Branches creaked from all sides, the very dirt beneath his body heating up—pulsing, as if trying to tell him—no, yell at him to wake.
But it was no use. He wouldn't wake up.
Not until he did.
Gasping for air, he looked around. The trees were rotting from the inside out, their branches reaching toward him as if trying to pull him in—trap him so he could never get out.
"Hello? Anybody around?"
He called out, his voice echoing through the dark forest. Looking down, he noticed a rough, dark cloak covering his legs. But that wasn't the only thing on him: a sword rested at his side, a strange watch was strapped to his left wrist, and knight armor covered his body.
The armor was red—maybe to hide the blood more easily. He sighed, only to have pain shoot through his torso. Looking down, he saw a crow pecking into his side.
With a grimace, he grabbed it and hurled it across the clearing. It slammed into a tree, its head splitting open on impact.
"Stupid crow," he grumbled under his breath.
He stood up, legs wobbling for a few seconds before steadying. But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw something—vines from the tree where he had thrown the crow were wrapping around its corpse, dragging it into the tree. Inside the bark, he saw corpses—all reaching out toward him.
That was enough for him.
He quickly gathered the few items around him and started walking. As he moved, he questioned his surroundings. Why am I here? What are all these things on me?
But the real question was Where was he?
He had no answers—and he definitely wasn't going to find them staying in this cursed place.
So he kept walking, wandering aimlessly through the forest. As he moved, he noticed how the forest seemed to watch him. The corpses trapped in the rotting trees longed for an extra soul—his.
"I hate this place. I want to get out of here," he growled, biting his lip in frustration. He felt like he was walking in circles. He felt stupid.
Then, a buzzing came from his left wrist.
He looked down to see the watch glowing a faint blue. A needle on top of it was pointing in a direction—north.
The walk was long. The branches of the dead trees clawed at him. Voices echoed from within them, and he wondered if he was really heading in the right direction. He also began to wonder: What do I even look like? How old am I?
Questions he couldn't answer.
Crows screeched louder and louder as he walked, and just as he stepped out of the dim, lightless, rotting forest—he saw where he truly was.
A battlefield.
Weapons of all sizes littered the ground. Skeletons were scattered everywhere—some giant, some human-sized. Some wore armor. Others wore tattered clothes. But all of them were dead.
But bones and blades weren't the only things there. Monsters roamed, some flying above the clouds, others lumbering across the blood-soaked field.
Each one a walking nightmare.
"Welcome to the Land of Monstrosity, Soldier of Dawn."
The watch spoke as it glowed faintly.
"Wait—Soldier of Dawn? What's a Soldier of Dawn?" the boy asked, raising his wrist. But the watch said nothing more.
"HEY! SAY SOMETHING, DAMN IT!"
He yelled, flicking it repeatedly.
"I was going to ask who I was," he muttered, his voice soft, his expression falling. He finally had a chance to get answers—but the watch refused to speak.
"Oh well. Doesn't matter that some stupid watch called me a 'soldier' and said this was a land of MONSTERS," he said bitterly, glancing around.
"But what it said checks out—wait, why am I talking to myself?!"
He exclaimed, then groaned and continued walking across the field.
He noticed how the grass crunched under his boots, how the monsters ignored him entirely. The sky above was blanketed in dark, grey clouds—some of them stained darker than storm clouds had any right to be.
Eventually, he reached a village—if it could still be called that. It was in ruins. Houses had collapsed, glass lay shattered, and weapons of all types pierced the walls and rooftops. He wondered what kind of war had been fought here. Then he dismissed the thought—a dumb question, considering everything he had seen.
Something wet dropped onto his head. Then another. Then another.
It was raining.
He ducked into one of the half-standing houses. A massive sword was embedded in the roof. He stared at it, wondering what kind of people wielded such huge weapons.
Sitting against the wall across from the sword, he finally took a good look at himself.
He had brown skin, dark straight hair, glowing blue eyes, and... a tail?
That surprised him. Did that mean he wasn't human? Or not fully human?
The thought lingered, but his body shivered—cold was setting in. The rain poured heavily outside. There was no way he could travel in that without getting sick.
He noticed his tail twitching. He hadn't felt it until now—probably because it had felt so natural, resting behind him. Reaching back to touch it, he instead felt something else: a pouch.
Opening it, he found several bundles of sticks, a small oil lamp, and a box of matches.
He tore off a few wooden panels from the house and looked for something to burn them on. In the kitchen, he found broken pieces of counter slabs and dragged them back to his spot.
He placed the sticks and broken wood down, then struck a match. After a few tries and gentle blowing, the fire finally caught.
Warmth.
He sighed in relief, stretching his hands toward the flames. Then, his stomach growled.
He was hungry.
But there was nothing to eat. He sighed again and leaned his back against the wall, letting himself rest for a moment. He needed to regain strength after walking so long.
He knew he couldn't stay in this house forever. He had to keep going. He had to follow the direction the watch was pointing him.
He had to find home—or at least, a place that might feel like home.