Almost evening, that golden gaze of the sun turned red and dark—like blood. The village beside the river, near the castle, stood empty now.
"Have you heard?"
"This place used to be the front line of the battlefield."
"Yes! Everyone knows this village is cursed because it's built over those brave warriors."
"Of course… I heard there was a wildlife attack just a day after a hound attack."
"SILENCE!! BOTH OF YOU!"
The senior guard barked at them. "Your job is to guard the village entrance, not to prove your stupidity."
Just at that moment, a man appeared at the village entrance—wearing a black fur coat and a big red hat. The dim torchlight at the gate barely revealed his appearance.
"Whoever you are, you must go back. This village is not a safe place anymore—it's filled with wild animals," the head guard said.
"Oh no, sir. I have no intention of staying here," the man replied. "I'm just an adventurer. Wandering from place to place is my job."
"Then why here??"
"News about this village has probably spread across all of Livronsky by now," one of the guards muttered.
Jhon never wanted to join the castle guard force. But family duty and lack of wealth could bend anyone's choice of action.Along with his twin brother, Marko, he had been a castle guard for nearly ten months. Under the orders of Lord Belford of Hangman Castle, they were assigned to guard the village under the guidance of Head Guard Rizen.
"I left some of my things here yesterday, but then I heard about the wildlife attack this morning…". "How unfortunate."
After a long sigh, he removed his hat.
His hair was crimson red, tied in a bun at the back of his head.
"Luckily, the villagers escaped in time. Just a few with minor injuries," someone commented.
Rizen didn't even finish his sentence when Marko suddenly shouted:
"Your hair! It's red—bright red! Are you the red-haired adventurer who killed that hound yesterday??"
"Apologies, sir, but I have my orders," Raizen said firmly, standing tall at the village gate. "No one is permitted to enter the village without authorization."
The wind stirred the edge of his cloak. Behind him, the rooftops of the village glowed faintly in the last light of dusk, as shadows stretched longer across the cobbled path. Crickets had begun their evening chorus, soft but steady.
"I understand," the stranger replied, voice calm and deliberate. "But I do have permission—from Lord Belford himself."
He reached into his coat and withdrew a tightly rolled parchment. The leather of his gloves creaked slightly as he unfurled it.
Raizen's brow furrowed, his posture stiff. He remained motionless, unconvinced, until his gaze settled on the wax seal—unmistakably that of Lord Belford. Authority. Authentic. Irrefutable.
"...Very well, then," Raizen muttered. "It appears there's no room for confusion."
His voice was reluctant, a step behind his duty. He moved aside, his boots crunching on the gravel as the amber light of the setting sun cast long, fractured shadows through the gate's iron bars.
Ignoring Marko's silent question—a glance that spoke volumes—Raizen cleared his throat and called after the man.
"Before you proceed, sir..." he began, slower now, with a sharp edge in his tone, "may I at least ask your name?"
The stranger paused. The wind brushed against the hem of his coat, sending it fluttering slightly. His silhouette was framed in the dimming gold of twilight.
Raizen's eyes narrowed. His voice said little, but his face betrayed him. Doubt. Unease. The kind that settled in the bones. Too many questions. Too few answers.
"Do you not trust me?" the stranger asked, turning just enough to glance back at him. His expression remained unreadable, carved from calm.
"I do, sir..." Raizen replied, voice lowering, more to himself than to anyone else. "...But I believe it's only proper to know the name of the man who saved my people."
For a moment, silence reigned. A raven croaked overhead and flapped away into the darkening sky.
Then, a faint smile curled at the corners of the stranger's lips.
"Kel," he said simply. "And helping those in need isn't some praiseworthy act. It's the bare minimum one should offer as a human being."
His words carried on the wind, almost vanishing with the dying light.
Raizen didn't respond. He only stood there, watching the man's back as he walked away, his expression like stone.
Behind him, night began to fall.
John and Marko stood still, watching as Kel disappeared beyond the gate. The twilight wind drifted over the village path, carrying a hush that felt heavier than silence.
Rizen's narrow eyes remained fixed for a moment longer, more thoughtful than usual. Forty-six years he had spent in service to Hungman Castle, yet never—not once—had he seen a regular traveler carry a document marked with the royal seal. Not unless it involved the Vengin contract, which had been forged seventeen years ago in guarded ceremony.
And that contract had nothing to do with strangers.
His instincts told him to stop the man.
