Dawn had not yet broken when a small body lay sprawled across the cold grass in the heart of the forest.
A frail boy, his feet bare, his clothes torn as though he had fought and lost a war. His face was pale, his forehead damp with sweat, and his chest rose slowly with each ragged breath—like a candle defying the wind.
That boy's name was Lloyd.
The sole survivor of a catastrophe that burned an entire district of Austria to the ground.
The child whom people saw as nothing but emptiness… a defective creature born without a core.
…
When Lloyd awoke, he found himself in a warm place unlike anything he had known for a long time. He lay on a simple yet comfortable bed, a blanket warming his frail body. Beside him was a plate of food, its aroma rich and tempting, something he hadn't smelled in days.
The moment his eyes landed on the food, he attacked it like a starving beast. He devoured it with desperate hunger, tears streaming down his face with every bite. But this time, his tears were not of sorrow—they were tears of joy. The joy of a child who thought he would never taste bread again.
At that moment, the door creaked open.
A man in his mid-forties entered. His hair was white and unruly, his sharp features marked by years of battle, and his dark eyes glimmered with a predator's intensity. His presence alone filled the room with silent authority.
Lloyd froze, staring at the man with wide eyes. He felt a strange fear—not of the man himself, but of the overwhelming aura that radiated from him.
The stranger smiled faintly and said in a deep voice:
— "Calm down, boy… the food won't run away."
Lloyd's gaze lingered on him with caution and suspicion, then he resumed eating, but slower this time. The man watched him for a moment before sitting on a wooden chair near the bed.
— "My name is Cain."
His voice was calm, yet carried a weight that demanded respect.
— "I found you lying in the forest, on the brink of death. I saved you… but what puzzled me was that you have no core. I've never seen anything like it in my life."
Lloyd froze, his jaw stiffening. The man's words tore open an old wound he had carried his whole life.
But Cain's smile was not mocking—it was genuine, almost kind.
— "Don't be afraid. To me, a core is not everything. What matters is the hand that wields the sword… and the heart that does not break."
Lloyd felt a strange warmth in his chest. The words echoed his late father's voice, as if fate itself had returned his father's will through this stranger.
Cain stood, turning toward the door. But before leaving, he spoke firmly:
— "You'll stay here, if you wish. This place is safe. And if fate has cursed you to live without a core… then I'll teach you how to fight without one."
He left the room, and silence once again filled the air.
Lloyd sat quietly, his eyes fixed on the closed door, his heart a storm of fear, wonder, and curiosity. For the first time since that cursed night, he felt safe—yet the man's presence made sleep impossible.
Hours passed slowly until Cain returned, carrying firewood. He lit the hearth, filling the room with warmth, then turned to Lloyd and said:
— "You'll stay here, at least until you regain your strength. After that… we'll decide what comes next."
Lloyd gave no reply, only a shy nod. He had nothing left but obedience.
In the days that followed, he began to adapt to life in Cain's cabin—a simple wooden home at the edge of the forest. Food was plentiful, the bed was warm, and the fire never died. To Lloyd, it was paradise compared to the hunger and cold he had known.
But what intrigued him most was Cain himself.
Cain woke before dawn, disappearing into the forest with a massive sword strapped to his back. He returned hours later, weary but composed, his eyes carrying the look of someone who had lived more than one lifetime—someone who bore secrets far beyond imagination.
One night, as they sat by the fire, Lloyd asked in a hesitant voice:
— "Why… did you save me?"
Cain lifted his eyes from the blade he was polishing and, after a brief silence, answered:
— "Because I saw in you something I once saw in myself, long ago."
Lloyd did not understand, but the words pierced deep into his heart.
Days later, Cain spoke with a tone of finality:
— "Lloyd… you are without a core, and that will make your life harder than anyone else's. But if you choose to stay with me, I'll teach you how to wield a sword. A sword does not need a core—it needs a strong hand and an unyielding mind."
Lloyd hesitated, then lifted his eyes and asked, voice trembling:
— "But… how? How can I do that? I'm just weak. I have no skill, no strength, nothing special at all."
Cain set the sword aside and smiled faintly:
— "Do you think skill is something people are born with? Of course not. Skill is forged. And tell me… have you ever heard of something called Ki?"
— "Ki…?" Lloyd echoed, bewildered.
— "Yes, Ki," Cain replied seriously.
— "What is it? Some kind of special power? And can I use it… even without a core?"
Cain burst into laughter—loud, but not mocking. It was the laughter of a man who held absolute confidence:
— "Hahaha… Ki is not some magical ability. It is the name we give to complete mastery over your senses, refined to their utmost limit. When you master it, you will see, hear, and feel things others cannot even imagine. It elevates you to a higher plane of strength. But of course, you must train your mind just as much as your body."
Lloyd sat in silence, but for the first time in years, his eyes began to shine. He didn't fully understand Cain's words, but he felt something opening before him—a door he never knew existed.
And so, in the glow of the fire, beneath the quiet shroud of the forest night, a new vow was born.
A vow between teacher and student.
A vow that would transform Lloyd from a boy without a core… into a blade of nothingness.
| End of Chapter 2 |