The wind was sharp against Ain's face as he stepped beyond the last crooked fence of the village. Mud squelched under his worn sandals. Ahead, the ragged dirt path bled into the wild — the thick line of trees where the sun disappeared behind gnarled trunks and monstrous shadows lurked.
He'd promised himself: he would find a way to power his people — if not with "mana" in their blood, then with what he knew — real energy, real light. But the only place untouched by the kingdom's patrols, where he might find raw resources, lay within that cursed forest.
He tightened the frayed cloth around his shoulders and forced his feet forward. The closer he came, the colder it felt. Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the distant screech of unseen beasts. Then, suddenly — the ground vanished.
Ain skidded to a stop. Before him yawned the same ravine — the gaping wound in the earth where he'd first awoken as Ain. It stretched endlessly, flanked by brittle bushes and stones that tumbled if he dared step too close. The bottom was lost in mist and shadow.
He clenched his fists, memories flickering — the fear, the voices above, the rope that had dragged him back to life. Now it stood between him and the forest. He needed a bridge. He needed a plan.
But before he could take another breath, voices rose behind him.
***
"Hey! You there! Stop right there!"
Five men in white-and-steel armor emerged from the trees, boots crunching the underbrush. Each carried a long iron staff topped with crystal shards that pulsed faintly blue. Their cloaks marked them as royal knights — the border wardens who patrolled the wild rim.
Two broke off and circled behind Ain. Cold metal touched the back of his neck.
"What's your business near the breach, Null?" one of them barked, his voice heavy with disdain.
Ain forced himself to stand tall, though his knees trembled. "I… I'm just looking for—"
"For what? Food? Or are you trying to cross?" Another knight stepped forward, tapping the butt of his staff into the dirt. Sparks jumped from its tip.
Ain's mind raced. He could see, behind their glares, the genuine tension in their eyes. They weren't just guarding peasants — they were afraid.
"This ravine is our first wall," one of them said, spitting near Ain's feet. "It keeps the forest's filth back. Monsters, plague… things you can't even name. If you Null step one toe over, you'll bring it to our doorstep."
Ain opened his mouth — then shut it. He couldn't argue. Not now. Not when five staffs hummed with raw mana, ready to burn him alive for nothing.
The knight closest to him jabbed a finger at his chest. "You should know better. Null don't wander. Null don't cross. Back to your mud holes."
Rough hands grabbed his shoulders. Ain felt the cold bite of iron shackles snap around his wrists. No chance to run. They dragged him back through the muddy paths, toward the distant outline of his starving village.
***
Far away, behind towering marble walls, the royal city of Holly Stone burned bright under the glow of countless magic lamps. Tall towers pierced the gray sky like spears of polished stone. Inside the king's council hall, Zuko Hearthfilia — the seventh prince of the Hearthfilia line — slammed open a pair of gilded doors.
The council chamber, a crescent of velvet chairs and marble steps, fell silent at once. Old men in long ceremonial robes turned their beady eyes toward him. At the far end, his father — King Barnabas Hearthfilia — sat on a throne of black granite, ringed by loyal knights.
Zuko's boots echoed as he strode across the floor, his black cloak dragging behind him like a rebellious shadow.
"I have a matter to raise," Zuko said, voice sharp. He tossed a handful of scrolls onto the council's central table. "The Null settlements are dying. We have fields rotting outside our gates while children starve in the gutters. I propose we open the outer walls — let the Null work the land properly, build real homes—"
A snort cut him off. An old lord leaned back, fingers drumming on his jeweled cane. "Another dream, Your Highness? You think you can civilize rats?"
A ripple of cruel laughter rolled around the room. Even King Barnabas shifted uncomfortably on his throne, avoiding his son's eyes.
Zuko's jaw tightened. He slammed a fist on the table. "You fat worms. You preach grace, yet you dine on silver plates while babies scrape mold off bread! Do you think this kingdom stands forever on the broken backs of slaves?"
One by one, the council's polite smiles turned sour. King Barnabas rose, robes sweeping the floor. "Enough," he said, voice cold as iron. "You shame me, Zuko."
Zuko bared his teeth. "Good. Then hear this: if you want a puppet prince who bows to your filth, find another. I'd rather rot in the gutter than sit here licking boots—"
Guards moved in. Rough hands seized his arms. Before he could finish his tirade, they dragged him back through the hall, his insults echoing behind him like a cracked hymn.
Outside the palace gates, they hurled him into the dirt. The heavy iron doors slammed shut with finality.
***
The mud was cold where Zuko landed, cloak torn and boots scuffed. A few Null families lingering near the wall watched him with wide, cautious eyes — like stray dogs eyeing a wounded wolf.
Zuko pushed himself to his feet, wiped blood from his lip, then spread his arms wide as if addressing an invisible crowd.
"Citizens of the dirt!" he declared dramatically, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Behold your savior — cast out for daring to care about your wretched lives! Cheer, won't you?"
No one clapped. A mother pulled her child behind her legs. Some men muttered and turned away. For them, he was just another noble — a thing that hurt them.
Zuko's grin faltered. He dropped his arms, sighing through his teeth.
"Idiots. They don't know a revolution when they see it."
A single figure stepped forward. Ain. Thin, muddy, eyes sharp behind the hollow hunger.
"Prince Zuko, right?" Ain said, voice calm. "Why don't you come with me?"
Zuko raised an eyebrow. "You know who I am?"
Ain nodded. "I know you talk big. I want to know if you mean it."
Zuko's grin returned — smaller this time, almost genuine. "Lead the way, Null boy."
***
Ain's hut was no throne room. The roof leaked, the floor creaked under every step. Zuko sat cross-legged on a rough mat, knees brushing the low wooden table where Ain's mother placed a cracked plate — on it, a lump of stale bread, speckled with green mold.
Zuko looked at the offering, then at Ain. "This is… dinner?"
Ain met his gaze. "This is life, Prince. For us."
Zuko took the bread, turned it over, then bit down without flinching. Mold or not — hunger was hunger. He chewed, forced a grin. "Delightful."
Ain sat opposite him, eyes burning with quiet fury. "This is what we eat while you people live in marble palaces. This is the Null's world. You say you want to change it — so tell me how."
Their eyes locked — the exiled prince with no crown and the reborn scientist with a storm in his skull.
And in the flickering firelight of that broken hut, a fragile conspiracy began to breathe — one moldy crumb at a time.