The sun stood high above the endless expanse of the forest, its golden light spilling down like molten fire. The canopy swayed lazily with the breeze, yet in one small clearing, silence reigned—an odd silence, for even the chirp of insects seemed to avoid this place.
There, in the middle of broken grass and roots, lay a figure. His hair had grown messy, tangled with leaves and dirt. His once-proud body had shrunk, the muscle gone, leaving only the sharp angles of ribs and bones. His clothes were tattered like beggar's rags, torn and dust-stained, hanging loosely around his frame. A massive claymore lay beside him, its edge dulled, notched with countless cracks, as if it had been bashed against stone rather than steel.
It was Dev.
The warrior who once radiated unshakable confidence, the boy who had strutted with pride during the spar with Om, the fighter who had been admired for his raw power—now lay unconscious, frail, and almost pitiful.
Om stood a few feet away, his sharp eyes observing quietly. Dawon, at his side, lowered his massive body, his golden claws carving faint lines in the earth as his heavy breaths rumbled through the clearing.
Om crouched, frowning. "Dev…" he muttered, touching the boy's shoulder lightly. But the other didn't stir. His body remained limp, chest rising and falling shallowly, as though he had been asleep for days.
Om's brows knitted tighter. This isn't right… his pulse is weak, but he's alive. He patted Dev's face once. Twice. No response.
A sigh escaped him, and he straightened.
"Dawon. You try."
The lion tilted his massive head, his golden mane catching flecks of sunlight. With a low rumble of acknowledgment, he leaned forward. His wide tongue swept across Dev's cheek, leaving a streak of wetness.
"Wha—"
Dev's eyelids fluttered, struggling against the glare of the noon sun. His vision blurred; all he saw was a shadow eclipsing the light above him. Slowly, shapes began to take form. A massive jaw. Gleaming fangs. The hot, humid breath of something very large pressing against his face.
Instinct screamed in him. His body jolted, panic surging through his veins. He rolled aside, scrambling on all fours, his hand snatching the claymore from the dirt. He staggered to his feet, though the blade's weight seemed to drag at his weakened arms.
The sight before him froze him mid-motion.
A lion. But not the pitiful, malnourished creature he remembered. No, this was a beast twice his size, a titan wrapped in golden aura, its eyes sharp and intelligent, its mane flowing like molten sunlight. And beside it…
A boy. Broad-shouldered, his stance steady, no longer frail and hesitant like the Om Dev once knew. His clothes were travel-worn, yet there was a sharpness in his posture, his muscles hardened, his expression calm yet unreadable.
The claymore wavered in Dev's trembling grip. His cracked lips parted. "Who… who are you two?"
Silence.
The boy and the lion looked at each other—then looked away almost sheepishly, as if the question itself were absurd.
Om rubbed the back of his neck. "…You really don't recognize us, Dev?" His voice was quiet, but there was an unmistakable trace of shyness in it.
Dev's eyes widened. His mind turned, searching. Slowly… realization struck. The breath caught in his throat.
"…Om?" he whispered, disbelieving. "And… Dawon?"
The lion rumbled, lowering his massive head, as if answering the call of his name.
Tears welled in Dev's eyes before he could stop them. The claymore slipped from his grip, clattering against the stone. His knees wobbled, and his pride—the very thing that had once made him insufferably arrogant—crumbled in that moment.
"Please…" His voice cracked, breaking into raw desperation. "Please… give me something to eat."
Om blinked. He had not expected this. Slowly, he reached into the small satchel slung across his shoulder. His fingers found two small pills—nutrient-packed, designed to restore strength and replenish energy. He crouched before Dev and extended his hand.
Dev didn't hesitate. He grabbed them, bowing his head low. "Thank you. Thank you!" His voice shook with gratitude. He swallowed them in a single gulp, his throat working painfully around the dry medicine.
Minutes passed.
The tension in Dev's body eased as warmth spread through him. His shallow breaths deepened; some color returned to his pale face. His shaking hands steadied, though his frame was still far from recovered.
By then, the three of them had moved to a quiet pond a short distance away. The water rippled with silver light, reflecting the scattered rays of sun through the leaves. Dawon stretched his massive form near the edge, his claws submerged lazily in the cool stream. Om sat cross-legged on the grass, watching the ripples. Dev leaned forward, cupping water in his hands, splashing his face.
Finally, Dev turned to Om. His voice was softer, tinged with awe. "You two… you've completely changed. What… what happened to you? What have you been up to?"
Om's lips curved faintly, but not in mirth. More like hesitation. He avoided Dev's gaze, fiddling with a pebble in his hand. "Nothing much," he said at last, his tone casual. "Just some regular training. That's all."
Dev narrowed his eyes. He wasn't a fool. He could see Om's physique, Dawon's aura, the unshakable bond between them. This wasn't "regular training." This was transformation. Still, after a long pause, he sighed and let it go. "…Fine. If you say so."
Om finally met his gaze, a shadow of guilt flickering in his eyes. "And you? Why were you lying in the middle of the forest like that?"
For the first time, Dev's cheeks reddened. He averted his eyes, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. But instead of answering directly, his pride rose to the surface once again, forcing his lips into a cocky grin.
"Do you know," he said loudly, puffing his thin chest, "that I've already killed five thousand beasts in just one month?"
The clearing fell silent. Even the pond seemed to still.
Om blinked. Then blinked again. "…What?"
Dawon tilted his massive head, golden eyes narrowing as if he too doubted his ears.
Dev crossed his arms smugly, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that his arms were skin and bone. "You heard me right. Five. Thousand. Beasts. In a month."