That night, the sky was no longer the deep black that usually draped the world in quiet calm.
It had turned a blazing crimson.
A deep, blood-red, as if all the blood of every living thing had spilled out and painted the night sky.
Flames rose as high as towers, devouring homes, palaces, and worse—scorching away the hopes of thousands who had lived in everlasting peace.
Explosion after explosion thundered, shaking the earth as if the very axis of the world might split apart. Giant stones crumbled from the defensive walls that for a thousand years had been thought unbreakable.
Screams, sobs, the clash of steel, and the pounding of footsteps blended together—creating the most heart-wrenching symphony of death. And above all the chaos rose the roars of creatures that were never meant to walk upon this earth.
"They've broken through the northern gate!"
A soldier stumbled along the ramparts, his face streaked with blood and dust. His eyes held a deep, unmaskable terror.
"We can't hold them back much longer!"
BOOM!!
Before anyone could reply, a deafening blast struck the watchtower. The sturdy structure snapped clean in two, then crashed down onto the road below. Thick clouds of dust and black smoke filled the air, blinding everyone instantly.
People ran in blind panic. A mother clutched her child tightly, trying to shield them from flying shards of stone. An old man crawled forward, even though one leg had been crushed beneath the rubble. Yet no one could stop this wave of disaster.
For the enemy that came this night was no ordinary army of men. They were the living embodiment of the darkest nightmares. Shadowy figures moved swiftly through the flames, their forms like black mist that swallowed all light, their eyes burning bright red like embers that would never die. With every step they took, life vanished. With every roar they let loose, human courage crumbled like sand before the wind.
"The eastern defenses have fallen!"
"Protect the royal family!"
"Don't let them reach the palace!"
But in the hearts of every soul still breathing, they knew one bitter truth: they were already too late. The greatest, strongest, and most prosperous kingdom in the world was dying—slowly but surely.
At the heart of the kingdom, in the palace courtyard now turned into a sea of bodies and blood that soaked every corner, one figure still stood tall.
Alone.
His body was covered in countless gaping wounds. The black armor he wore was cracked and dented all over, and blood trickled steadily from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the ground at his feet. Yet both hands still gripped tightly a long sword of blackened silver. It looked ancient—far too old for any ordinary weapon—etched with faint, glowing runes that flickered now and then, as if the blade itself held a heartbeat.
Before him stood something far more terrifying than the mind could comprehend. A colossal being, its form shrouded in impenetrable darkness that swallowed all light around it. Great black wings stretched wide across its back, large enough to cover the entire palace. Its eyes burned bright red like two blazing suns. The aura of destruction radiating from it was so powerful that the ground cracked and split open without even being touched.
The man in black armor raised his sword. Though his body threatened to collapse from exhaustion and suffering, though it seemed the whole world had turned against him, he stood firm in his place.
The creature laughed. Its voice echoed, making the air feel heavy and trembling deep within the bones.
"Look around you. Your kingdom has crumbled to dust. Your people have died in misery. Why do you still struggle against something you can never defeat?"
The man said nothing in reply. He only stepped forward. One step. Then another. There was no trace of fear in his eyes—only a resolve as solid as a mountain of ice.
"Because there is still something I must protect."
The creature roared in rage, shaking the very sky. And so the final battle began.
CRASH!!
The black sword clashed against the monster's sharp claws. The shockwave that erupted shattered the entire courtyard; stone pillars flew like dry leaves, windows burst into shards, and the sky seemed to split in two.
The man struck again and again, without pause. Yet every blow he landed only deepened his own wounds. He knew he had reached the very limit of his strength. And his enemy knew it too.
The fight came to an end.
The man fell to his knees upon the ground soaked with his own blood. His sword remained driven deep into the stones, the only thing holding his body upright. Blood dripped steadily from his fingertips, falling slowly to the earth. His breathing came in ragged, weak gasps. In the distance, the sounds of battle still echoed faintly, but they grew quieter by the moment—a clear sign that defeat was inevitable.
Then another figure emerged from the smoke. A woman with white hair, her clothes torn and stained with dust and blood, yet in her arms she held something far more precious than all the gold and jewels in the kingdom.
A baby.
Still so small, still fast asleep in peaceful slumber, as if the world around them was not falling apart and turning to ruin.
The man gazed at the tiny face, and for the first time throughout that terrible night, his hard, scarred features softened. A faint smile, yet full of love, touched his bloodstained lips.
The woman knelt before him, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
"Your Majesty…"
The man shook his head gently—weak, yet firm.
"Take him away."
The woman froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. "But—what of you? I cannot leave you here!"
"Take him away!" His voice rose, trembling with pain yet still carrying the authority of a king.
The woman bit her lip until it hurt, trying to hold back her breaking sobs. "No. I will not go. I will not leave you to face death alone."