But instinct wasn't permission.
"May I?" Kel had asked, polite, calm, almost amused.
"Of course, sir. Be safe," Rizen had replied, words steady, even if his grip on his spear had tightened just slightly.
The forest dimmed further.
It was late evening now—the kind of darkness that changed the shape of familiar things. Trees no longer looked like trees; they loomed instead, like silent watchers draped in shadow. The leaves whispered to each other, their voices stirred by the wind.
The air had grown colder too, the warmth of day a memory. Lanterns flared along the castle walls. Torchlight flickered across the training grounds, painting the stone and earth in moving gold.
In the center, Bruno's voice broke the stillness.
"Try to focus the flow… let it move beneath the skin, navigate through it. Flow throughout your whole body. Let your sword take it all to light. Then—release."
He stepped closer, his presence calm yet commanding. The firelight glinted across his coat.
"Can you feel it?" he asked.
Pluto stood motionless, jaw tight, eyes locked on the ground. He didn't answer right away.
Bruno waited. The torches cracked beside them, as if echoing the tension in the boy's shoulders.
"…No. I can't."
His voice wasn't loud. Just honest.
Bruno nodded once, subtle and unreadable. His expression showed no frustration, only patience. Like someone used to waiting for storms to pass on their own.
Pluto had been struggling with his sorcery since day one. The magical current within him felt faint—sometimes completely absent. Even though he trained harder than anyone, it simply wouldn't respond.
Lunet, despite being two months younger, had already begun to shape wind magic with natural instinct. Her spells were messy and fueled by emotion, but they worked. She hated the training—but the power obeyed her.
Pluto's sword trembled slightly in his hand. He looked ahead, past the torches, toward the far trees beyond the walls.
The darkness beyond was growing thicker.
And in that darkness, something felt like it was waiting.
Bruno didn't speak again.
He simply stood beside him, letting the silence settle. The way a mentor does when he knows the answers aren't ready to be spoken yet.
After a long, drawn-out sigh, Bruno gently placed his hand on Pluto's head. His palm was calloused, steady—like stone weathered by years of storms. He looked straight at the boy with a short but calming smile.
"It's okay," he said quietly. "There's no need to rush."
"Exactly!" another voice chimed in, lighthearted but commanding. "No need to sprint toward something you're not ready for."
The voice came from the gate of the training ground, warm and filled with a certain familiarity. "There are no rules saying you must be a sorcerer. With your sword skill, I'd argue you're already beyond what most sorcerers could hope for."
Pluto turned toward the voice. A tall, grown man stepped into view, his silhouette cutting through the misty torchlight. He wore a faded but noble cloak that moved with the breeze, the folds catching firelight in flickers of gold and shadow.
It was Senko.
The fire from the torches crackled gently, casting long, writhing shadows against the training grounds. In the deep blue of evening, just before night would consume the sky, his arrival felt almost surreal—like the return of something long-missing.
Lunet's breath caught the moment she recognized him. Her eyes widened, and whatever composure she had vanished in an instant.
"Senko!!"
She ran to him, arms outstretched, her footsteps fast and frantic. Her joy overpowered her discipline—this wasn't a soldier's reunion, it was something more tender. The moment she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly as though fearing he'd disappear again.
Pluto stood frozen, watching quietly from where he stood. There was something in the air—a faint tightening in the chest, a quiet pull of memories. Even after so much time, Senko's presence hadn't lost its gravity.
"…Brother! It's been a whole year."
Senko let out a soft laugh as he held Lunet, brushing his fingers gently through her hair. "Time flies, doesn't it?" he said, trying to sound cheerful.
But his voice cracked ever so slightly. Beneath the light tone was a weariness that no amount of smiling could hide. His eyes shimmered—not with tears, but with something more complicated: relief, guilt, longing.
Bruno stepped forward, his arms crossed, but the corner of his lips twitched with restrained amusement. "How was your journey, Lord?" he asked, adding a mock formality to his tone.
Senko raised an eyebrow. "Stop it, Uncle. I'm no lord."
The familiar teasing tone slipped from his lips, but his breath was still short—still recovering. The laughter that followed was soft, the kind that bubbles up but never quite escapes fully. Even so, it was enough to draw a smile from Bruno.
Their voices mingled with the crackling torches, the rustling forest, and the distant murmur of the village winding down for the night. Everything about the scene felt suspended—like time had decided to slow, just for a while.