Years ago...
Before the scars.
Before the darkness.
Before he became known as the Eyeless...
He was a warrior.
Not merely a skilled one.
He was one of the strongest warriors to ever walk the battlefield.
His name alone was enough to make soldiers hesitate.
Kings knew of him.
Generals respected him.
Enemies feared him.
And among the countless weapons he could wield...
There was one he favored above all else.
A great sword.
It was almost as tall as he was.
The blade was wide and heavy, forged from blackened steel with faint silver markings running along its length.
Most warriors could barely lift it.
He swung it with one hand.
The battlefield trembled with every strike.
"CHARGE!"
Thousands of soldiers surged forward.
The sound of steel clashing against steel filled the valley.
Arrows darkened the sky.
Magic erupted across the battlefield.
Fire.
Lightning.
Ice.
Yet through all of it...
One man continued walking forward.
White hair.
Emerald green tips.
A massive sword resting upon his shoulder.
Blood stained his armor.
Yet he showed no signs of exhaustion.
A soldier spotted him.
"It's him..."
Another turned.
"The White Wolf?"
The soldier beside him swallowed.
The answer came from the man himself.
He raised his great sword.
"My name nor title..."
He swung.
The earth cracked beneath the force of the blow.
"...Is not important."
A wave of pressure exploded outward.
Several enemy soldiers were thrown backward.
He stepped forward.
"Remember the sword instead."
The enemy formation broke.
He charged.
One swing.
Two.
Three.
Each strike sent another group of soldiers flying.
A mage raised his staff.
"STOP HIM!"
Several spells were fired at once.
The warrior didn't stop.
He raised his great sword.
The blade became surrounded by Mana.
A deep dark aura engulfed the weapon.
He swung.
The spells were torn apart.
The shockwave continued forward.
The enemy mage barely had time to react.
"Impossible..."
The warrior stood before him.
His sword rested against the ground.
"You're standing in my way."
The mage trembled.
"...Who are you?"
The warrior smiled.
"A soldier."
He raised his sword.
"And you're already dead."
The battlefield fell silent for a moment.
Then...
The great sword descended.
...
He was undefeated.
For years...
No warrior had managed to defeat him.
No knight.
No mercenary.
No mage.
No monster.
His strength continued to grow with every battle.
Some called him a monster.
Others called him a hero.
He never cared for either title.
He simply fought.
Because fighting was all he knew.
Until one day...
He met someone who would change everything.
But before that day...
He still had eyes.
A heart.
He could still see the battlefield.
He could still see the faces of his enemies.
He could still see the sky.
He could still see the people he loved.
He had everything.
And he had no idea...
---
How quickly it could all be taken away.
The battlefield was silent.
Not peaceful.
Silent.
Bodies lay scattered across the ruined ground.
Broken weapons.
Shattered shields.
Blood soaked into the earth.
The warrior was on his knees.
His great sword lay several feet away.
Its once pristine blade was stained crimson.
Blood dripped from his armor.
His breathing was ragged.
Every breath felt heavier than the last.
He could barely keep himself upright.
His hands trembled.
His vision blurry.
For the first time in years...
He had been pushed to his limit.
A shadow stood before him.
Tall.
Motionless.
Completely untouched by the chaos surrounding them.
Dark clothing covered his body.
A hood concealed most of his face.
Only two cold eyes could be seen beneath it.
Kael.
The King's Shadow.
The man trusted with the tasks no knight could be allowed to know about.
He slowly stepped forward.
His footsteps echoed across the ruined battlefield.
The warrior tried to stand.
His legs refused.
He fell back onto one knee.
"...Damn."
Kael stopped several steps away.
"You've fought well."
The warrior spat blood onto the ground.
"Don't..."
"Patronize me."
Kael said nothing.
His gaze drifted toward the great sword lying nearby.
"That sword..."
"interesting weapon choice."
The warrior's fingers curled into the dirt.
"Don't touch it."
Kael looked back at him.
"You still have the strength to threaten me."
A faint smile appeared beneath his hood.
"Impressive."
The warrior forced himself upright.
His knees shook.
Yet he remained standing.
"Who..."
"...Are you?"
