The forest was quiet now.
Too quiet.
Rey's boot pressed against the fading corpse of the wolf. Or rather, where the wolf had once been. A black arm had erupted from the ground, dragging it into the Abyss as though it had never existed. Only the disturbed soil and the lingering smell of blood remained.
Rey didn't think about the way his body had moved—how his reflexes had sharpened beyond his own limits, or how the ∞ symbol on his hand had burned with an eerie glow. He didn't think about the strength that didn't feel like his own.
He only thought of the boy.
The boy who had run blindly, desperate to escape, never expecting Rey to stand between him and death. The boy who had looked at him with hopeless eyes, certain that Rey would die against a numbered beast.
Rey's boots pressed against the damp earth as he followed the familiar dirt path back toward the village. His hands were clenched tightly. His face showed no emotion, but inside, his chest tightened with a knot he couldn't untangle.
"…I survived." He whispered to himself.
A thin veil of smoke curled above the horizon as the village came into view. For a moment, his heart froze, but when he drew closer, laughter and playful shrieks greeted him. The smoke was only from cooking fires.
"I guess they're just having fun," Rey muttered under his breath.
Children ran past him, playing their games in the fading light. Among them, the boy from earlier froze when his eyes met Rey's. He pointed, his voice sharp with disbelief.
"You—how the hell did you survive!?"
Rey stopped walking. His expression remained unreadable, but his silence only drew more attention.
"What do you mean, 'survive'?" one of the boys asked, frowning.
The shaken boy clenched his fists. "I saw him! He was facing a wolf with a number of 42! There's no way he should've lived!"
The group of children turned toward Rey, their eyes widening in curiosity and suspicion. Rey said nothing. He simply walked past them, his footsteps steady.
"Maybe… somebody helped him?" one of the other boys guessed.
"Yeah, maybe that's it," the first boy muttered, though his voice carried doubt.
Behind them, Rey's hand trembled slightly as he clenched his fist.
(That wolf… its number kept going down. 42… then 41… then 39. Was it me?)
His gaze shifted to the faint mark hidden beneath his sleeve. The ∞ symbol glowed ever so faintly, as if mocking his uncertainty.
(…Is this the symbol's doing? If so… I need to test it again. Tomorrow.)
He reached the door to his house, pushing it open. Warm light spilled out from the hearth inside.
At the table, his mother, Rika, stood with a gentle smile. The faint glow of her hand revealed her number: 3,000. His father, Rio, sat on the sofa nearby, his number shining far brighter: 10,000. Both marks were strong, proof of their standing in the village.
"Rey, come on," Rika called warmly. "Dinner's ready."
Rey nodded quietly and sat down. The smell of roasted meat filled the room, but he barely noticed as he began eating quickly, almost mechanically.
Across the table, Rio watched him in silence, his mind drifting back to a day long past.
It had been a stormy night. The heavens had split with thunder, and rain poured endlessly from the sky. Inside their small home, Rika's cries of pain echoed as she clutched her swollen belly.
"Rio!" she screamed. "I—I think it's coming!"
"You can do it, Rika! Hold on!" Rio's voice shook, but his grip on her hand was firm.
Moments later, the midwife lifted a small, crying child into the world. A faint blue glow appeared on the newborn's hand. Rio leaned forward, his breath caught.
"What number…? What number does my son have?" he asked urgently.
But as the light faded, the midwife froze. Her face paled.
"There is… no number," she whispered.
Rio's eyes widened. "What do you mean? Do you mean he's—he's dead?"
The woman shook her head quickly. "No. He lives. But… it is not a number. Look."
She turned the child's tiny hand toward them. Etched into his skin was not a digit but a looping mark. A symbol of eternity.
The mark of ∞.
Rio's voice trembled as he stared at it. "…What does this mean?"
"I don't know," the midwife admitted, her eyes unsettled.
And so, Rey grew up carrying that strange symbol. Not a number to rise and fall like the others, but an endless loop. Because of it, he was mocked, shunned, and bullied. A boy fated to never belong.
Back at the table, Rey ate in silence. When he finished, he set his spoon down.
"I'll go to my room now," he said flatly.
Rika smiled softly. "Alright. Good night, son."
Rey nodded, rising to his feet and leaving the room.
When the door to his bedroom shut, Rio finally spoke. "He's different today."
Rika blinked. "Different?"
Rio frowned, staring at the empty seat where Rey had sat moments ago. "Every meal, Rey always eats slowly. Quietly. As if he has no appetite. But tonight, he ate quickly. Too quickly. Something happened out there."
Rika folded her hands. "…If he's excited, isn't that a good thing? At least he's showing some change."
"Perhaps," Rio muttered. But doubt lingered in his voice.
In his room, Rey lay on his bed, the glow of the moon spilling across the wooden floor. He held his hand up, staring at the ∞ symbol etched into his skin.
"…This power… I need to know what it is." His voice was low, a whisper only he could hear.
His eyes hardened with resolve.
"I need to go to the capital. Maybe there… I'll find the truth behind this symbol."
The ∞ shimmered faintly in the moonlight, as though it had been waiting for those very words.
And in the silence of the night, Rey's journey toward the unknown had quietly begun.