The bear leapt over the cave's entrance, sealing it with a thunderous landslide of rocks.
Moner stood frozen, heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.
This might be the end, he thought.
The creature was massive—its fur dark and matted, its breath steaming in the cold air.
But its eyes… they glowed like embers, burning through the shadows with primal fury.
It roared, the sound echoing off the stone walls like a curse awakened.
Moner turned and ran. He didn't think—he couldn't. His lantern flickered weakly, barely keeping the dark at bay. Behind him, the beast thundered after him, each step shaking the ground.
Suddenly—
Crash!
He slammed into a jagged pillar and fell hard, gasping as pain flared through his side.
But he couldn't stop.
He forced himself up, stumbling forward, deeper into the cave… but it was no use. The path ended in solid rock. The exit was gone.
A wave of despair swept over him.
Then, something strange.
He saw himself—no, a vision of himself—standing in the darkness. Covered in iron from head to toe. Both fists gripping a steel blade, flames dancing in his palms. The vision scoffed, almost amused.
"Why the hell am I hallucinating instead of running?"
And then, the vision stepped toward him—and merged into him.
Metal surged.
Moner screamed—not from fear, but from something awakening inside him. Armor flowed over his body like liquid steel. A massive blade extended from his forearm. Fire and molten lava erupted from his hands.
The bear lunged.
With instinct, Moner raised his arm and hurled lava at its face.
A horrible roar followed—painful, enraged. Flesh sizzled, fur caught fire. Blinded, the beast staggered.
It charged again, wildly.
Moner met it head-on. With all his strength, he swung his fiery blade and sliced off one of its arms.
But the bear, in its fury, struck him back—hard.
He flew across the cave, smashing into another pillar. The armor saved his life, but pain exploded through his body. He gasped, struggling to breathe.
The bear, bleeding and enraged, began picking up rocks—hurling them blindly in his direction.
Moner rolled, dodged. One rock clipped his shoulder, sending sparks flying.
He winced but kept going.
He crept around the edge of the cave, silently. Then—he threw a stone to the far side. The bear heard it and turned.
Now.
Moner rushed in.
With a roar of his own, he leapt onto its back and drove his blade into the base of its skull.
A final groan.
The beast collapsed.
Silence.
Moner stood over the body, chest heaving. The flames faded. The metal vanished.
His knees gave out. He fell, shaking, bruised and broken—but alive.
Then he began to cry.
All he could think of was Novamelle.
Had the bear killed her? Was she still alive?
He stumbled through the cave, calling her name again and again. No answer. Then, a dreadful thought crept in—
Did the bear… eat her?
Driven by horror, Moner shakily cut open the bear's stomach. His hands trembled. But—no. She wasn't there.
As he searched every corner, something glittered in the darkness. In a secluded corner of the cave lay the very thing that had brought them here—three celestial gems, glowing with a blue, ethereal light.
He picked them up, awestruck—but the joy was hollow without Novamelle.
"Where is she?" he whispered. "Is she alive? She must be…"
He didn't hesitate. He rushed to the sealed entrance and struck it with his sword. Blow after blow, until the rocks finally gave way.
He stepped outside, scanning the wild terrain. Maybe she escaped… maybe she's waiting at the cliff.
He climbed back to the cliff, shouting her name.
"Novamelle! Where are you?!"
Only silence answered.
On the long walk home, dread settled deep in his chest. How would he face his parents? She was gone—but something inside him refused to believe she was dead. And something else haunted him:
What was that power? Where did it come from?
When he arrived, his parents knew something was wrong. Only Moner had returned.
His mother's face turned pale.
"Moner… where's Novamelle?" she asked, voice trembling.
He said nothing. His father noticed the wound on his side and rushed forward.
"Take it easy," he said, bandaging him. "Didn't I warn you not to go there? Where is she?"
Moner finally spoke. He told them everything—how he heard her scream, how the bear attacked, how she vanished.
"So… where is she?" they asked again, panic rising.
"Maybe the bear ate her," his mother said, voice filled with dread.
"No," Moner said, his voice steady. "She escaped. I checked—the bear didn't eat her. She's alive. I can feel it."
His father stood.
"I'll go myself. You rest for today. Maybe I'll find her."
Moner nodded.
"But your wounds…" his mother said.
"I'm fine," he replied, though he wasn't.
They returned to the cliff together, searching the path, the cave, the lifeline's edge. Nightfall brought the howls of pink wolves. They moved quietly, unnoticed.
Inside the cave, they found the bear's body—charred, its stomach sliced open. But no sign of Novamelle.
Hours passed. They found nothing. Then Moner froze.
"Wait… where's her lantern? We had two. Hers is gone."
His father looked puzzled.
They returned home empty-handed. His mother, holding back tears, forced a smile.
"Don't worry. I know she's still alive."
That night, Moner tossed and turned. In his dreams, a voice whispered:
"This is all your fault. Didn't you promise to save us?"
He awoke, crying.
Days passed. No sign of her. At the central park, he met John and Sifor and told them everything.
"It's not your fault," John said softly.
"You might still find her."
"But it's been days…"
Then Moner pulled out the three shimmering gems.
"Do you think anyone would buy these?"
John's eyes widened.
"You actually found them? Celestial blue… Try Nero the merchant. He might know someone."
Sifor added, "I have a test near the palace in two weeks. Come with me?"
Moner agreed.
But as they neared the palace, something strange stirred within him.
Why does this place feel… familiar?
A tension settled over him.
He stopped.
"Sorry—I forgot something I promised my parents."
Sifor nodded, and Moner walked away, his thoughts in turmoil.
That night, he decided to sell the gems and use the money to renovate their home.
But sleep brought nightmares.
The next morning, he approached Nero's stall.
"Nero… can I sell these?"
"How much?" Nero asked.
"Fifty thousand silver pieces. Each."
Nero dropped his cup.
"Fifty thousand?! Are you selling a palace?! It's just a jewel!"
Confused, Moner went from merchant to merchant. All refused.
Until he met a man named Zack and his son Jack.
Zack was stout and serious, with a short gray beard and sharp, calculating eyes. Jack, his lean teenage son, had restless hands and curious eyes, clearly clever but impulsive.
Zack lowered his voice as he examined the gem, his tone cautious and secretive.
Moner, still uncertain, said,
"I'll sell two for one hundred thousand silver—or a hundred gold ingots."
He kept the third jewel.
On his way home, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, a figure appeared in his path.
A woman—dark-haired, weary, but commanding. Her presence was unsettling.
"I want to ask you something," she said softly, her voice deep and cold.
"I don't have any money," Moner replied quickly.
"But you want to save her, don't you?"
Her smile was calm… and cruel.
Moner stiffened, his whole body sweating. A heavy silence fell.