Kael's expression remained unreadable.
"You've heard my name."
The warrior stared at him.
"...Kael."
"The King's Shadow."
Kael nodded.
"Correct."
The warrior tightened his grip around his weapon.
"You..."
"You're the one who slaughtered the others."
"I did."
"Why?"
Kael's gaze remained fixed upon him.
"Because the King ordered it."
The warrior's expression hardened.
"Then come."
"Finish it."
Kael remained still.
"I wasn't ordered to kill you."
The warrior froze.
"...What?"
Kael slowly reached toward the blade at his side.
"I was ordered to bring you back."
A cold silence settled between them.
The warrior laughed weakly.
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Then..."
The warrior raised his great sword.
"Then..."
His grip tightened around the handle.
"...You're going to have a difficult time."
Kael's expression remained unchanged.
For a moment...
Nothing happened.
Then...
He disappeared.
The warrior's eyes widened.
"...What?"
A flash of steel
Kael was suddenly in front of him.
Too fast.
The warrior barely had time to react.
He raised his sword.
CLANG!
The impact forced him backward.
"Fast..."
He steadied himself.
His eyes searched the battlefield.
Where did he go?
Then...
A faint movement.
Behind him.
The warrior spun around.
Kael's dagger was already swinging.
"!"
He tried to move.
Too late.
The blade passed across his face.
A sharp pain followed.
His vision vanished.
Everything became dark.
His great sword slipped slightly from his grip.
"..."
For the first time in his life...
He couldn't see.
He stumbled backward.
His hand immediately went to his face.
"What..."
His breathing became frantic.
"I can't..."
"I can't see."
Kael stood several meters away.
His dagger was stained with blood.
He looked at the warrior without emotion.
"...It's over."
The warrior clenched his teeth.
"No."
He forced himself upright.
"I can still fight."
He couldn't see Kael.
He couldn't see the battlefield.
He couldn't see his own sword.
But...
He could still hear.
The wind.
The footsteps.
His own breathing.
And somewhere ahead...
Kael.
The warrior reached for his great sword.
His hand found the handle.
He pulled it upward.
"...I don't need my eyes."
Kael's expression remained unreadable.
"Then prove it."
The warrior swung.
The blade tore through the air.
Kael stepped aside.
The warrior swung again.
And again.
But every strike missed.
He was fighting an enemy he could no longer see.
His breathing grew heavier.
His movements became slower.
Kael approached.
The warrior sensed him.
He swung.
Kael ducked.
A strike to his side.
The warrior staggered.
Another.
He fell to one knee.
His great sword remained in his hand.
He refused to let go.
"...Damn."
Kael stood before him.
"You've lost."
The warrior slowly raised his head.
Even without sight...
He could feel Kael standing there.
"...Then kill me."
Kael lowered his dagger.
"No."
"As I said the King wants you alive."
The warrior laughed bitterly.
"Of course he does."
Kael turned away.
"Take him."
Several soldiers approached.
The warrior tried to stand.
His legs gave out.
He fell forward.
His great sword struck the ground beside him.
For the first time...
The strongest warrior on the battlefield...
Had been defeated.
And he couldn't even see the man who had done it.
...
Darkness.
That was all he knew.
He couldn't see anything.
He couldn't even tell if his eyes were open.
For a while...
He simply lay there.
Listening.
Nothing.
Then...
A sound.
Drip.
...
Drip.
...
Drip.
His breathing was the only other thing he could hear.
Slowly...
He moved his hand.
Cold stone.
His fingers brushed against the ground beneath him.
"..."
He froze.
This wasn't the battlefield.
The ground was different.
Colder.
Harder.
And the air...
It smelled of damp stone.
Iron.
And something faintly rotten.
He slowly pushed himself upright.
His body immediately protested.
"...Ugh."
His hand went toward his face.
The wounds had been wrapped.
Poorly.
He could feel dried blood beneath the cloth.
He clenched his jaw.
"...Where am I?"
His voice echoed.
The sound traveled through the darkness.
Then returned to him.
He listened carefully.
The echo was strange.
There was barely any wind.
No trees.
No distant soldiers.
No horses.
Nothing.