The man gave a bitter smile, his eyes glistening. "You have always been stubborn, just as you always were."
Her tears fell faster. "If I leave… you will surely die."
The man turned his gaze back to the child, and spoke in a voice so soft it seemed only the night wind could hear. "If he stays here… they will find him. And there will be nowhere safe in this world for him if I die here."
A piercing silence settled over them, broken only by the roar of fire consuming everything in its path. The man reached out a trembling hand and gently touched the baby's forehead. His eyes trembled, as if trying to etch this memory into his heart forever.
"Protect him. That is my final command. And your final promise to me."
The woman ran with all her might, as if her very life depended on every step. She raced through the palace corridors beginning to crumble, leaping over dangerous rubble and dodging flames that licked at her from all sides. She held the baby tight against her chest, as if fearing that if she loosened her grip even a little, the world would snatch him away.
Explosions continued to thunder behind her. Great stones crashed down from the ceilings. The roars of shadow creatures drew closer, tracking their trail. Yet she did not stop. Not even once. Though blood flowed freely from a deep wound in her shoulder, though her legs ached and threatened to give way, she kept running.
For there was one thing far more important than her own life: the safety of the child she was protecting.
Far beyond the city walls, amid the ruins of an ancient temple long abandoned and overgrown with moss, the woman finally stopped. She gasped for breath, her whole body shaking violently from exhaustion and the cold that bit deep into her bones.
With hands caked in blood and dust, she reached deep into her robes and pulled out a small object. A pendant shaped like a sword—simple in appearance, lacking the shine of royal jewelry. Yet the moment it met the night air, a soft yet brilliant silver light poured from its surface. Intricate ancient symbols appeared on the ground, circling slowly around the stone altar at the room's center, forming a protective barrier.
The woman closed her eyes tightly, tears falling again to wet the pendant.
"Please… protect him. Hide him. Until the time comes, until he is strong enough to bear his fate."
The pendant trembled gently, as if responding to her plea, then absorbed the light around it until it appeared ordinary once more.
The wind that had been blowing fiercely suddenly fell completely still. The world went utterly silent, as if time itself had stopped turning.
The baby in the woman's arms began to glow with shifting light: bright red, then vivid blue, repeating over and over. A strange symbol formed clearly in the air—the shape of a perfect eye, one half red and the other half blue, turning slowly.
The woman's eyes went wide, her body shaking so violently she nearly dropped the child. "No… it cannot be… that symbol…"
The mark appeared only for a moment before fading away and sinking into the baby's skin. But the woman's tears flowed even harder. She knew exactly what the symbol meant. And she knew one painful truth: this child would never be able to live a quiet, ordinary life. A great and heavy destiny was waiting for him in the future.
A night of heavy rain fell upon the small village of Hougwe. The rain poured so hard that thunder rumbled, shattering the stillness. A young woman opened the door of an orphanage after hearing soft but persistent knocking.
CREAK.
The door swung open, and she froze in place. Before her stood a woman with white hair, soaked to the bone, covered in wounds and dust, yet holding a swaddled baby tightly in her arms.
"Good heavens…" The young woman rushed forward, pulling her in from the pouring rain. "What has happened to you? Where have you come from?"
The white-haired woman did not answer. She only placed the baby into the young woman's trembling hands.
"Please take care of him. Give him a name. Raise him as your own child."
The young woman held the baby carefully, her face filled with confusion and pity. "Who is this child? What is his name?"
The white-haired woman gave a faint smile—one that held unspeakable sorrow, as if she were giving away half of her own soul.
"Someday… if fate allows… I will return."
The rain fell even harder, washing over the earth and erasing the traces of blood. The woman bowed her head and gently kissed the baby's still-sleeping forehead. Her tears fell upon his tiny face, mixing with the raindrops.
"Forgive me."
That was all she said. No explanation of who she was, no story of the child's origins, no other message save for her deep plea for forgiveness.
Then she turned and walked away. Step by step, through the heavy rain and the dark of night, until her form was wrapped in a brilliant white light and slowly faded away—as if she had never existed at all.
Hundreds of years passed.
Far to the north of the world, in a place long erased from maps and forgotten by human memory, hidden behind impenetrable mountains of ice, an ancient altar stood grand and silent for all eternity. At its center was driven a massive sword, as tall as a great tree—motionless, soundless, as if it had slept for a thousand years.
But tonight, something was different.
The sword trembled softly. Just a little. Then it shook again, stronger this time, sending vibrations through the entire temple floor. An ancient, deep voice echoed from the depths of time, breaking the silence.
"The heir…"
A heavy, pressing stillness filled the space for a moment. Then the voice spoke again—clearer, stronger, and full of hope long held in wait.
