"Those who take refuge in cowardice shall never achieve greatness, those who break out of their refuge shall become the greatest of all, I was not one of them. I hid in my cowardice."
-From the Records of Ashenborne, 1.
Danny drifted in the cold embrace of eternal darkness, suspended in a void without beginning or end. It was not oppressive, nor was it hostile—it simply was. For the first time since he could remember, there was no pain, no guilt, no expectations. There was nothing, and in that nothingness, he found relief.
Relief flowed through his disembodied soul like a balm, soothing every raw nerve and jagged edge. He felt unshackled from his mortal form, freed from the agonies of his past life. Hunger, thirst, and fear dissolved into the void, leaving only a profound stillness. For a time—how long, he could not say—Danny simply existed, basking in the silence.
And yet, even in that blissful emptiness, a faint longing lingered. He was waiting for something, someone—a grim specter or benevolent spirit to guide him to the afterlife. It was what should come next, wasn't it? But no one came.
Time stretched endlessly, or so it seemed. Days? Years? Centuries? It didn't matter. He became part of the void, and the void became part of him.
But the stillness was shattered by a blinding light.
It pierced the infinite darkness with a brilliance so intense that Danny recoiled instinctively. The light was warm, radiant, and alive. It consumed the void, drawing him toward it with an irresistible pull.
He resisted at first, gripping onto the silence he had come to cherish. But the light called to him, and its pull grew stronger. He felt himself unraveling, a fragment of his soul reaching toward it.
Then came the voice.
"Oh lodestone, shepherd of life, I have been waiting for thee to finally reach me."
Danny's entire being trembled at the sound. It was soft, melodious, and kind—a voice unlike any he had ever heard. His mind, so long accustomed to the quiet, struggled to comprehend it.
"A… voice?" he whispered, though he had no body to give the words sound.
"Oh lodestone, thou must not fret. It hath taken me a long time to find thee, but now I have thee in my grasp."
Danny's confusion deepened. "What are you talking about? Who… who are you?"
The voice answered with gentle patience, "Oh anguished warrior, thou hast reached an unfavorable end, hast thee not? Fear not. Though thou may not remember much of thyself, I can return it to thee."
Before he could respond, memories flooded his mind—chaotic and disjointed at first, then sharper, clearer.
*
He was Daniel Forrester. Seventeen years old when he was transported to another world. A world where he was nothing.
He was incapable of Skilling.
The realization hit him like a blade to the chest. He remembered the scornful gazes, the rejection, the hopelessness. In that alien world, he was a parasite, scraping by on begging, stealing, and worse. He was lost, spiraling deeper into despair with every passing day.
Until she found him.
Klover.
The memory of her brought warmth to his cold soul. She had pulled him out of the abyss, helped him find purpose. Together, they had built something out of the ruins of his life. But that life…
It was gone now.
Danny gasped—or at least, his soul did, though it felt as though he were breathing again. The sensation was alien, foreign after so long in the void.
The voice came again, pulling him from the tide of his memories.
"Remember, dear lodestone. Remember thine final days."
More memories poured in, sharper and crueler.
He had formed a group—misfits and outcasts like himself. They had braved countless trials together, fought side by side, and survived against impossible odds. Until they didn't.
Uri. Vanis. Seline. Klover. One by one, they had fallen.
Danny remembered the trap—the Nine-Legged Arachnid, an abomination of monstrous strength. He had seen the signs, the warnings, but he ignored them, blinded by his own arrogance. He had led them to their deaths.
And in the end, he had run.
The memory of his cowardice struck like a physical blow. He saw himself stumbling through the cave, abandoning Klover as the monster closed in. He remembered the searing pain of the spider's leg piercing his body, the taste of blood in his mouth, and the cold inevitability of death.
A sudden, piercing sting shot through his soul: emotions.
They hit him all at once—a tidal wave of dread, regret, fear, love, joy, anger. Each one stabbed through him like a thousand needles, raw and unbearable. He recoiled from them, suffocated by the sheer weight of feeling.
He wanted nothing. He wanted to be nothing.
"No... no... NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" Danny's voice tore through the air, rising into a howl of anguish. He clutched at his head as if he could rip the emotions away. "I don't want them! I want none of them! Take them away! Take them all away! Please... I'm begging you!"
A kind voice, calm yet tinged with confusion, echoed softly around him. "Oh, lodestone, why dost thou reject thine own humanity?"