Just stone.
He reached forward.
His fingers touched something cold.
Bars.
He ran his hand along them.
"...A cell."
He slowly sat back against the wall.
So...
The King had taken him.
His breathing remained steady.
Despite everything...
He refused to panic.
He closed his eyes.
Then remembered.
He couldn't see anyway.
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"...Figures."
Another drip echoed somewhere in the distance.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Then...
Footsteps.
His entire body tensed.
Someone was approaching.
Slowly.
Calmly.
The footsteps echoed through the dungeon.
One step.
Then another.
Closer.
Closer.
Until they stopped directly outside his cell.
A voice finally spoke.
"You're awake."
The warrior remained silent.
He could hear the faint sound of metal moving.
Keys.
The cell door opened.
He immediately reached for where his great sword should have been.
Nothing.
His hand grasped empty air.
"...Where is my sword?"
The stranger didn't answer.
Instead...
A pair of footsteps entered the cell.
The warrior listened carefully.
Two people.
No...
Three.
He could hear their breathing.
His other senses were beginning to adapt to the darkness.
He could no longer rely on his eyes.
So...
He would have to rely on everything else.
The footsteps stopped.
A familiar voice spoke.
"You've been unconscious for three days."
The warrior's expression hardened.
"...Kael."
"Yes."
"Where is my sword?"
A brief silence.
"Taken."
The warrior clenched his fist.
"...Give it back."
"You won't be needing it."
He slowly stood.
His body still ached.
But he remained upright.
"Then what exactly do you need me for?"
Kael didn't answer.
Another voice came from behind him.
Cold.
Calm.
Authoritative.
"You'll find out soon enough."
The warrior's head turned toward the voice.
The King.
He could not see him.
But somehow...
He could feel the presence of someone far more powerful than the guards surrounding him.
The dungeon suddenly felt smaller.
The warrior smiled faintly.
"...So."
"The 'investigation' begins."
30 days and 30 nights.
The guard hated walking through the lower dungeon.
It was always colder down here.
The torches barely reached the corners of the corridor.
And the deeper he went...
The quieter everything became.
He carried a tray of tools toward the interrogation chamber.
He didn't ask what they were for.
He already knew.
As he approached the room...
He heard a voice.
"Again."
The guard stopped.
His grip tightened around the tray.
He looked toward the door.
It was slightly open.
Light spilled through the gap.
He could hear the clinking of metal.
Then...
A hiss.
The guard swallowed.
He shouldn't look.
But he did.
Through the opening...
He saw the warrior sitting in a heavy chair.
His wrists were bound.
His white hair was disheveled.
The cloth covering his eyes was stained from the wounds he had received during the battle.
Several tools had been laid out on a table beside him.
Metal instruments.
Clamps.
Chains.
And a long iron rod resting over a small brazier.
The end of it glowed faintly from the heat.
The guard's stomach tightened.
One of the interrogators picked it up.
The warrior immediately spoke.
"...You really think that's going to make me talk?"
The interrogator remained silent.
The heated metal was brought close.
The warrior's jaw tightened.
He refused to move.
The guard looked away.
A moment later...
He heard the warrior grit his teeth.
Then silence.
The interrogator placed the tool back onto the table.
"Where did you learn to wield Mana?"
The warrior laughed quietly.
"I told you."
"I don't know."
The interrogator picked up another instrument.
"You expect us to believe that?"
"I don't particularly care what you believe."
The guard stared through the doorway.
The warrior was exhausted.
Yet...
He still sounded defiant.
Still arrogant.
Still himself.
The interrogator stepped closer.
"You defeated an entire battalion."
"You survived wounds that should have killed you."
"You wield a sword that most men cannot even lift."
"So tell us..."
"Who gave you this power?"
The warrior tilted his head.
"...No one."
The interrogator frowned.
The guard slowly lowered his gaze.
He had heard stories about this man.
The strongest warrior on the battlefield.
A man who could supposedly cut through armored soldiers with a single swing.
But sitting there...
Bound and blinded...
He looked almost ordinary.
Almost.
Then the warrior smiled.
"I've already told you the truth."
The interrogator stared at him.
"And if you refuse to cooperate..."
