I decided to follow her into the vast forest. I'd grown up in deep woods where only wild animals dared to roam. After my father fulfilled his dream, he had nothing left to do, so he chose to live here.
This wasn't just any forest—it was the largest in all of Solar Prima, stretching over 8.6 million miles, with a river so deep it was said to be around 300 meters. We lived in the heart of it.
notes:(Solar Prima name of the World.)
People called it the Forest of Death. Every ten years, S-rank monsters spawned there, and countless other deadly creatures lived in strange harmony. The middle of the forest was nearly impossible to reach, and the far back—where some small villages barely clung to life—was even more dangerous. That's where most crime happened. The royal authority couldn't touch it, and no sane person would dare stay there.
"Hey, kid, have you ever seen a proper town?" she asked, tilting her head. "You grew up in such a dangerous place. Don't you want to live somewhere normal? Why did your father even decide to settle in such a boring, remote forest?"
I blinked. I didn't get her. First, she drags me along, and now she's actually curious about my life.
"Well," I started, hesitating, "I heard my father found a group of people while traveling through the forest. He saved them, and they seemed to know him somehow. So they decided to follow him on his journey. After about six months, they became close. Eventually, they all agreed to settle in the deepest part of the forest, where there's no connection to the outside world. They didn't care what happened beyond the trees."
I shrugged, feeling a little bitter. "As long as I can remember, our village had only fourteen people. Originally, there were thirty-eight, but I guess everyone else left or disappeared. We don't know what really happened. Maybe they couldn't handle living in the forest—the idea itself is insane to most people."
She stood there for a long moment, arms crossed, her expression serious. Finally, she spoke. "That's strange. We only killed six people. Not counting your father. So where did the rest go? We burned the whole village to the ground after your father died, and no one survived. The forest was deathly silent."
I stopped walking, my voice shaking with rage. "Don't lie! You had no right to say that!"
Anger, disbelief, and fear tangled up inside me, making it hard to think straight.
She suddenly pointed right at me. At first, I was confused, but then this cold, prickly feeling shot down my spine—like every part of me knew something was seriously off.
She tilted her head, calm as anything, and said just one word.
"Shoot."
The air split open.
This massive arrow came screaming at me. Or at least it felt massive. The way the Re Ho twisted around it made it seem bigger than it was.
It barely missed. Well, mostly missed. One edge of that warped energy clipped my left arm, slicing it open like it was nothing. Like cutting paper with a hot knife.
Then the explosion hit.
I went flying thirty meters sideways with no choice in the matter. Trees snapped like matchsticks, the ground ripped apart, and everything nearby just blew up. Dirt, roots, whole trunks—gone.
I barely managed to roll when I landed, saving my right hand from getting crushed. My arm was on fire, blood dripping everywhere, but at least I could still move.
And her? She just stood there. Cool. Quiet. Like she'd just tossed a pebble, not nearly blown me to bits.
Then she started walking toward me. Slow. Deliberate.
All the fear I thought I'd buried came rushing back—thick, heavy, like a weight on my lungs. I couldn't even look her in the eye.
She stepped closer, crouched down to meet my eyes. I was terrified—couldn't even blink. Her stare was ice.
"You thought I was some pushover, didn't you?" she said, voice low and sharp. "Big mistake. The second I told you to follow me? That wasn't a request. It was an order. And you will obey it."
She leaned in close enough that I could feel her breath.
"Next time you stop walking? You're dead. I'll carry your corpse with me if I have to. Understand? Nod."
I didn't have a choice. Not really. Follow her, or die right here—simple as that.
I nodded.
Even then, I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eye.
I'm sorry, Dad, I thought. Your son's stuck between life and death now. But I swear—I'll avenge you. No matter what it takes.
But for now, I walk.
Her hand ruffled my hair like I was some obedient puppy. "Good boy," she said, smirking. "You're smarter than you look. I have to admit, that arrow had more kick than I expected. You'd be dead, kid, if it had hit you square. Lucky for you, it was just a warning shot." She laughed.
