The Dark Zone—no one knew when that concept came into being.

  All that was certain was this: ever since humanity existed, it had always been there, like a shadow tied to the world’s spine.

  No sun. No moon. Not even stars.

  Only the eerie, violet-tinged glow of polar light faintly illuminated the decaying husks of long-dead creatures. The place was a void, barren and lifeless—nothing could survive there.

  Except them—blood-hungry beings, bred solely to hunt down humans.

  And yet, beneath that haunting sky, a lone teenager trudged up a gravel-strewn path. He stopped atop a hill, eyes fixed on the murky land ahead. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold seep into his lungs until a shiver ran down his spine.

  “This feeling… it’s familiar.”

  Fragments of old memories surged forward.

  As a child, he once wandered into this very place. His tiny heart nearly collapsed under the weight of crimson eyes glaring at him from the shadows—beasts lurking just a few steps away. He would have died that day, had they not appeared: the knights escorting a merchant caravan bound for Gedion.

  That was over a decade ago. Since then, no outsiders had ever returned.

  Gedion—a livestock town of roughly five thousand—had withered in isolation. Trade routes collapsed, cutting off access to metal, textiles, and medicine. Tools broke, clothes wore thin, and the sick were left without hope.

  Fear turned to despair. And despair festered.

  Villagers cried out, directing their questions at the town’s aging leader:

  “Why have we been abandoned?”

  “What’s happening beyond these hills?”

  “Can’t someone leave and find out?”

  The same questions repeated every year—never answered.

  The man they called Guide of Gedion—Xin’s grandfather—passed away just last month. For reasons unknown, he had always forbidden Xin from ever leaving the town. But before he died, he left Xin a few things. Things the boy had never seen before.

  A small notebook filled with detailed sketches and annotations of strange creatures.

  A pair of short crimson blades shaped like frozen fire.

  A black crest the size of a palm, smooth and obsidian-like.

  And a slip of paper, bearing a message in faded ink:

  “I’ll head east, to Azula.

  If the sun does not return when the seal changes color...

  Abandon your Northern Star.

  Carry our hope southward, as far as you can.

  My love will endure. Love you, Hasha.”

  Back then, Xin had paid no mind to the inheritance. He saw them only as remnants of a man now gone. He locked everything inside a wooden chest, sealed it away in the attic, and buried the thought deep in his heart—alongside the warning he’d always been told: “The outside world is full of lies and traps.”

  But as Gedion’s situation grew increasingly dire, Xin’s resolve shifted.

  Someone had to leave. Someone had to face the unknown and find a way to save them all.

  The town’s elder, Sorith—a man of trust—delivered bitter news: “No one’s willing to join you. Not a single soul.”

  Even his childhood friends urged him to stay. One of them was Tabi, his closest companion from their horse-tending days.

  “Don’t go, Xin. You know the Dark Zone’s a deathtrap.”

  “Tabi… do you remember?” Xin asked quietly. “When we were little, we dreamed of becoming knights, of exploring the unknown. I didn’t think you would be the one to stop me.”

  Tabi gave a weary chuckle. His eyes—once bright with wonder—now dulled by reality.

  He sighed, deeply, as if dragging up something buried.

  “We’re not kids anymore. Face it—why do you think no knights ever came back?”

  His voice cracked with a mix of pleading and resignation. He didn’t look at Xin, but toward the distant north, where light never reached. He clenched his fists, frustration brimming.

  “Too many died out there. Even trained warriors. And you’re just—just risking it for what?”

  Xin couldn’t answer.

  He’d asked himself the same thing during countless silent nights in his empty home.

  Am I strong enough to make it?

  Or am I deluding myself into believing I’m... special?

  Silence stretched between them. The wind howled past like a cruel reminder of their fate.

  Hope, in Gedion, had become a luxury.

  But when hope fades, does death grant mercy?

  Xin finally spoke, voice soft.

  “Your mother… she needs medicine, right?”

  Tabi froze. The truth was out.

  “Maria told you?”

  “No. I saw her at the clinic.”

  Tabi bowed his head. His voice cracked.

  “She coughs all night… hasn’t slept for days. The doctor said... she won’t survive the winter.”

  He didn’t raise his eyes. His fingers curled, trembling with helplessness.

  Xin placed a hand on his shoulder. There was no certainty in his gaze—only quiet strength. Sometimes, belief was all they had.

  “It’s still spring. We have time. I’ll find medicine, Tabi. I’ll come back in time.”

