A war rages between the Searpur village and the Teahataa. A grudge no one can forget, blood spilled for years. Soldiers have died, and the war has lasted longer than any clan has ever seen.
Today might be the day it ends, because the Searpur army is running out of luck. Their best warriors are falling one by one. Everywhere you look, bodies lie on the ground, and vultures circle above, waiting to feast.
"Commander Valkor, we must retreat!" a wounded soldier shouts, blood seeping from his armor.
"Sir, what are your orders? Should we retreat? Today is not our da—ahhh!" Another soldier is cut down by an arrow before he can finish.
Commander Taren Valkor watches his men die like dry leaves falling from trees.
As commander of the Bambose army, he knows he must stand firm. Win or lose, a commander cannot abandon the battlefield. If he is going to lose, he will lose with dignity. He cannot forget his oath to protect his village.
"Soldiers!" he roars. "You want to run? Then run—run like cowards! But how long can you run? If the Teahataa win, they will kill everyone in the village. They will enslave your children, murder your parents, and harm your families!
Run, cowards! But I will protect this village until my last breath! Hee—ha ha ha! I, Taren Valkor, will not run! Today I become history… or a legend forever!"
Commander Valkor stands firm.
The enemy army has eighty-six men, four battalion commanders, and General Sorin Malrek.
Valkor, with only twenty-three men and his loyal pupil, stands under the clear sky. Their feet sink slightly in the mud. Most soldiers are wounded, some barely able to stand—but they stand for their families and village.
Sorin Malrek, guarded by his battalion commander Bolster, watches from high ground, smiling.
"Hhhhhh… ahhhhhh…" He takes a deep breath. "What a day. Today is special, Bolster. We will complete the dream our ancestors have carried for seventeen years… finally." His cold eyes gleam.
Many soldiers flee, desperate to survive a little longer.
Among the chaos, a wounded horse runs toward the forest, arrows piercing its body. On its back, a soldier clings tightly. He belongs to Searpur village.
The Hyun knows one thing: they are losing, and the war ends today. If the Teahataa catch him, death would be kinder.
If I escape, I can start a new life, he thinks.
I never wanted this war. I wanted farming—a small field to grow flowers, a house full of hope, a life I could enjoy. When old age comes, I just want to sip my drink slowly, savoring every moment.
He rides for over twenty minutes, deeper into the forest. But the horse collapses, unable to continue.
The Hyun climbs down and kneels by the horse.
"Today you showed me strength. I'll never forget you, my friend. You gave me hope to keep moving forward."
People say if a horse dies beneath you, it's a bad omen. But what omen is worse than this cursed war?
He whispers, "Thank you, my friend. I'm grateful for your loyalty. Please forgive me."
Drawing his sword, he spares the horse from suffering—better this than letting wild dogs finish it.
The Hyun starts walking, tired and slow.
Suddenly, the sound of hooves echoes behind him, near where he left the horse. The noise grows louder. He freezes.
I have to move fast… He runs deeper, careful not to make noise. The sun sinks, shadows stretch, and darkness creeps through the forest.
Then—silence. The hooves stop. The forest is too quiet.
He trembles—not from soldiers, but from what he sees.
A full-grown deer lies dead. Its body is untouched, but deep cuts mark it, as if by blades.
What killed it? A bear? He must be careful… it might smell him.
Fear grips him more than ever. This danger is not from the Teahataa army.
He knows he has entered someone's territory.
Shelter Memories
Finding shelter is his first priority—one wrong step in the dark, and death could be waiting.
After careful steps, he finds a large boulder with a narrow crack—a tight space, but just wide enough to slip inside.
"This spot will have to do for tonight," he whispers. "No fire. The enemy's eyes are too sharp."
The sun sinks beneath the forest canopy. Shadows swallow the landscape, and from far away, wolf howls pierce the silent air, sending a chill through his bones.
His body screams from exhaustion. Every muscle aches from the day's battles, but numbness dulls the pain. Peeking at the full moon hanging high, he presses his back against the cold stone and sinks to the ground.
Thoughts rush in—unwelcome but impossible to silence.
I wonder if Kejashi is still alive. He's the only one I trust—not just a friend, but a brother forged in blood.
Memories flicker of their youth: endless sword practice, dreams of freedom beyond their oppressed lives.
We were just boys at fifteen, hungry for coin and hope.
Three years passed. They became soldiers, side by side on countless battlefields.
Hii, Hyun, wake up…
A voice repeats, slowly rising, like someone shouting in his ear.
Hii, Hyun, time to go home, buddy.
Hyun wakes from his sleep. No one is there. He is alone in the jungle.
Ohh, Kejashi…" he murmurs, remembering the promise they made to survive no matter what.
Time to go home, Hyun. We're going to be late.
Yeah… you are right. Let's go.
Craving the warmth of family, he shivers. The forest grows colder, the night deeper and quieter.
Suddenly, a heavy crack shatters the silence. A tree is torn from the earth like a fragile sapling.
Boom! The ground trembles as the tree crashes nearby. who's there?