I froze. My heart was pounding. I was scared—no, terrified of this woman. What was she? Some kind of psycho who laughs after nearly killing someone? Is she messed up in the head, or is this just how people like her play games? Either way, she's dangerous. Cold. Unpredictable.
Then—"Hold it."
The voice cut through the forest like a blade. Sharp. Commanding. I knew it instantly.
It was him—my father's closest friend. The ruler of Solar Prima. The man Dad trusted more than anyone. They weren't just allies—they were partners, legends who traveled across worlds, rewriting fate wherever they went. A force no empire could withstand.
The one and only man whose name made empires tremble.
King Helusion Sidious of the Sidious bloodline.
I'd heard so many stories about the King when I was a kid. My old man never bragged about much, but whenever he mentioned Helusion Sidious, his voice dropped like he was talking about a storm that could erase mountains. Said they traveled worlds together, rewrote fate, broke chains no one else could even see.
So when I finally saw him step out of the trees, damn.
He was older now—looked about sixty-five—but still carried himself like the world bent to him. Tall. Imposing. Not a single stoop in his spine. And that hair? Long, tied back in a tight braid, but pure steel gray, like moonlight on a blade. It didn't make him look weak—it made him look earned. Like every strand was a year of power, war, and silence.
Pale face. Sharp. Cold gold eyes that didn't blink much. Dressed in a long black robe with red runes that pulsed faintly, like they were breathing. No crown. No fanfare. But you felt him. The air got still. Birds shut up. Even the wind seemed to step aside.
And beside him?
Axebnil Steelheart.
Uncle Axebnil.
Just as tall, just as terrifying. Built like a fortress in scarred armor, face half-hidden under a dark steel mask, tattered cloak flapping behind him like a war banner. And the Re Ho around him? Not just dark—it was alive. Thick, oily mist, black with purple veins, hissing as it crawled off his body. Trees cracked where he stepped. Grass turned to ash. The air tasted like burnt iron.
His sword? Still at his side. When he drew it slow, the blade came out mostly blackened by the Re Ho, but deep inside, a blue light still burned. Faint, but fighting. Like the steel refused to give in.
The King didn't raise his voice. Just turned slightly, calm as stone.
"Sir Axebnil, can you attack the intruder?"
Axebnil didn't even look at her. Just gripped the hilt tighter.
"Your will is my sword," he said, voice like gravel under thunder. "I'll cut her down and send her to hell."
Then—movement.
One second he was there. Next? Gone.
A blur. Faster than sight. He came down like a falling star wrapped in storm, sword screaming with dark energy.
But her? She blocked it.
No panic. No strain. Just raised her arm—maybe a weapon, maybe pure power—and the strike stopped cold.
But then—BOOM.
It wasn't the impact. It was the Re Ho.
Axebnil's dark energy erupted—unstable, wild, like it couldn't handle being denied. It exploded outward in a shockwave, tearing through the air, ripping up trees, cracking the earth like glass. She didn't get pushed back by the sword—she got launched by the sheer corruption bursting off him.
And me? I didn't feel a thing.
No wind. No heat. No crushing pressure.
I looked up. The King hadn't moved. Not even a twitch.
But I felt it—a thin, calm bubble around me. His Re Ho. Holding the storm back. Protecting me without even looking.
And that's when it hit me. These weren't just legends. They were old gods walking.
She didn't flinch for long. One second she was skidding back from the Re Ho blast, the next—she drew her sword.
And man, that blade.
It was white. Not silver. Not gray. Pure white, like moonlight forged into steel. No glow, no flash—just this wrongness in the air when it came out. Like light shouldn't be that clean. That untouched. And when it clashed with Axebnil's dark-blue blade—blackened by Re Ho, screaming with corruption—it didn't just spark.
It hissed. Like oil hitting holy water.