Danny gasped, his breathing ragged. "No... I don't want it. I can't have it. Please... take me back. Take me back to the darkness. I can't bear this warmth. Whoever you are, please... I can't be Daniel Forrester. Not anymore. Not after... what happened. I can't..." His voice cracked, breaking into a plea. "Please! Take it away!"
Silence stretched between his cries, heavy and unbroken, until the kind voice returned, its tone patient and understanding. "Very well, Breaker of Logic. Thine anguish is understood. I shall grant thy wish. I shall give thee a new body, and I shall take away thy pain. But thou must never forget who thou wast, who thou art, and who thou shalt be. Thou art, and forever will be, Daniel Forrester."
The torment that gripped him began to ease. Slowly, mercifully, the pain faded, leaving behind an unfamiliar calm. But as his peace returned, a new voice stirred within his mind—feminine, commanding, and rough-edged.
Danny's eyes widened in shock. The emotions that had consumed him moments before were gone—not erased, but muted, pushed so far into the background that they barely existed. The yearning for darkness, the strange curiosity about the voices, all of it dimmed, as if drained of their weight.
The kind voice returned, soft yet resolute. "Oh lodestone, I have granted thy will. Yet for thine safety, I must take more away from thee. Thou died a dishonorable death—a death of cowardice. That cannot happen again, not for one like thee, Breaker of Logic. Forgive me."
Danny felt... different. Not in the way he had before, but deeper, subtler. Something fundamental within him had shifted, as though a small piece of his soul had been carved away. He felt lesser—but not worse for it.
Then the kind voice spoke once more, a finality threading through its words, like the last note of a rising crescendo. "Oh lodestone who guides us all, I have but one final gift for thee. May thou find great use for it."
Danny felt something stir—an ember of curiosity, a spark of desperation. He reached out, his voice raw with longing. "WAIT! I—WHAT... WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!"
"Oh lodestone, Breaker of Logic, thou must not remain a broken shell. Thou must forge thine own path and ascend to something greater. I pray for thee. I shall not be far, and I hope we will meet again."
The kind voice did not answer. Instead, a harsher, more lifeless voice responded, a cold certainty echoing in its tone.
"Host of the mind shall be relocated with a suitable host of the body."
A pause, heavy and deliberate, followed before the voice continued, now resonating deeper, as if embedding itself into his very being.
"Suitable host of the body has been found. Name: Cinder Terwel. Age: 11. Sex: Male. Reason for selection: Host of mind's death and host of body's birth coincided in the same moment. Host of body also perished at the exact instant host of body broke the Law of the World."
Danny felt his consciousness slipping, his soul unraveling as the light enveloped him completely. The warmth burned too brightly, yet it did not scorch—it consumed.
As his eyes began to close, a sharp pain erupted at the back of his head, piercing through the haze.
So this... is pain… he thought as his vision blurred and faded, his mind descending into the light, into a new existence, into a new body.
*
The boy opened his eyes, though his vision was blurred and unfocused. A sharp, relentless pain throbbed at the back of his head, too intense, too unbearable for someone so young. He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings, but his gaze remained fixed on what lay directly before him: the sky.
It was stunningly clear, a canvas of deep blue with soft clouds drifting lazily across its expanse. For a fleeting moment, the boy forgot the pain and simply stared, captivated by the serene beauty overhead.
Then he noticed another sensation—his body was moving, gently pushed and pulled by something cool and fluid. Water. Yes, it had to be water. A weak current flowed against him, carrying him along in its unyielding embrace.
What... am I... doing here? he wondered, his thoughts sluggish and disjointed. Tentatively, he tried to turn his head, but the attempt sent a sharp jolt of pain lancing through his skull. He froze, helpless against the agony.
And then it came.
Memories crashed into him like a tidal wave, overwhelming and unrelenting. Who he had been. Why he was here. What had happened to him. Each revelation struck with brutal force, leaving him reeling under their weight. The flood of knowledge clawed its way into his mind, violating the fragile barriers of his thoughts.
His vision grew worse, the world dissolving into a haze of indistinct shapes and colors. With trembling lashes, he let his eyes close, retreating into darkness. But even there, he felt the unmistakable warmth of water running down his face—tears.
The realization startled him, though only for a moment. Slowly, he let the tears fall freely, unbidden and unrestrained. A quiet sob escaped his lips, raw and broken, his voice cracking soon after.
That was the first emotion he truly felt, sadness and the overwhelming need to cry was all he had to respond to it and so like a newborn baby, the boy kept on crying.
End of Volume 1: Man of Fear