The dawn after death always leaves a bitterness sharper than the usual light.
Early the next morning, Shun, Myria, and Mye quietly cleaned the house of Elder Arthur. Not a single complaint was uttered; only the creaking of wooden floors and the whistle of wind through the old windows filled the air. Once they had tidied up what remained, they conducted his funeral—a modest one, yet imbued with genuine respect.
Villagers gathered at a distance, silently observing. No one dared to come close. In their eyes, the Arthur family had long been cursed, and his death only seemed to reinforce that blind belief. They feared that approaching might spread the supposed curse to their own families. Shun noticed their wary glances and gave only a faint, cold smile:
- "No need for you to come. He doesn't need empty pity…"
As the final mound of earth covered the grave, Shun clenched his fists, bowing his head, whispering:
-"Rest in peace, Elder Arthur. I ask to borrow your house for one more week… to investigate the truth of this place."
After the funeral, the group set to work rebuilding the village. Shun took command, Myria assisted, and Mye learned to control her innate powers. Step by step, the dark village began to see new light.
Mye used her pure power to filter and purify the water—once tainted by the black streams from the deep forest. Myria focused on repairing the electrical system, rewiring the old lines. Shun oversaw everything, directing the blacksmiths to construct a sharp iron fence around the village. This fence was electrified, forming an artificial barrier—both physical and electrical—so even the most ferocious tigers hesitated to approach.
In just one day, a boundary between life and death took shape. The villagers began to look at Shun and his team differently—part astonished, part cautious—as if unsure whether to trust them or continue fearing them.
Night fell. The group returned to Arthur's old house. Before dinner, Shun quietly stepped outside, sitting beneath the ancient banyan tree in the middle of the village. The night wind stirred the leaves gently, and moonlight fell, reflecting Shun's contemplative eyes.
He said nothing, silently staring at the sky, countless questions rising in his mind:
What truly lurks within that forest?
Who has been manipulating the tigers?
And… did Elder Arthur suffer that tragedy merely by coincidence… or was it the hand of something far greater?
The distant glow of lanterns from the village cast Shun's face in half-light, half-shadow. In that moment of silence, he knew one thing clearly: his journey in this village had only just begun.
After the simple dinner in Elder Arthur's cold, austere house, Shun walked with Myria and Mye around the village. The pale moon hung high, its silver light casting their silent shadows along the cracked dirt path. In the chilly night breeze, Shun listened as Myria began to tell her life story—a tale like a rusted blade cutting deep into the darkness.
Myria had once been a member of the Alcwart family, a clan renowned across the East, where every prophecy had never once failed. Some called them gods, others scorned them as demons. But Myria knew the truth better than anyone: that power came at a cost. Her ancestors had sacrificed their own lifespans to pass down their mystical abilities to future generations.
Yet, when her grandfather—the last pillar of the family—passed away, the corrupt royal court did not hesitate. They sent soldiers to crush the Alcwart family, forcing them to kneel and become instruments of a decayed throne.
Men were sent to the battlefield, dying in the cold without ever seeing their wives or children for the last time. Women were forced into vile tasks, from slavery to serving as "entertainment" for the noble officials.
As a child, Myria had watched her parents turned into tools, treated worse than animals. Hatred ignited and surged within her heart. She cursed the king—the cruel, merciless ruler—and swore, one dark night:
-"They will die. Not easily. They will die in pain, just as they inflicted pain upon my family!"-
That rage forged Myria into a flame of defiance. Once, she had snuck into the royal palace and blown up an entire supply warehouse—a reckless, desperate act.
Myria lifted her gaze to the sky, her voice trembling slightly as if mingling with the night wind. Shun remained silent. He understood clearly that before him was not merely a "legendary witch" as the world spoke—but a woman scarred by history, fueled by vengeance, and surviving on a pain that would never fade.
Shun sat beside her, placing a hand on Myria's shoulder, trying to comfort her. Mye also gently held Shun's hand, but Myria… her face remained impassive, as if she had long been accustomed to pain, all emotions seemingly turned to stone.
Shun gazed up at the night sky, where the silver moonlight shone on the hair of all three of them:
- "I will become stronger… to protect everyone. I promise to use everything I have to protect you both!"
Mye smiled, and even Myria, despite her cold expression, let out a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
- "You haven't even taken care of yourself yet, and you already want to protect someone?" – Myria teased, her voice carrying a subtle warmth.
They laughed together, the moonlight shimmering over the scenery, creating a rare moment of peace in a world full of suffering.
But in the darkness, deep within the nearby forest, a pair of eyes blazed brightly, piercing through the shadows to watch all three of them. A man sat atop a stone throne, imposing and cold. He stroked the massive tiger beside him, his gaze like the predatory light of a pack of hunters in the pitch-black night:
- "Interesting… let's see who will win between a legendary witch and a true god…"
The atmosphere was silent, the threat lingering in every gust of wind, foreshadowing a coming storm where the fate of the three would be tested to the very edge of death.