The warrior interrupted.
"Then you'll keep doing this."
A pause.
"...And I'll keep refusing."
The guard's eyes widened slightly.
The warrior chuckled.
"You people really aren't very creative."
The interrogator's expression darkened.
The guard immediately stepped away from the door.
He didn't want to see what happened next.
He continued down the corridor.
But even after he had left...
He could still hear the faint clinking of metal behind him.
And the warrior's voice.
Calm.
Defiant.
Unbroken.
For some reason...
That frightened the guard more than any scream ever could.
The interrogation chamber had finally gone quiet.
The tools had been placed back onto the table.
The interrogator stood beside them, staring down at the warrior.
Nothing.
After days of questioning...
They had found nothing.
The door opened.
Kael stepped inside.
The interrogator glanced toward him.
"Well?"
Kael walked toward the table and placed a folder down.
"We've finished investigating him."
The interrogator raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
Kael's expression remained indifferent.
"He's not involved."
The interrogator stared at him.
"...Not involved?"
"He's not connected to the Black Church."
"He's not a member."
"He has no knowledge of their activities."
"And there is no evidence of him working with them."
The interrogator slowly leaned against the table.
"So all of this..."
He glanced toward the restrained warrior.
"...was for nothing?"
Kael shook his head.
"Not entirely."
The interrogator sighed.
"Then what is he?"
Kael looked at the warrior.
"A war freak."
The interrogator blinked.
"...A what?"
"He simply enjoys fighting."
Kael's tone remained completely serious.
"His strength comes from years of combat."
"His swordsmanship is exceptional."
"And apparently..."
He glanced at the ruined equipment around the room.
"...he has an unhealthy enthusiasm for violence."
The interrogator rubbed his forehead.
"Fantastic."
He looked toward the warrior again.
"We've spent hours trying to connect him to the Black Church..."
"...And he's just a lunatic who likes fighting."
Kael gave a small nod.
"Essentially."
The interrogator let out a long sigh.
"We're getting nowhere near that Black Church somehow."
He looked at the warrior.
"Nothing."
"Not even a single useful lead."
Kael remained silent.
The interrogator finally turned toward the warrior.
"Get rid of him."
Kael looked at him.
"I'll handle it."
The interrogator nodded.
"Take him far enough that he won't find his way back."
Kael approached the warrior.
The warrior remained silent.
His body was exhausted.
His eyes were gone.
His strength had been pushed beyond its limits.
Yet somehow...
He was still conscious.
Kael grabbed him by the arm and pulled him from the chair.
The warrior stumbled.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Outside."
"To where?"
"The forest."
The warrior let out a quiet laugh.
"You're throwing me into the woods?"
Kael didn't answer.
They continued through the dungeon.
Past the guards.
Past the stone corridors.
Until eventually...
The cold night air touched the warrior's face.
He stopped.
He could smell the trees.
Hear the wind moving through the leaves.
Kael led him farther into the forest.
Deeper.
And deeper.
Until the palace was completely out of earshot.
The warrior listened carefully.
"...We're far enough."
Kael released him.
The warrior stumbled forward.
He caught himself against a tree.
"...So that's it?"
Kael stood behind him.
"Yes."
The warrior smiled bitterly.
"You really think I'll die out here?"
Kael reached for his dagger.
"Probably."
The warrior turned his head slightly.
A sudden movement.
The dagger struck his left leg.
The warrior's breath caught.
He fell against the tree.
"You've lost too much blood."
"You cannot see."
"You can barely walk."
"Survival is unlikely."
The warrior clenched his teeth.
"...You're a bastard."
Kael simply looked at him.
"Perhaps."
He turned away.
The warrior heard his footsteps slowly disappear.
One step.
Then another.
Until there was nothing.
Just the forest.
The warrior remained against the tree.
His breathing was heavy.
His body screamed at him to stop.
But he refused.
"...Not yet."
He reached toward the wound.
Then toward the dagger Kael had left behind.
His fingers wrapped around its handle.
He slowly pulled himself upright.
Every movement was difficult.
But he moved.
One step.
Then another.
He had no idea where he was.
He couldn't see the path.