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  Was it a promise?

  No—just words. No one knew what lay ahead. They were just seventeen—an age meant for dreams, not despair. Tabi wasn’t a coward. He was just… honest. He’d chosen to stay, to protect his family, to survive however he could. Maybe, just maybe, the traders would return someday. Maybe help would come.

  But as he looked into Xin’s unwavering smile, he sighed. He knew his friend too well. Once Xin decided something, no one could stop him.

  On the day of Xin’s departure, most of Gedion stayed home. Saying goodbye meant admitting he might not return. Only three came to see him off: Sorith, Tabi, and Maria—Tabi’s sister. She brought supplies, eyes misty with unshed tears. She pulled Xin into a tight embrace.

  “If things go wrong… come back. My mom doesn’t want you risking your life for her.”

  Xin smiled gently, patting her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, sis. I’ve got fast legs. If I run fast enough, I’ll get where I need to go.”

  Sorith stood silently, squinting into the wind. At last, he stepped forward and handed Xin a small cloth pouch. Inside was all the gold the villagers had managed to scrape together. His voice was gravelly, worn by time and hardship.

  “Gedion has nothing but faith left. Take it. And go—carry our hope with you.”

  Tabi came forward, leading a sturdy black horse. The saddle was old, but serviceable. He also handed Xin a sword—wrapped in aged leather.

  “My father bought this from a knight. It’s not new, but it’s sharp. Take it—it might save your life.”

  Xin said nothing.

  He accepted the sword and the pouch but shook his head at the horse. Then he raised a hand in farewell. His face brimmed with confidence, but it was waxen—emotionless. He didn’t want to show weakness. Didn’t want them to worry.

  But in his heart, he knew—this journey would be a gamble. And if something had to be risked...

  Then let it be his own life—and nothing else.

  ---------------------------------------

  The Dark Zone stretched to the very edge of the horizon—rolling hills and shadow-cloaked forests twisted into a landscape so vast it warped one’s sense of space and time.

  Xin had been wandering this realm for over two days. He knew this only thanks to the seal his grandfather left behind—a black sigil carved with an ever-watching eye. It opened when the world “brightened,” and shut when it dimmed, marking the strange day-night cycles of this sunless place.

  He rationed enough food for six days. Each time the eye opened, he stopped to eat and rest—if only for a moment of peace in a world that offered none.

  Now he stood beside a narrow stream, eyes scanning for a place to hide. A small cave came into view—not large, but dry and well-sheltered. A gift, perhaps, by the standards of this cursed land. At the very least, it would help him evade the gaze of predators. Xin built a small fire, rolled a boulder to block the cave’s entrance, and curled up to steal a few hours of sleep.

  But rest did not last.

  Screams—dozens of them—pierced the night.

  Xin jolted upright, heart pounding. He eased the boulder aside and peeked out.

  A group of people were fleeing in terror.

  Behind them thundered monstrous shadows—beasts that tore through the mist like reapers.

  One man tripped and fell. In the same breath, a twisted creature lunged forward. Its twin black eyes shimmered with a deathly gleam—cold and final.

  Xin held his breath.

  The creatures resembled hawks, but each had two heads, one constantly scanning in every direction. Their feathers were jagged and pitch black, bristling with sharp spines. Their hooked beaks snapped open and shut, letting out guttural, otherworldly snarls—like echoes from hell itself.

  Screams erupted. Arrows flew—but shattered against their armored feathers. With a single flap of their wings, the beasts unleashed gusts strong enough to hurl men into the air.

  One by one, people fell.

  Beaks skewered flesh. Limbs were torn.

  The clearing became a feast of blood.

  It all happened so fast. Too fast. Xin couldn’t even count how many had fallen.

  His body froze—but his blood boiled. Somewhere beneath the fear, instinct screamed. His hand drifted toward the rusted sword at his side.

  Dark Zone beasts. So many… coming from everywhere.

  Suddenly—A body was flung right in front of the cave.

  Blood seeped through the cracks in the stone. Before he could look away, one of the creatures dove downward. Its eyes locked onto him. It shrieked, a piercing sound that stabbed through the skull. Then it slammed its claws into the top of the cave entrance, cracking stone and sending dust raining down.

  Xin stumbled back. His breath hitched.

  Is this how I die? Torn to pieces by this thing?

  His heart pounded.

  Terror gripped his limbs.

  But then—A memory—The glint of a knight’s blade. The moment that sword sliced clean through a monster’s tongue. The man who once saved him.

