The escape was chaos.
Smoke filled the corridors of the palace, thick and suffocating, turning the once-beautiful halls into a battlefield of shadows. Flames licked the walls, spreading fast, devouring everything in their path. The clash of steel echoed endlessly—swords striking, armor breaking, men shouting their final cries.
Screams.
Everywhere.
Ellen ran through it all, her breath unsteady but her resolve unshaken. In her arms was Ryan, the youngest prince, still too small to understand the destruction unfolding around him.
His fingers clutched tightly at her clothing.
"Sister… what's happening…?" he asked weakly.
Ellen didn't answer.
She couldn't.
There was no time.
Her sharp eyes scanned every corner, every turn, calculating the fastest route as soldiers fought and died around her. The palace was no longer safe. Nowhere was.
Then—
She saw him.
"Leo!"
The knight turned instantly at the sound of her voice. His armor was stained, his blade dripping with blood, but his posture remained firm—unshaken.
"Princess!" he responded, rushing toward her.
Ellen didn't slow down.
"Take him," she said urgently, pushing Ryan into his arms.
Leo didn't hesitate.
He understood immediately.
Cradling the boy securely, he adjusted his grip, his expression hardening with determination.
"I'll protect him with my life."
But before they could move—
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Numerous.
Enemies were closing in.
Ellen's gaze darkened.
There was no more time.
Her expression turned resolute, all hesitation gone. She stepped forward, placing her hand gently on Ryan's forehead.
The boy looked up at her, confused.
"Sister…?"
Her fingers trembled for a brief moment.
Then stilled.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
A faint glow began to form beneath her palm.
At first, it was soft—barely visible. Then it grew brighter, spreading across Ryan's body like threads of light weaving a powerful seal.
The air shifted.
Energy gathered.
Deep within Ryan, something ancient stirred.
Sylvia.
The Spirit of Energy.
Ellen closed her eyes as she forced the power down, sealing it deep within him—along with his memories, his identity, everything that made him who he was.
Light wrapped around the boy completely.
Ryan's eyes widened for a brief moment—
Then slowly closed.
His body went limp.
Leo caught him before he could fall.
Ellen stepped back, breathing heavily.
"It's done…"
Now the boy's magic along with his memories where sealed
The footsteps grew louder.
Closer.
"Run," Ellen said, her voice calm but firm.
Leo didn't argue.
He didn't look back.
He ran.
Days passed.
Time lost meaning.
Leo ran without rest, carrying Ryan across forests thick with towering trees, across rivers with freezing currents, and over lands unfamiliar and dangerous.
They moved through borders, crossing from one kingdom into another.
Always moving.
Always running.
Ryan remained unconscious for most of the journey.
Until one day—
His eyes slowly opened.
"…Where… am I?" he asked weakly.
His voice was small.
Fragile.
Leo stopped walking.
He looked down at the boy in his arms, relief flashing across his face.
"You're safe," he said.
Ryan blinked slowly, his gaze unfocused.
"…Safe?"
"Yes."
The boy was silent for a moment.
Then—
"What's my name?"
Leo froze.
The question struck deeper than any blade.
For a brief moment, he didn't know what to say.
The prince.
The last hope of the kingdom.
Now… a child without a past.
Leo clenched his jaw.
"…Ryan," he said finally.
The boy repeated it softly.
"Ryan…"
Something about it felt right.
Even without memories.
He nodded slowly.
Days turned into more days.
Their journey continued.
"We've crossed three kingdoms," Leo said one evening, his voice slightly tired but hopeful.
"We should be safe now."
For the first time since the escape—
There was a moment of calm.
A dangerous calm.
Then—
A sharp sound cut through the air.
Thwack.
Leo's body jerked.
An arrow had pierced straight through his chest.
His breath caught.
Blood began to spread across his armor.
Ryan's eyes widened in shock.
"Leo…?"
Leo staggered, his grip tightening as he struggled to stay standing.
"Run…!" he gasped.
Ryan froze.
He didn't understand.
His body wouldn't move.
"RUN!" Leo shouted, his voice filled with urgency.
Something in that voice—
Something powerful—
Broke through Ryan's fear.
He ran.
Branches scraped against his skin as he pushed through the forest, his small body moving as fast as it could.
Behind him—
Footsteps.
Voices.
Enemies were closing in.
Leo dropped to his knees.
His vision blurred.
But he smiled.
"At least… you'll live…" he whispered.
Ryan climbed a tree, his small hands trembling as he pulled himself up, hiding among the thick branches.
Below—
He watched.
He watched everything.
The soldiers surrounded Leo.
There was no mercy.
No hesitation.
They killed him.
Ryan's body shook violently as he covered his mouth to stop himself from making a sound.
But the worst part—
Was yet to come.
They cut off Leo's head.
Just like that.
As if his life meant nothing.
One of the soldiers lifted it up.
"That's the knight," he said.
"But where's the boy?"
They searched.
Everywhere.
But they couldn't find him.
Ryan stayed still.
Silent.
Invisible.
Eventually, they stopped.
"Take the head," another said.
"We'll report that the boy was burned to ash by magic."
They left.
Just like that.
Ryan remained in the tree long after they were gone.
He didn't cry.
He couldn't.
Something inside him had… broken.
Gone silent.
Days later, the news spread across the Kingdom of Xendor.
The war was over.
But victory had come at a terrible cost.
The king had fallen.
After ordering all his soldiers to retreat, King Keith Xendor had stood alone against thousands of enemies.
And he had fought.
Alone.
Until the very end.
Over 7,000 soldiers fell by his blade.
A legend.
Even in death.
The kingdom mourned.
Black banners covered the streets.
Tears filled the eyes of its people.
And soon—
Jason, the eldest son, was crowned as the new king.
But the losses didn't end there.
The youngest prince…
Ryan Xendor…
Was declared dead.
Meanwhile—
Ryan wandered alone.
Through forests.
Through darkness.
Through silence.
Days passed without food.
Without water.
Without hope.
His body weakened.
His steps grew slower.
Until finally—
He collapsed.
When he woke up…
Everything had changed.
A dark room.
Silent.
Cold.
He lay on a soft bed, dressed in black clothing he didn't recognize.
His body felt lighter.
But his mind—
Empty.
A figure stood in the shadows.
Watching him.
"You survived," the man said.
His voice was calm.
Cold.
Ryan said nothing.
He just stared.
"Good," the man continued.
"From today onward…"
He stepped forward slightly, his presence overwhelming.
"…you belong to us."
Training began immediately.
No rest.
No kindness.
No mercy.
While others relied on magic—
Ryan had none.
So he learned everything else.
Swordsmanship.
Stealth.
Assassination.
Tracking.
Endurance.
Every day was pain.
Every moment was survival.
He fell.
Again.
And again.
But each time—
He stood back up.
Pain became normal.
Emotion became weakness.
And slowly…
The boy disappeared.
Within two months—
He rose.
Faster than anyone expected.
Stronger than anyone believed.
Second in command.
Feared by all.
Even those older than him.
More experienced than him.
They all feared him.
Because he didn't hesitate.
He didn't feel.
He didn't fail.
They gave him a name.
A name whispered in fear.
A name that spread across the underworld like darkness itself.
Night.
A boy who had lost everything.
A shadow without a past.
A weapon without a heart.
And the beginning…
Of something far more terrifying.