He couldn't see the trees.
He couldn't see the sky.
So he listened.
The wind.
The insects.
The movement of animals somewhere nearby.
He followed the sounds.
Eventually...
He found something.
Water.
A small stream.
He knelt beside it and drank.
For a moment...
He simply stayed there.
Exhausted.
Then he heard something moving nearby.
His hand tightened around the dagger.
A small animal.
He couldn't see it.
But he could hear it.
He waited.
Listened.
Then struck.
The animal fell silent.
The warrior breathed heavily.
"...Sorry."
He had no choice.
He needed food.
He needed strength.
He gathered dry branches with his free hand.
Then used the dagger against a piece of stone.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Sparks finally appeared.
A small flame caught.
The warrior sat beside it.
He held his hands toward the warmth.
For the first time since being thrown into the forest...
He allowed himself to breathe.
The dagger rested beside him.
The same dagger Kael had used against him.
The same dagger Kael had left behind because he thought it would make no difference.
The warrior stared into the fire.
Or rather...
He imagined he was staring into it.
He couldn't see the flames anymore.
That realization angered him.
His fist tightened.
"...Damn it."
He slammed his hand against the ground.
"I hate this."
He hated the darkness.
He hated his weakness.
He hated Kael.
He hated the King.
Most of all...
He hated that he was still alive.
But despite all of it...
He remained beside the fire.
He ate.
He rested.
He healed.
And the next morning...
He stood again.
The warrior picked up Kael's dagger.
He had survived one night.
Then another.
Then another.
He used that same dagger to hunt.
To gather.
To cut branches.
To make fire.
Every time his hand touched its handle...
He remembered Kael.
And every time he remembered Kael...
He became more determined to survive.
The man who had once been one of the strongest warriors in the world...
Had lost everything.
His army.
His sword.
His home.
His sight.
Yet one thing remained.
His will.
And that...
Was something even the darkness could not take from him.
The memories of the forest faded.
The fire.
The cold nights.
The dagger.
The endless darkness.
All of it slowly disappeared.
Until...
Nothing remained.
...
The Eyeless suddenly jolted awake.
His breathing was frantic.
His hands immediately reached for his face.
Nothing.
Just the familiar cloth.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
He couldn't breathe properly.
The forest around him suddenly felt like the dungeon again.
The cold stone.
The chains.
The interrogator.
Kael.
The dagger.
His mind knew he was somewhere else.
His body didn't.
"Kael..."
His fingers dug into the earth.
"No..."
"No, no..."
He tried to stand.
His legs trembled beneath him.
The sounds of the forest became overwhelming.
Leaves.
Branches.
Insects.
Every noise seemed to come from everywhere at once.
His breathing became faster.
Then...
Two arms wrapped around him.
The Eyeless froze.
A familiar presence pressed against his back.
Long black hair brushed against his shoulders.
The violet spirit held him tightly.
"You're here."
Her voice was soft.
"You're safe."
The Eyeless said nothing.
His hands continued trembling.
She tightened her embrace.
"You're not there anymore."
"..."
"Listen to me."
He slowly lowered his head.
"The forest."
"The wind."
"Your breathing."
"My voice."
Her words were quiet.
Steady.
"You're here."
The Eyeless took a shaky breath.
Then another.
Slowly...
His breathing began to settle.
The spirit remained wrapped around him.
She didn't let go.
After a while...
The Eyeless finally spoke.
"...I hate remembering that place."
"I know."
"I thought I was back there."
"I know."
A long silence followed.
Then the spirit gently rested her head against his shoulder.
"But you aren't."
The Eyeless clenched his fist.
"...I'm still alive."
She smiled faintly.
"Yes."
"You are."
He remained silent for a moment.
Then...
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"After all these years..."
"...I still can't escape it."
The spirit shook her head.
"You don't have to escape your past."
"You only have to remember that it is your past."
The Eyeless slowly relaxed.
His hand reached toward hers.
He gently held it.
"...Thank you."
She smiled.
"Anytime."
For a while...
The two simply remained there beneath the trees.
The Eyeless listened to the forest.
And for the first time since waking...
The darkness didn't feel quite so suffocating.