The moment I blacked out, I snapped awake again. Chaos erupted around me—mercenaries clashing with enhanced prisoners, the facility tearing itself apart. Yells, gunfire, and raw power filled the air. My wrists strained against the chains—and to my shock, they shattered like brittle glass. I had never felt such strength before.
Heart pounding, I rushed to the infirmary. I searched desperately, room after room, until I found him. Amoi's body lay lifeless, empty of the spark that once made him my brother. The sight broke me. Guilt consumed me—I blamed myself, convinced I didn't deserve to be his brother if I couldn't save him.
Before the grief could swallow me whole, a mercenary stormed in and leveled his rifle at me. The shots rang out, but I didn't feel pain. Instead, a radiant shield of light flared around me, deflecting the bullets. My hand rose on its own, gripping invisible force, and the soldier was lifted screaming into the air and hurled backward. I didn't understand what was happening—only that something impossible had awakened inside me.
Then it came—a spiraling wall of energy, flat and luminous, opening like a door in midair. My body was pulled toward it before I could resist.
Suddenly, I was free-falling from the night sky above a vast lake. The plunge was brutal. The cold water engulfed me, and as I sank, a strange phenomenon overtook me: a voice in the depths, asking if I belonged here, testing me. A brilliant light consumed my vision—and then hands pulled me upward.
Breaking the surface, I gasped and met the one who had saved me: a girl. Without hesitation, she urged me to follow her into the Forest of Harmony. My mind reeled with questions, but I sensed I had no choice. Lost, foreign, and shaken, I trailed after her.
We traveled deep into the woods until she stopped, built a fire, and told me plainly:"Take your clothes off."
I froze, suspicious. She clarified, half-teasing, half-serious:"Just your shirt and pants. If you don't, you'll freeze before morning."
Reluctantly, I obeyed, uneasy at my own vulnerability before a stranger. She dried my clothes by the fire and handed me food. Despite my discomfort, I accepted. She seemed unaffected by the situation.
"What's your name?" she asked.
I hesitated, avoiding her gaze. She tried again: "Hungry? I've got more."
When I remained quiet, she explained softly, "It's not weird. I have brothers. I've seen them like this all my life."
Finally, I whispered, "Where am I?"
Her eyes gleamed with mystery. "You're in Pansen. The lost land of Pansen—what's left of it."
I stayed silent, processing. Then she said, "My name is Mai. And I think you absorbed something… something we call a Yang."
She gave me dry clothes: an old brown shirt, knee-high shorts, and shoes long past their prime. Uncomfortable, I put them on anyway. When I asked her what a Yang was, she looked shocked that I didn't know.
Sitting across the fire, she told me the story:
"Long ago, Pansen thrived in balance. We called it the land of Yin and Yang. For centuries, peace reigned. But then came the Quest Period—when people sought the source of balance itself. They hunted for the YinYang spirits. Only two in all history had ever wielded them. The promise of limitless power drove humanity mad, and war erupted. Battles raged for generations, yet no one found the spirits. Eventually, their hosts vanished. Without balance, Pansen rotted into a wasteland."
I sat cross-legged, skeptical. "So what makes you think I have Yang?"
She rose, steady and firm: "You fell through a white rift in the sky. Your eyes glowed with light. And when you undressed, I saw the Yang mark on your back."
I denied it—but she proved me wrong. She raised her palm, launching a spray of wooden shards. Instinctively, the white aura shield enveloped me again. My breath caught in disbelief.
She smirked knowingly. "Yeah… you've got Yang. Get some sleep—we have a long day ahead."
I lay down on the grass, still stunned. Sleep eventually took me.
Morning came. She woke me with food and urged me on. I still struggled with the ridiculous clothes, but she teased, "Get used to it. Men in my village dress lightly for movement. You'll be working soon enough."
We trekked through brutal terrain—rock, mud, tall grass, relentless rain, even swimming riverbanks. My body screamed with fatigue. By the time we reached open grasslands, I was drenched in sweat, bent over, gasping for breath.
Mai scolded, "Weak boy."I snapped back, "Don't call me a boy."
Finally, her home appeared: a large village in the meadow, alive with shouts of welcome as people recognized her. She ran into the arms of her kin. Others noticed me, whispering, "Who's the boy?"
Mai introduced me as best she could—without knowing my name. I finally told them, "I'm Goshi." She led me straight to her father, the village head.
Mai's father radiated dominance—stern, unflinching, the weight of authority in his eyes. When she announced me as the new Yang bearer, he demanded proof.
"You will fight me," he declared. There was no room for refusal.
In the village center, he summoned a spear from the air. My gold ring shone white. He charged, hurling the weapon—and it multiplied. Clones of him appeared, each catching a spear, attacking me in unison.
I stumbled, untrained, overwhelmed. His words cut deep:"Your fighting skills disgrace your family."
Family. The word burned. I thought of Amoi—my brother, my failure. Rage and sorrow ignited within me. Crossing my arms, I unleashed a surge of white energy. The clones disintegrated. The real man crashed to the ground.
The crowd gasped. Shock. Awe. Disbelief.
I collapsed, sitting breathless in the dirt, staring at Mai. She studied me silently, as though she had expected this. Her father stood, brushed himself off, and barked orders for everyone to clean up and prepare the evening meal.
As the group headed toward the streams, I followed reluctantly.
The meadow gave way to light forest—tall trees, scattered stones, grass brushing our legs. As we walked, I felt something strange: the woods themselves seemed alive, whispering, not in words but in sensation. A presence, ancient and knowing, seemed to recognize me.
When we reached the riverbank, the group split—girls upstream, boys downstream. Mai told me to follow her brothers, Hal, Maeun, and Poe. Awkward but resigned, I did as told.
The feeling lingered—that the forest was watching. That it knew what I carried.