When Lian arrived at the next village, he sensed immediately that it was nothing like Ervandor. The streets were silent; the air itself seemed heavy with unease. People spoke only in hushed tones, glancing nervously over their shoulders, as if even the wind might carry danger.
The village felt blanketed in dread.
Lian didn't ignore it. He stopped travelers, questioned merchants, even asked children—but most only shook their heads, their eyes wide, their mouths sealed by fear.
At last, an old man shuffled close, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Traveler… have you heard the rumors? They say there's a creature—terrifying, bloodthirsty—living deep in the mountains near here. It takes livestock from our pens… and those who wander too far… it eats them."
Lian listened, and he could tell: this was no idle tale. The villagers' fear wasn't imagined—it was rooted in something real.
So he decided to see for himself.
He entered the mountains alone, hours passing in a silence so complete it was unsettling.
The forest was still. Too still.
Then, he began to see it—signs.
Massive trees torn from their roots, left sprawled like broken giants. The ground littered with carcasses of animals, their bodies ripped apart, blood soaking into the soil. The air was thick with the copper tang of death.
"This must be it…" Lian thought grimly.
He tightened his grip on his sword and moved forward, every sense sharp, every step measured.
Then he heard it.
A sound from deep ahead—a colossal snore, low and rumbling, shaking the very ground.
Lian followed it, creeping toward the mouth of a cave.
Inside, the darkness was deep, but slowly, a shape began to emerge.
It was huge. Far larger than anything he had expected.
An ogre—but not like any ogre he had seen before.
This one was easily a head taller, perhaps more than a third larger than even the biggest of its kind.
It crouched in the center of the cavern, its body wrapped in thick, leathery skin. Enormous claws dug trenches into the rock with every shift of its weight.
But what held Lian's gaze was the weapon clutched in its hand: a monstrous club, a tree torn from the earth itself, its roots hacked off and its trunk hardened by use.
In the hands of this creature, that club could flatten a wall—or a man—with a single blow.
Lian studied the cavern floor. Bones were scattered everywhere. Some bleached white, some still wet with fresh blood.
There was no doubt. This was the "slayer" whispered about in the village—the beast that carried off cows and pigs, that devoured the lost.
But Lian could tell by its stance, even as it slept, that this was no mindless animal. Its weapon bore the marks of use—of battles fought and won.
"This one… it knows how to kill."
Lian took a breath, then stepped deeper into the cave.
The snoring stopped.
The hulking body stirred.
Slowly, the ogre's eyes opened—two burning coals in the dark.
It sniffed the air, and its head turned, locking on to him.
"Rrrrgh… Who dares set foot in my domain?" the ogre growled, its voice a grinding rumble.
Lian didn't answer.
The ogre stood, unfolding to its full, terrifying height—its head nearly brushing the cavern ceiling. The massive club rose in one hand, its tip slick with old blood.
Lian drew his sword.
The ogre took one step forward. The ground quaked.
"You will be my prey!"
It swung.
The club came down like a falling mountain, pulverizing stone, exploding the earth in a spray of dust and shards.
But Lian was already gone.
He darted aside, his body low, his movements fluid.
The ogre snarled, swinging again, wider this time, the club ripping the air as it came for him.
Lian didn't meet the strike head-on. He let the weight of the blow slide past, his feet twisting, his sword ready.
The ogre's frustration grew.
"You cannot run forever!" it roared, its swings becoming faster, angrier.
Lian saw his opening.
The club rose high again.
In that instant, Lian slipped under its guard, his blade flashing as it slashed across the ogre's left leg.
The cut was deep.
The ogre howled, staggering, its balance faltering.
Lian pressed the attack, a sharp strike at the right arm.
The beast reeled, the massive club slipping from its grasp, crashing to the ground like thunder.
Roaring, the ogre lunged with its bare hands, trying to crush him in its grip.
But Lian was faster.
He spun past the reaching arm and drove his blade hard into the creature's knee.
The joint buckled.
The ogre dropped to one knee, its bellow of rage echoing through the cavern.
Lian leapt, boots finding purchase on its bent leg.
With one fluid motion, he drove his sword across its throat.
Blood burst, hot and red, splashing the cave walls.
The ogre gave one strangled grunt—and fell.
The earth shook as its body collapsed.
Lian landed lightly, his blade still in hand, his breath sharp in the stillness.
The "slayer" was dead.
He stood in the quiet cavern, breathing in the stench of blood and stone.
The beast that had haunted the village would trouble them no longer.
But as he sheathed his sword, he knew there would be more like this. Stronger. Smarter.
I have to grow stronger too, he thought, turning toward the light beyond the cave.
And with that, he left the darkness behind.
***
Episode : The Ogre's Head Hung in the Village
Lian returned to the village with the ogre's head.
It was so large it looked like a boulder, and when he hung it from the great tree in the village square, the people gasped.
Fear melted into relief.
The elder clasped his hands and bowed deeply.
"Thank you. Tonight, we celebrate."
That evening, the village came alive.
Laughter filled the square, mugs of ale clinked, the air smelled of roasting meat.
