"He bears the curse of the flame. We MUST destroy him. You know how many curses there have been already."
The woman on the white linen bed sobbed, tears streaming down her face. When she heard the words of the mage-doctor, she broke down even more. On the floor lay a newborn, its tiny hands grasping at the air, hoping to catch something—but it reached into nothing. As it began to cry, burn marks appeared on its small body. A flame shimmered on its skin. When the crying stopped, the flame vanished—like a tattoo fading.
The doctor raised his hand. Green mana gathered in his palm, shooting upward and forming a sharp spike of pure energy.
"I-I'm sorry, but this child is another curse that cannot be stopped."
He paused, then continued:
"If we wait… but now, we can still stop the curse."
The green mana spike shot toward the newborn.
"It wouldn't be a good life f—"
Blood splattered across the room's walls. A faint groan echoed. Blood dripped down the walls, staining the doctor's chamber. It pooled on the floor.
"W-what have you d-done!?"
The mother had thrown herself in front of the child. She must have reacted instantly. The spike pierced her completely. It dissolved into green particles, leaving a gaping hole in her abdomen. As she spoke her final words, blood trickled from her lips.
"P-please protect yourself, M-Mike…"
She collapsed into her own blood—lifeless.
Now, only Mike and the doctor remained in the room.
"What was she thinking? A life wasted for nothing. I'll deal with you later."
The doctor walked out the door and vanished.
The newborn Mike was soaked in blood, trembling and crying. For a moment, his eyes shifted from blue to a fiery orange-red.
---
Half a day later, Mike lay wrapped in cloth on a straw bed, asleep. Two village knights stood before him, talking.
One spoke anxiously:
"T-they can't be serious. A cursed child in Gyrtor village? A-and what kind of curse does he have?"
The other knight replied:
"You fool, look at his eyes—fire red!"
He pointed at Mike. His eyes were now completely red, radiating a hot aura. Their awe was interrupted when a messenger entered the house.
"It has been decided by the village's eldest and strongest: the doctor will be executed, and Mike will be trained."
The knights exchanged surprised glances. Then one said:
"Fine by me. Maybe the boy will become a killer or—"
The other interrupted:
"Or he'll burn the whole village down!"
---
Fifteen years passed since the decision to train Mike. He had made great progress. When he struck his sword against the training dummy, it shattered, scattering sand across the training yard.
Mike shrugged:
"Seriously? That's the third time this week."
He eyed the split dummy, then approached the next one, took his stance, and struck quickly. The dummy shook but held firm. Suddenly, as Mike paused to catch his breath, a voice rang out behind him.
It was the strongest in the village—Zör. Only 23, yet incredibly powerful, with immense strength, high mana, and unmatched speed. Mike had to fight him daily.
"Ugh, not again. Every time I fight you, I lose all motivation."
Mike stretched his hands and sighed. Zör stood in white armor, bearing the village's crest.
"If you can't beat me, use it as motivation."
Mike chuckled. In a blink, Zör was in front of him, hand extended beside Mike's head.
"Then give it your all, Mike."
Mike stopped stretching, slapped Zör's hand away, and readied himself. Zör stepped back.
"What now?"
He grabbed his armor and pulled it off—it crashed to the ground with a metallic clatter.
Zör charged like the wind, rushing toward Mike.
"I-I can't dodge that!"
Mike raised both hands in defense. Zör struck repeatedly. Mike dodged right, and in that moment, countered with a powerful kick to Zör's side, sending him flying.
"Mike, I'll give you that—well done!"
Whoosh! Zör vanished, leaving a gust of wind.
"W-where is he?"
Zör appeared behind Mike and landed a direct punch to his shoulder. Mike collapsed into the dusty sand.
"See? Strength means nothing. It's all about technique."
Mike groaned and curled up.
"T-that makes no sense—you're strong!"
That evening, Mike sat sadly at his room's dinner table.
"I-I just can't beat him…"
He slammed his hand on the table—it split in two.
"Oops, I should be careful—"
Suddenly, pain surged through him—unlike anything he'd felt before. Zör had hit him many times, but this pain was beyond comparison. Mike collapsed, screaming.
"Arghhh! What is this!?"
He blacked out. The last thing he saw were flames engulfing him.
Even in sleep, he felt pain and sorrow. When he awoke, he was surrounded by ash.
"W-what?"
Mike stood up. His hands were covered in blood and ash. His clothes were torn—only his pants remained. As he looked around, he saw only destruction.
"W-what happened?"
He looked down at the rubble beneath him. There lay Zör's lifeless body, a sword through his abdomen, covered in cuts.
"ZÖR? N…no. A sword fight? With who?"
A voice echoed. Mike turned toward it.
"There he is!"
About twenty knights stood there, clad in black armor bearing the lion's crest.
"T-they're from Castle Syltrir—the king's house…"
More figures appeared behind Mike, but he only saw shadows before being knocked unconscious. He didn't even feel the pain.
"Take him. He's the child of flame."
The knights hoisted Mike onto their shoulders and left.
---
Mike slowly opened his eyes. He scanned his surroundings and realized he was in a caravan—alone. He couldn't see much of what was transporting him. First, he had to process everything that had happened.
"We're here… child of flame."
---
--
This is the first chapter of the story—I hope you enjoy it. I also want to mention something: after every fifth chapter, there will be a short piece of world lore at the end. Since this is Chapter 1, I'll include the first lore entry here. Then again in Chapters 5, 10, 15… you get the idea. So let's begin.
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Lore Entry 1: The Devourer of Worlds
The world we live in is said to have been created by a being known as the Devourer of Worlds. According to legend, it consumed too many worlds and eventually had to spit something back out. But in doing so, the remnants of those devoured worlds merged—and from that chaos, our world was born.
Mike closed the book of lore.
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