Chapter 1 – Responsibility
Rain fell heavily over Fountain Hilltown, turning the streets into dark, reflective rivers. The night air was thick with the metallic scent of blood mixed with wet earth and smoke. Screams, the clash of weapons, and the low rumble of collapsing walls echoed from the town gates.
A sudden and brutal attack had struck the town — one that no one in charge had anticipated.
Inside the command hall, the Town Chief's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
"We will not sit here and accept defeat!" he declared, his tone firm and unyielding.
"Every cultivator under my command will fight. Protect as many of our people as you can. Their hopes rest on our shoulders. Move out!"
The order was given without hesitation. Within moments, the capable fighters of Fountain Hilltown rushed toward the gates, determined to stop the enemy before they could flood into the streets and turn the town into a slaughterhouse.
Twenty minutes later, in the heart of the town, a sturdy two-story building made of reinforced titanium stood firm against the storm.
Unlike the older wooden houses around it, this structure was modern and solid — a quiet symbol of the Chief's preparation for troubled times.
On the second floor, a well-built man in his early forties leaned against the railing. He wore a black sleeveless shirt that revealed the solid muscles of his arms and black trousers that were still clean despite the chaos outside.
His hair was cut in a neat fade, and his fair skin stood out under the dim emergency lights. Even while watching the distant flashes of battle, he carried an unmistakable air of authority.
His sharp eyes scanned the gates, reading the situation with the calm of a man who had seen many battles.
Footsteps approached from behind.
A young man named Alex walked up the stairs, a heavy battle axe gripped in one hand and another strapped across his back. His expression was serious. Behind him, a seventeen-year-old youth remained in the walkway, standing stiffly as if waiting for permission to step forward.
"Alex," the Town Chief said without turning around, his voice calm despite the war raging outside.
"How are the preparations for the nine rooms? Have the selected protectors already taken their positions?"
Alex stopped a few steps away and answered respectfully,
"Town Chief, everything has been arranged. All the protectors are already inside their assigned rooms… except for Room B-10."
The Chief's gaze slowly shifted toward the young man still waiting in the walkway.
Alex noticed the look and frowned. A hint of displeasure appeared on his face.
"Sir, why are you doing this?" he asked in a lower voice. "We all know he lacks potential. He can barely protect himself, let alone others. If you truly want to keep him safe, just place him inside one of the rooms and assign a proper guard. There is no need to force this."
The Chief finally turned fully toward Alex. His expression remained steady.
"I'm not trying to protect him," he said quietly. "You of all people should understand me by now. I believe in every one of my men. That includes him."
Without waiting for another argument, the Chief walked toward the young man.
"Dean, my boy!" he called out, a rare smile appearing on his face, the kind of smile that seemed to see a younger version of himself in the youth standing before him.
Dean straightened his back the moment he heard the call, though his hands still trembled slightly at his sides.
The Chief stopped in front of him and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Don't let this old man down," he said, his voice carrying both warmth and weight.
"Prove to everyone that my belief in you was not wasted."
With that, he tossed a metallic token toward Dean.
Dean hurriedly raised both hands to catch it, but his fingers were stiff with nervousness. The token slipped through his grasp and clattered onto the floor with a sharp sound.
"Clumsy me…" Dean muttered under his breath, his face flushing with embarrassment as he quickly bent down to pick it up.
The token was clearly marked B-10.
"Protect Room B-10," the Chief ordered. "All the other protectors are already in position. Do not fail."
He turned around without another word and began walking down the stairs. Alex followed close behind, his expression dark with concern.
As they descended, Alex could not hold back his thoughts.
"You saw that, didn't you?" he muttered.
"He couldn't even catch a simple token. Serves you right for insisting on this."
Dean remained standing in the same spot, staring at the token in his hand. His fingers tightened around it until his knuckles turned white.
"Dad… why?" he whispered, his voice filled with confusion and emotion.
The Chief did not look back. He only shook his head once, as if the decision had already been made long ago.
Alex quickened his pace to walk beside him.
"Elder Brother," he said seriously, "are you really this heartless? That is your own son.
Why throw him into such a dangerous position when we both know he isn't ready?"
The Chief's expression softened for a brief moment. A faint smile touched his lips.
"Don't worry too much about him," he replied. "Once this war is over, let's share a bottle of wine like we used to in the old days, younger brother."
Then his tone grew heavier, more serious.
"A person who carries no real responsibility will never grow. But the moment true responsibility is placed on their shoulders… they will do everything in their power not to fail."
Alex glanced at him sideways, still unconvinced.
"Elder Brother… the smile on your face doesn't match the weight of your words. Or am I seeing things wrong?"
The Chief's expression hardened again. Authority returned to his voice.
"Shut up. This is not the time for family talk. It is time to protect my town and my people. Let's go to war."
With that final statement, the two of them walked toward the town gates, their figures disappearing into the rain and the distant sounds of battle.
Alone now, Dean stood in front of the heavy door marked B-10. The corridor was quiet compared to the chaos outside, yet the pressure on his shoulders felt heavier than the entire building.
Sweat covered his face and soaked the collar of his shirt. His hand holding the token had become slippery. The small piece of metal felt as if it weighed as much as a mountain.
"I can't fail… I can't fail…"
The words repeated endlessly inside his mind, each repetition making his heart pound harder.
He stood frozen in front of the door for several long minutes, trying to force his breathing to steady. His legs felt weak. His mind raced with every insult and look of disappointment he had received over the years.
"Why am I still acting like a complete loser?" he muttered under his breath, his voice low and bitter. "I've trained in secret for years… pushed my body until it broke… all so that one day I could prove I am not useless."
He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath.
"The first step is simple. Protect the people inside this room. No matter what happens… I will do everything in my power to keep them safe until the end."
When he opened his eyes again, a faint spark of determination had appeared in them.
Dean raised the token and pressed it firmly against the locking mechanism of the door.
The moment he fully accepted the responsibility, something inside him shifted.
His blood began to boil. Heat surged through every vessel in his body, tensing his muscles and sharpening his senses.
The fear that had been crushing him did not disappear completely — but it was no longer the only thing he felt.
For the first time, resolve rose to meet it.