It had been two days since Rick left the territory. He now wandered through a forest called "Cursed." Despite its ominous name, the forest itself held no real threat—at least, not yet.
Rick sat beneath a tree, lost in thought. "Where should I go?" he murmured. He only had ten silver coins to his name—barely enough to survive for a few days, let alone four years. If he wanted to attend the academy, he'd have to earn the tuition on his own.
After some deliberation, he made up his mind. "I'll become an adventurer," he declared. It seemed the best path—traveling the nation, taking on quests, gathering enough money over time. With new resolve, he packed his things and set off once more.
As night fell, Rick found a small, safe spot to rest. Exhausted, he drifted into sleep the moment he lay down.
Meanwhile, elsewhere—deep in Duke Vleck's territory—two shadowy figures met a underground organization in secret. One of them, an unknown outsider, stepped forward. "Who is the boss here?" he asked.
And then said, "We have a task for you. We want you to kill someone."
Then a stranger from organization paused, then questioned, "First of all, who are you? And how much are you paying?"
The reply came calmly, "We don't believe we're obligated to share our identities, and as for the payment—it's 100 gold."
A hush fell over the group. That amount was unheard of—more than a normal person could hope to earn in years.
After a moment, someone finally asked, "That's good and all, but who exactly is the target? We don't want to get involved in something too big."
The mysterious figure answered carefully, "You're right to be cautious. The target is... Duke Vleck's second son."
Gasps broke out. Tension surged through the room. Everyone in the organization began arguing—eyes wide, hands clenched. "The duke rules this entire territory. He's not just powerful—he is the power," one person whispered.
"Silence," said the mysterious man. "You won't need to worry. The duke won't interfere. Rick is an outcast—treated worse than a servant. Duke doesn't care for him. He favors his other sons. You're nervous, yes, but think about this—if he wanted to protect Rick, would he have let him leave?"
As if to calm their nerves, the man pulled something from his cloak. "Here is the proof."
He revealed a small magical device, and upon activating it, an image shimmered in the air—clear evidence that Rick was indeed unwanted, abandoned by his own blood.
The room went silent again. After a while, someone finally stepped forward. "We'll take the job. Just tell us where he is."
The mysterious figure handed over a mana-tracking device. "This will lead you to him. Fifty gold now, and another fifty when the job is done."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
The underground organization fell into disarray—tension rising. They had just accepted a contract to kill the duke's son. Even if Rick was an outcast, it was a dangerous move. Arguments flared, greed clashed with fear. The room was on the edge of chaos.
The guild was in chaos, and a fierce debate had broken out.
"Why should we accept a commission this dangerous?" one member barked. "We're a small group—just thirteen of us. And you want us to kill the duke's son? Are you insane?"
Another snapped back, "The reward is 100 gold. You think that kind of opportunity comes twice?"
"But the second son isn't like the others," someone said. "He's been treated poorly because of his mother's status. He left the territory alone, with no guards. He's practically abandoned. Killing him shouldn't cause any backlash."
"Exactly," another added. "No one will care. No one will even know it was us."
"But still—"
"Shut up," the leader finally said, silencing the room. "We've already accepted the job. He's an outcast, and with the proof we've seen, I don't believe we're in danger. Once it's done, we leave this territory for good—flee to another country. So let's finish it."
Meanwhile, Rick rested in the heart of the forest. After a night of sleep, he decided to gain experience by facing monsters. He wandered through the woods, seeking a weak creature he could take on alone.
Though he found one, it wasn't easy. Two full days passed before he managed to defeat a single monster.
Standing over the monster's lifeless body, Rick felt an unexpected wave of emotion. Emptiness.
He though"Life is truly mysterious,in this world where might rule the word and weak get killed, I am felling sympathy, pain and EMPTINESS.Well,let's forget about it and get back."
It was the first time he had ever killed a living being. Even though it was a monster, the act shook him.
He sat in silence for a while, trying to accept the reality. That night, he stayed still—haunted by the memory.
But the next day, he moved again. And so did his enemies.
After fourteen days since receiving job, the hunters finally left the city and headed toward Vleck. Their destination was clear—and so was their target.
As they neared Vleck, someone in the group muttered, "we should have moved earlier?."
Someone else groaned, "If only we'd gotten the pass to leave earlier, we'd be done with this job already."
"Don't remind me," the boss replied coldly. "Keep going. We don't need permission to kill a brat."
