It was a cold, moonlit night deep within the shadowed forest.
A young boy ran for his life, gasping between sobs as tears streaked down his dirt-covered face. His legs ached. His lungs burned. But he didn't stop.
An arrow had struck his right arm — the wound still fresh, blood soaking through the sleeve of his torn cloak. He clutched it tightly, teeth gritted against the pain. Behind him, no footsteps could be heard, but the howls had already begun.
He glanced back.
He looked back just for a second —CRACK.
A root caught his foot and sent him crashing to the ground, rolling down a shallow slope. His arm slammed into the earth, and he groaned in pain.
"Ah—!"
But no time. No rest.
He pushed himself up.
That's when he heard the growl.
He forced himself up. Can't stop. If I stop, they'll catch me. They'll kill me too.
But before he could move, a deep growl cut through the trees.
A silver-furred wolf, eyes glowing faintly blue, lunged from the shadows and sank its teeth into Kaen's left arm.
Kaen screamed, swinging wildly until his hand found a rock — and struck. Once. Twice. The wolf yelped and staggered back. Blood dripped from its snout. But another emerged from the trees, teeth bared.
Kaen bared his own, blood smeared across his lips." No… I'm not dying here… Not like this…"
He looked at the stone in his hand — trembling, desperate — and held it out in front of him.
"By flame unspoken, by light unbroken… burn!"(Virellum Ignis!)
The stone pulsed — a golden flare bursting through his fingers. Magic. Unstable. Raw. But real. With a cry, Kaen hurled it straight at the charging wolf.
Crack!T he stone slammed into the beast's skull. It crumpled mid-leap, skidding across the earth. Dead. The second wolf froze, eyes wide — and fled into the dark.
Kaen dropped to his knees, panting.
But then — voices. Torches. Barking.
Men were coming. With their own wolves. Kaen's heart slammed in his chest. He turned and ran.
Branches tore at him, the forest thickening. His lungs burned. Blood trailed behind him. Then—an edge. The ground fell away. A steep river cliff yawned before him.
To his left, the river. Ahead, a deadly drop. Behind him — firelight. Snarls. Steel.
He looked to the sky, eyes hollow with exhaustion. He closed his eyes… and jumped.
The wind howled as he fell — then crash — water engulfed him, dragging him into the current. His body screamed in pain. His wound flared. He couldn't resist.
He sank.
Darkness pressed in. Cold. Endless.
And then—A voice.
Soft, fierce, familiar." Live… You must live… for you are—"It faded before the words finished.
Kaen's eyes shot open.
Visions surged through him — his father, betrayed and slain on his own throne…His little brother and sister, cut down in their escape…His mother, bloodied and fading, holding him tight as soldiers broke through the door.
"Run. You must live…"
His fists clenched.
"I must live!" he roared beneath the water. "No matter what… For I am the Crown Prince… and I will have my revenge!"
His hand broke through the surface, trembling. He dragged himself ashore, gasping, choking, barely conscious. On the cliffs above, torchlight still danced. But Kaen moved — step by step, crawling into the woods.
The night passed in agony.
Then, as dawn painted the sky with pale gold, he collapsed on a dirt road.
Silence.
Hooves clopped distantly. A creaky wooden cart rolled toward him.
Kaen's blurred vision caught a silhouette — an old man with a wide hat and thick arms.
"Help…" he whispered, voice barely audible.
The cart stopped. Boots hit the dirt. A man rush toward him.
"Gods… boy, are you alive?!" the man shouted.
Strong arms lifted him. Warmth.
The one who saved him — a man named Hogan.
It was early morning.
Sunlight peeked through the wooden roof of the small house. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of trees and damp earth.
Sang slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to remember where he was. His body felt weak, but at least he wasn't in pain. He sat up on what looked like a simple bed made from straw and cloth. It wasn't soft, but it was warm.
The room around him was small and filled with strange things. Baskets made of vines, tools made of wood and bone, and herbs hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a villager's home — someone who lived close to nature.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
Then he saw something.
A small creature was sitting in the corner.
It had soft, green fur, big round eyes, and two tiny wooden horns on its head. Its body was round like a pillow, and it had small feet and a leafy tail. It looked at Sang without fear — just calm curiosity.
Sang froze. "Hm...?"
The creature didn't move. It tilted its head and blinked slowly, as if trying to understand him.
It didn't speak. It didn't run. It just sat there, breathing gently, as if it lived here — as if this was normal.
Sang stared back at it — a small, moss-colored animal with soft fur and glowing eyes. It looked like a mix between a rabbit and a squirrel, with little wooden antlers on its head.
Then the creature let out a soft chirp and waddled closer, sniffing at Sang's foot. He tensed up instinctively, but it didn't bite or scratch — just sat beside him like it had claimed him as its own.
Sang muttered, "What... are you?"
The Moru tilted its head again and squeaked gently, like it understood the question but couldn't answer with words.
Sang then slowly got up from his bed and realized how thin he has become.He hadn't had a proper meal since arriving in this strange world. His arms felt weak, and his clothes hung loosely on him. He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair.
Everything felt like a dream, yet it's felt so real.
He then walk slowly and try to go outside.
Outside the hut, the air was cool and clean. Birds chirped. Leaves rustled gently in the morning breeze.
He stepped out slowly, shielding his eyes as the sun peeked through misty trees. Around him, houses made of stone and old wood curved naturally into the mountain's shape. Thick vines hugged the walls, and tiny glowing flowers hung from ropes like festival lights.
There were no guards, no shouting, no fear. Just... peace.
Sang looked up. In the sky, faintly visible, was a soft shimmer — a magical barrier, like glass wrapped over the village. It pulsed faintly with silver light, like it was breathing.
He whispered to himself, "Where… am I?"
Behind him, the Moru chirped again and began waddling down the path, looking back as if inviting him to follow.
Sang followed the little creature, the Moru, as it trotted down a narrow path lined with mossy stones and crooked wooden fences.The village was quiet but alive — faint sounds of distant tools, the creak of a water wheel, soft humming from somewhere deeper in the woods. The Moru seemed to know exactly where to go.
Eventually, it led him to a small clearing near a low-built training yard. And that's when Sang saw him.
A young man — tall, with messy yellow hair tied back, wearing a worn leather tunic and wrappings around his arms. His expression was calm but serious, eyes sharp like someone who had seen too much for his age. He was in the middle of practicing with a wooden sword… until he turned and saw Sang.
Their eyes met.
The boy's face lit up.
Without hesitation, he walked straight toward Sang with a bright, genuine smile. The Moru leapt happily between them.
"Hi! Friend, I'm Kaen. Pleasure to meet you!"His voice was cheerful, warm — though his accent was strange and unfamiliar. But somehow, Sang understood every word. Or… not the words exactly, but the meaning behind them.
Kaen held out his hand without fear or hesitation.
Sang blinked, a little stunned by how direct — and sincere — this stranger was. He didn't know why, but the moment their eyes met, he felt something.Warmth.
From inside.Like the warmth of sunlight on a cold day. Like something in him recognized this person — not by memory, but by feeling.
"…Sang," he murmured, quietly placing his hand into Kaen's.
Kaen grinned, shaking it with boyish excitement, not noticing or caring about the awkward silence.Sang couldn't help but stare. There was something strange about Kaen.