his jaw and pressed forward. There was no turning back now.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a flicker of movement in the distance. The Harvester, gliding through the valley like a wraith, the blade of his scythe gleaming in the blood-red moonlight. Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, but this time, he didn’t falter.

He approached cautiously, keeping a respectful distance. The Harvester had paused near the base of a large rock formation, his scythe held loosely at his side. For a moment, Levi thought the figure might be unaware of his presence, but then the Harvester turned slowly, fixing him with a gaze that felt like a weight pressing down on his very soul.

Levi swallowed hard but didn’t back down. “What are you?” he asked, his voice steady despite the fear coiling in his chest. “Why do you hunt us?”

The Harvester did not speak, but there was a shift in the air, a subtle ripple that sent a chill down Levi’s spine. The creature raised its scythe, but this time, it did not swing. Instead, the blade hovered in the air, pointing directly at Levi.

For a long, tense moment, nothing happened. Then, without warning, the Harvester moved, gliding toward Levi with terrifying speed. But this time, instead of attacking, the creature stopped just short of him, the tip of the scythe resting on the ground between them.

Levi tensed, ready to defend himself, but the Harvester remained still. The creature’s presence was overwhelming, its very being radiating a sense of ancient power and inevitability. Levi felt small in its shadow, but he refused to be cowed.

“You want something,” Levi said, more a statement than a question. “But what is it?”

The Harvester tilted its head, the shadows around its form shifting like smoke. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, it tapped the ground with the tip of the scythe, carving a shallow line into the earth. The line twisted and turned, forming a symbol that Levi recognized instantly.

A pentacle, with two Coursers’ heads laid over it, each biting the other’s neck.

Levi’s eyes widened. He had seen that sigil before, deep in the dungeon, on ancient ruins and forgotten armor. It was the mark of a long-lost order of warriors, humans who had once ruled the surface world alongside the Coursers. But that was centuries ago, before the fall of the Kingdom.

“Why…?” Levi began, but the words died in his throat as the Harvester slowly turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.

Levi was left standing in the crimson light of the Harvest Moon, his mind racing with questions that had no answers. The sigil, the Harvester, the dungeon itself—everything was connected, but how?

He wasn’t sure what he had just witnessed, but one thing was certain: the dungeon’s secrets ran far deeper than he had ever imagined. And now, he was more determined than ever to uncover them.

But that would have to wait for another night.

As the first light of dawn began to break, Levi turned and began the long journey back to the surface, his torch flickering in the growing light. The Harvest Moon had faded, but its mysteries lingered, and Levi knew that the Harvester was still out there, waiting.