  That image burned in his mind. And with it came fire.

  Xin clenched the sword’s hilt, drew in a breath—and roared.

  “Damn it all! If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me!”

  The rock blocking the entrance shattered. The beast lunged.

  But Xin was faster.

  He darted beneath it, slipping between its massive talons. In one fluid motion, he rolled out from under the cave’s roof and slashed upward.

  Slice!—The rusted blade scraped across the creature’s leg. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough.

  The monster screeched.

  With a furious flap, its massive wings slammed against the ground, kicking up a storm of dust and stone. One direct hit would pulverize a human like an insect.

  Xin rolled aside, using the wing’s bulk as cover. Then he struck again—this time beneath the armpit. The gash wasn’t fatal, but it sapped the beast’s strength.

  Don’t face it head-on. Strike where it’s weak.

  He remembered a knight once saying that. It echoed now like a mantra.

  Xin wasn’t lying when he said he was the fastest runner in Gedion. He could outrun any horse at his peak. That speed—his one edge—was what he clung to now. The one thing his body trusted even when his mind screamed.

  It’ll be fine!

  He repeated the words like a prayer. Then he leapt. Grabbing one of the jagged spines on the beast’s body, he pulled himself upward. The sword flashed again and again, carving shallow cuts across its back.

  Black ichor burst forth in thick sprays. The monster shrieked in agony, thrashing, flapping, trying to break free. Both heads twisted around, eyes blazing, and pecked wildly.

  Xin ducked, dodged, and scrambled upward.

  I have to end this now. If it flies any higher, I’m dead.

  He planted one foot on the wing, then launched himself toward its neck. One final strike—aimed straight for the left head’s nape.

  “Die!”

  The sword plunged deep. The beast let out a deafening shriek. Dark blood exploded into the air, raining down like death.

  For a second, Xin felt victory—until pain erupted in his shoulder.

  “Agh—!”

  One of the creature’s heads had clamped down, biting deep. Agony seared through his nerves. His grip weakened. He had no choice but to let go. The world spun. Wind screamed past his ears.

  The beast vanished into the dark sky above.

  Xin, sword still in hand, plummeted into the shadows below.

  ---------------------------------------

  Time blurred.

  Xin slowly came back to himself, though the world around him was a haze. He felt his body being dragged—slowly, clumsily—along the ground. His lower back throbbed so badly he couldn't even sit up.

  He lifted a shaky hand to his chest... His heart was still beating.

  I... survived?

  “Who... who's there?” he rasped.

  The dragging stopped. A low grunt answered, followed by approaching footsteps. Rough fingers pried open one of Xin’s eyelids. His blurred vision caught the face of a man, hovering above.

  “Still breathing, huh?”

  The man looked young, maybe just a few years older than Xin. He had a sharp, rugged face with balanced features, his skin pale and clean despite the filth of the Dark Zone. Short tufts of soft, blue-tinged hair framed his face, and a tail of it brushed lazily over one shoulder. His eyes were steady and clear—but behind them flickered a subtle hint of amusement, the kind one reserved for pitiful things clinging to life.

  Xin narrowed his eyes at the stranger. He tried to move, to sit up—but the pain from his shoulder flared violently, slamming him back down with a grunt.

  “Don’t bother,” the man said, amused. “Your injuries are nasty. You’re lucky you’re not dead yet.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  Xin was sprawled out on a plank of rough wood, his body an absolute mess. Blood and mud smeared every inch of him. His clothes—what little remained of them—hung in tatters. One of his shoes was gone, the other barely hanging on. But worst of all was the deep wound on his shoulder. It was still bleeding, slow but steady.

  The man glanced forward as he resumed pulling the plank.

  “We’re headed for Seraing. Hopefully someone there knows how to patch you up.”

  Seraing… Xin’s mind jolted awake at the name. His bag. It was still in the cave. He couldn't lose it. He swallowed dryly, his voice barely audible.

  “Please… the cave… I need to go back. My stuff… it’s still there.”

  The stranger stopped again. He tilted his head, one hand rubbing his forehead like he was weighing the request.

  A long pause.

  Then he sighed.

  “Nope. Not happening. You go back in this state, and you’re a dead man.”

  “Please…” Xin whispered again.

  But before he could finish…

  Smack!—A light tap struck the side of his head.

  Everything went dark.

  “Quit whining,” the man muttered. “You’d better sleep.”