"Still lives."
CRACK…
Behind the altar, a colossal statue that had turned to stone over centuries slowly opened its eyes. They glowed with a faint golden light. And for the first time in a thousand years, something that should have remained asleep began to awaken. Fate had begun to stir.
--------------------------------------------
That morning, the air in the village was refreshingly cool.
A gentle warmth accompanied the rising sun as it slowly emerged from the eastern horizon. Its golden rays filtered through the gaps between lush green leaves, spilling across the world below like a blessing that awoke everything it touched.
The serene beauty of nature added to the peaceful charm of Hougwe Village, a quiet settlement resting on the slopes of Gloosween Hill.
The morning breeze moved softly, brushing against Edward's simple clothes, carrying with it the scents of damp earth and the faint fragrance of blooming wildflowers. Beads of dew clung to blades of grass and rooftops, shimmering white as though fine dust made of light floated through the air.
Villagers were already busy with their daily routines. Farmers, eager to make use of every hour of daylight, headed out to their fields with tools slung across their shoulders.
For them, rising early was second nature, a necessity for survival, and perhaps also a joy. They preferred to greet the day with effort and sweat rather than wasting precious hours lingering in bed.
Edward stood at the edge of the small courtyard of the orphanage, stretching his stiff body after a night spent on a hard, uneven mattress.
His small arms reached upward, and he twisted his waist left and right, trying to shake away the dull ache from his back. With a deep inhale, he drew the fresh air into his lungs, filling every corner of his chest, before exhaling slowly.
"Hah…" he murmured, smiling faintly. "That feels so fresh."
Edward was no ordinary boy. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that his origins were cloaked in mystery. Since birth, he had never known who his parents were, nor where he truly came from.
His earliest memories were of the orphanage, and that alone was the only home he had ever known. He grew up there, among other children, in Hougwe Village—perched high on the slopes of Gloosween, itself part of the vast territory of the Huinjou Kingdom in the western continent of Ethyras.
The orphanage was an old, worn-down building, one that had stood for decades. Cracks marred its wooden walls, some of which leaned precariously. Portions of its roof sagged, and rain sometimes dripped into the hallways during storms.
It had never once been fully renovated, not even after all those years. Yet despite its crumbling structure, it was filled with warmth—the warmth of laughter, sibling-like quarrels, and bonds that made the children within feel like a family.
There had been a moment long ago that Edward would never forget. He had been much younger then, a small boy crying under the shade of a tree, overwhelmed by sorrow. The reality of not knowing who his parents were, of feeling abandoned, had crushed his little heart.
At that moment, Bu Selner—the woman who ran the orphanage—had come to him. She embraced him tenderly and spoke words that remained etched in his memory ever since.
"Edward," she said softly, "when you were still a baby, a beautiful, graceful woman came to me. She entrusted you to my care. She told me that one day, she would return to take you back. Before she left, she placed this necklace in my hands, and asked that I give it to you when you were ready."
It was then that Edward received a necklace....its pendant shaped like a small sword. To him, it was more than a trinket. It was proof that somewhere out there, someone had loved him enough to leave him with hope.
Now, at ten years of age, Edward stood on the cusp of a turning point. In this kingdom, every child, upon reaching their tenth birthday, underwent the Awakening Ceremony...a sacred event where they would receive the gift of mana.
Mana was the mysterious energy flowing through all living beings. It could strengthen the body, heighten senses, and more importantly, serve as the source of powerful magic.
The Awakening was held in the Hall of Ascension, a grand place where the future of countless children was determined. Today was Edward's day. His heart pounded with excitement. He clenched his fists tightly, fire blazing in his eyes, and shouted toward the sky with all his might:
"I will succeed!"
The cry rang out across the courtyard, loud enough to rouse someone nearby.
"Huaaah…" came a sleepy voice. "Edward, what's with all the shouting? It's so early in the morning."
It was Silva, rubbing her eyes as she stepped outside.
Edward scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Uh… sorry, sis. I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm just too excited. I could barely sleep last night. Today's my tenth birthday, and… I can't wait for my mana awakening!"
Silva sighed, pressing her palm against her forehead. "Oh, heavens… for a moment I thought something terrible had happened. Turns out you were just excited about that."
"But, Silva…" Edward pouted. "I really can't wait. Time feels like it's moving so slowly. What's wrong with me for feeling this way?"
Silva crouched down to meet his eyes, her lips curling into a tender smile. Her hand gently ruffled his messy brown hair.
"Silly boy. Of course you're eager it's natural. But listen to me, Edward. The moment you awaken your mana, your life will change. It's not just about excitement.
You need to think about what comes afterward, about the responsibilities you'll carry. Prepare yourself, not just your heart, but your mind too. That's what matters."