"The Duke's territory is strict," someone muttered. "What if we get caught?"
The boss laughed. "You really think too small. You're worried about a brat the duke doesn't even care about. We're getting 100 gold for this job. Do you know how much that is?"
Someone chimed in nervously, "But he's still the duke's son..."
"Exactly," another added. "What if he changes his mind?"
The boss snarled, "The duke has disowned him. Their relationship is broken. We've already taken the job. Now shut up and tell me how far we are."
After a moment's pause, someone replied, "We'll reach him in a few minutes."
"Good," said the boss. "Let's kill him and get it over with."
"Yeah!" the group shouted, almost cheerfully.
At the same time, Rick decided to move so he packed up his things and began walking again. As he wandered the forest, something sudden pierced the air—a whistling sound.
An arrow.
It shot past him, narrowly missing his shoulder.
Rick froze, then dove behind a tree, heart pounding. He scanned the woods—someone was trying to kill him.
He didn't know who was after him, but one thing was clear:
They weren't here to talk.
Not far off, voices carried through the trees.
"How the hell did you miss from this distance?" one snarled.
Rick edged closer, careful not to rustle a single leaf. Through a gap in the trees, he spotted a group of armed men bickering among themselves.
"Damn it, can't even hit a brat," another growled. "What, you got stone for eyes? Can't even kill a child?"
"He's heading south," someone finally said.
The boss—a tall man with a cruel edge in his voice—snapped, "And you're telling me this now?"
"I tried to tell you earlier, but you were too busy yelling!" the scout replied.
The boss scoffed. "Useless. Fine. We move. Chase him down!"
Rick didn't wait to hear more. He turned and ran, weaving through the forest, clutching his shoulder where the arrow had grazed him. Blood trickled down his arm, warm and sticky, but adrenaline numbed the pain.
He knew he couldn't outrun horses. Their hooves thundered behind him, closing in. One of the riders fired again.
This time, the arrow hit its mark—embedding deep in his shoulder.
Rick stumbled forward, nearly collapsing from the force. He gasped, every breath burning. He couldn't run far like this. But he didn't stop.
Instead, he changed tactics.
He veered deeper into the forest, where trees grew close and tangled. The canopy thickened, choking out the light. The terrain was too tight for horses. The riders cursed and dismounted.
Rick pushed forward, using every bit of strength to press on. Eventually, he reached a narrow ravine and dropped down, hiding in the tall ferns.
The hunters paused at the treeline.
"Where is he?" the boss hissed.
"He's just a few meters ahead, boss," the scout replied.
They rushed forward—only to find a small clearing, empty save for Rick's satchel and cloth, neatly laid out in the underbrush.
"What the hell is this?" one man barked.
"His stuff... but no sign of him?"
Realization dawned slowly. Rick had fooled them. Injured, bleeding, hunted—but he'd still managed to outsmart trained killers.A elleven year child did this.
Silence fell.
"He's eleven," someone whispered. "Just a kid."
"A kid who's running from us ," another said grimly. "That's... terrifying."
Perry, the youngest among them, glanced around nervously. "Boss... now how are we going to find him?"
The boss clenched his fists, his rage boiling beneath his skin. "Damn it…"
He wasn't just hunting a runaway boy anymore.
He was chasing a ghost.
"Why the hell did they threw the tracking chip in his bag?" the boss roared.
A moment of silence passed before someone responded sheepishly, "maybe they thought he will always carry his bag with him."
"Why would you track his belongings instead of the person?" the boss snapped. "That brat didn't even take anything with him!"
"He left the clothes he was wearing," someone else added, trying to deflect the blame. "He must've switched outfits."
"Tch." The boss's face twisted in frustration. "That talent… he's got talent."
The group fell silent.
After a pause, the boss let out a long sigh. "Well, it doesn't matter now. First, we were chasing a boy in our sights. Now we're chasing a ghost who slipped through our fingers."
He turned to the others. "Tonight, we will hunting a prey. Prepare everything. He'll be caught soon enough."Everyone replied"yeah."
I will give them point for the courage and the action they took that led us to a future where whole continent cried.
For now, though, none of that had happened.
It was still just a chase.
But in time, Rick would be remembered—not as the boy who ran, but as the one whose survival sparked a fire that consumed nations.
This all thing is in the future.
And right now…
Rick just had to survive.
—