Lian stood among the revelers, a cup pressed into his hand.
"Here, drink! To the man who slew the beast!" someone shouted, grinning.
Lian accepted the drink politely—but he could already feel their motives shifting.
The first group stayed close, too close. They smiled, they poured him more, their words slurred with alcohol.
"A man like you shouldn't travel alone," one said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Join us. With you in our ranks, there's nothing in Astralium we couldn't do."
Another shoved another cup toward him.
"Think about it. Together, we could be unstoppable."
Lian smiled faintly, set the drink down.
"I appreciate the offer. But I travel better alone."
His voice was calm, but the refusal was firm.
He turned to leave the table, but another group approached—young faces this time, their eyes bright, their tone earnest.
"Warrior… we're still learning. But if you joined us, we could learn so much more. Please—consider our party?"
Their politeness was genuine.
But Lian still shook his head.
"If you grow stronger together, you'll do well—no matter who stands beside you. But this path… isn't mine to share. Not now."
He encouraged them gently, then stepped away.
That was when Alexis Lumir appeared.
The heir of the Lumir family strode into the square in polished armor, his expression dripping with superiority.
He stopped at the sight of the ogre's head, then laughed softly, dismissively.
"That ogre? If I'd been here, it would've been over even faster. You were just lucky."
Lian looked at him without a word.
The silence made Alexis frown, irritation creeping into his voice.
"I hear you're strong. But alone? Alone, you'll hit your limits. Join my party. I'll train you myself—I'll make you greater."
He crossed his arms like a man offering a gift that must be accepted.
Lian's answer was simple, calm.
"No. I don't intend to join you. I'm fine on my own."
Alexis' face twisted.
"What? Do you know who I am? I am the heir of the Lumir family! And you dare—"
Lian only shook his head.
Alexis sputtered, his voice sharp and petulant.
"Fine. Refuse, then. But don't expect my family to respect you."
He stormed off, his pride bruised, his footsteps angry against the stones.
Lian exhaled softly, the faintest sigh.
Alexis' arrogance was nothing new. Nor was his ignorance.
Lian turned back toward the inn, his thoughts already elsewhere.
Would he have been so bold… if he'd known I was the crown prince?
The thought flickered, then faded.
It didn't matter.
He had his own path to walk, and he wouldn't be pulled from it by fools or flatterers.
Tonight, he would rest.
Tomorrow, he would continue.
The journey was far from over.
**
Episode : The Powerful Monk
Dawn was only just breaking when Lian left the village behind, the last wisps of mist curling around his horse's hooves. The noise of last night's festival—the laughter, the toasts, the endless offers from adventurers—had faded into memory. At last, he rode in silence beneath a pale sky, the gold of the waking sun spilling across an endless plain.
He reined in for a moment, letting the stillness wash over him. The horizon stretched unbroken, a meeting of earth and sky, and for a fleeting moment he felt the rare weightlessness of peace.
But thirst reminded him he was not immune to simpler needs. He reached for his waterskin—then stopped.
A figure was approaching along the road.
The man's head was shaven, his robes threadbare, his steps slow but steady. A monk, by the look of him.
When he reached Lian, his voice was low, edged with fatigue.
"Warrior, my throat is dry from walking. I can go no farther. Might you share some water?"
Lian hesitated. A hundred small doubts flickered—could this be a ploy? a trap?—but the man's face told a different story. There was nothing but exhaustion in those eyes.
Lian dismounted and held out his waterskin.
"Drink. Quench your thirst."
The monk's lips curved into a grateful smile as he drank, then bowed deeply.
"May the gods bless your kindness."
They exchanged only a few more words before parting, Lian continuing on his way.
The road narrowed, pulling him toward a stand of trees. His horse shied suddenly, muscles quivering, ears pricked to a tension Lian couldn't yet see.
He swung down, scanning the forest.
A sound ripped through the air—the snap of branches, the crush of weight.
A beast emerged from the shadows, massive horns curling over its head, teeth bared in a snarl.
"So this is what you are," Lian muttered, drawing his sword.
The creature lowered its head, ready to charge—
—and then a voice cut through the air.
"Wait. Put away your sword."
Lian turned.
The monk.
He was walking toward them, calm, unarmed.
The beast froze.
It stared at the monk—then slowly lowered its head, pressing its snout to the earth in a gesture of submission.
Lian blinked.
"How…?"
The monk placed one hand on the beast's horned head, stroking its coarse hide like one would a stray dog.
"This creature was only guarding its home. It had no wish to kill."
With a quiet gesture, he sent it back into the forest. The beast slipped into the trees, the tension in the clearing dissolving as though it had never been.
Lian stared.
"Who are you?"
The monk smiled, serene.
"I am only a monk. But there is much in this land you do not yet understand. Not every battle must end with blood. Sometimes… understanding is enough."
Lian held his gaze, the words lodging somewhere deep.
The monk stepped back, his robes whispering against the grass.
"Keep your heart open. Learn to see the world differently."
And then he was gone, disappearing into the forest as quietly as he had come.
Lian stood alone, the sun rising higher, and felt his world widen.