Edward froze, her words sinking deep into his thoughts.
"Hey," Silva said, flicking his forehead lightly, "don't just space out. I'll go with you to the Hall of Ascension later, so don't worry. For now, why don't you wake up the others? They've got lessons with Lucy today."
Edward blinked, then quickly nodded. "Right!" He dashed toward the orphanage door but paused for a moment before entering.
From a distance, he looked back at Silva. She stood bathed in the golden glow of morning light, tying up her long black hair while gazing at the sky. For Edward, she seemed almost otherworldly her beauty magnified by the sunlight.
Her long, flowing hair, her sharp yet gentle blue eyes, her elegant lashes, and the delicate curve of her brows. Her lips were soft pink, and her tall frame carried an aura of strength despite her young age. Her skin was pale yet radiant, as if untouched by hardship.
To Edward, she wasn't just beautiful. She was an ideal someone to look up to, someone who had always cared for the orphanage children like her own siblings.
Silva was indeed admired by every child in the home. She was the only biological daughter of Bu Selner, and she carried herself with kindness and responsibility beyond her years.
At just seventeen, she had already achieved what few could dream of—graduating from the prestigious Zanei Academy, one of the finest academies in all of Ethyras.
After her graduation, she had been recruited into the Huinjou Kingdom's front-line defense division as a warrior.
But tragedy had changed her. Three years later, after her mother's death, Silva abandoned the battlefield. Edward still remembered the day she returned. She had stepped through the orphanage gates clad in steel armor, a bloodstained dagger in her hand. Her face was pale, her body trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. That was the day she swore never to fight again. No matter how many letters the kingdom sent demanding her return, she never responded.
"Edward! Why are you standing there daydreaming again?" Silva called, pulling him from his reverie. "Go wake the others. They've got lessons with Lucy soon."
"Got it, Silva!" Edward replied, darting inside.
He passed through the creaky old living room and pushed open the door to the children's shared room. The wooden hinges groaned in protest.
Inside was a modest space, only about three by four meters, where Edward lived alongside Alex, Thomas, Serly, and Alice.
In those four walls, countless memories of laughter, fights, tears, and joy had been made. To Edward, they weren't just friends—they were family.
He strode toward the window and pulled back the worn curtain. Sunlight flooded the room.
"Come on, everyone, wake up! It's morning! Don't forget, you've got lessons with Lucy today!" he shouted.
Alice, the youngest—a five-year-old girl with messy hair—rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Big brother Edward… what time is it?"
"It's already five o'clock. Up you get," Edward said, patting Thomas on the shoulder. The boy groaned, still half-asleep.
One by one, the children began stirring, their tiny hands fumbling to fold their blankets and straighten their beds. Their movements were clumsy but sincere.
"And don't forget," Edward added with authority, "it's your turn for chores today!"
"Yes, big brother!" they chimed in unison.
Edward smiled as he left the room. From afar, he saw little Alice already sweeping the living room floor, her tiny hands gripping a broom almost too big for her. The sight tugged at his heart, reminding him of when she was just a baby, crying endlessly.
Then his gaze shifted to Alex and Thomas outside, sweeping the front yard. The two were mischievous troublemakers, always full of energy, but even they couldn't resist Silva's stern voice when she scolded them.
Suddenly, Edward felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Edward, what are you standing around for? Go help Silva with the cooking," Serly said matter-of-factly before hurrying away.
Edward chuckled softly. Serly, eight years old, was always the bossy one. She loved scolding him, especially about chores, even though she herself couldn't cook. But she was thoughtful and caring despite her sharp tongue.
Edward entered the kitchen and found Silva struggling with vegetables.
"Where were you? Look at this—your sister is about to lose a finger trying to cut these properly. You know I can't cook well," Silva complained.
Edward grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I was checking on the kids for a bit."
"Well, now that you're here, make yourself useful."
He nodded, stepping in. With practiced ease, he handled the spices, stirred the pot, and soon the warm aroma of broth filled the kitchen. Before long, steaming bowls of soup were ready to serve.
"Kids, food's ready!" Silva called out.
The children rushed in, their laughter echoing through the hall as they gathered at the table.
Alex and Thomas were already reaching for their spoons when Silva's stern voice stopped them.
"Alex, Thomas! What's the rule?"
The boys froze, then sheepishly answered, "Wash hands first…" They darted to the basin, leaving the others giggling.
Edward couldn't help but smile at the scene.
"Edward, why are you smiling like that?" Serly asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Nothing," he replied. "Just remembering when they were smaller. They've grown so fast."
Serly's gaze softened. "Yeah… time really does fly. I still remember when I first taught them to read."
Edward nodded silently. This was his family. Whatever awaited him after the Awakening, he knew one thing for sure—he wanted to protect this home.