The boy froze at the sight before him, panic gripping his chest. His throat went dry with fear.
But somehow, he forced himself to stay calm. Clutching the needle-shaped wooden weapon in his hand, he turned its sharp end forward and scanned his surroundings with sharp, rapid glances.
Suddenly, a sharp pain flared on the right side of his waist—as if something had bitten him. As he turned to look, he saw blood trickling from his clothes.
His fear deepened, but he steadied himself and tried to think clearly about what to do next.
His eyes fell on the burning torch ahead. He grabbed it and hurled it behind him.
A shadow formed on the wall of the house in front of him—a silhouette of a boy holding a sharp object.
It was Beloka's shadow. He knew now... the enemy would strike from behind.
Focusing on the soldier's instructions, Beloka began channeling all his concentration and energy into his weapon.
Then, he noticed another shadow on the wall. Reacting instantly, he turned around.
Pain shot through his right leg—specifically, his calf. He collapsed to his knee, unable to bear the sudden jolt.
Still on his knee, he turned back toward the direction he had originally faced and focused on the shadow, trying to channel his energy again.
Another shadow appeared, this time on his left side. He twisted on his knees and looked behind him.
Nothing. But then—sharp pain stabbed through his left leg. His body gave out completely, and his second knee slammed to the ground.
Now, Beloka was kneeling on both knees. Blood poured from his waist and legs.
Once more, he turned toward the wall, the torch now at his back. Fixing his eyes on the shadow, he began pouring energy into his weapon again.
Suddenly, he felt a warm surge rising from his heart, flowing through his arm into the wooden weapon. As the energy entered it, small cracks started to form on its surface.
The shadow began advancing toward him again. This time, Beloka didn't turn. He simply waited.
When the shadow reached the same size as his own, he thrust his weapon backward—toward the direction it had come from.
But before he could land the strike, the wooden weapon shattered into pieces.
The dweller sliced through his right arm—the one holding the weapon.
Beloka clenched his teeth in pain... yet a faint smile formed on his face.
The dweller attacked again. Beloka, watching the shadow on the wall, saw the dweller lunge toward his left arm.
But the moment contact was made, the dweller's body exploded. Flesh and innards scattered everywhere. Some even landed on Beloka.
Unseen to the dweller, Beloka had already channeled energy into his left hand. The moment the dweller touched it, the energy surged into the creature and tore him apart.
But the cost was high. With blood still pouring from his wounds, Beloka lost consciousness. The energy stored in his arm spread throughout his body.
***
Beloka could hear voices—people talking and walking nearby.
As the noise grew louder, he slowly tried to open his eyes. From the doorway of his home, he saw three soldiers standing outside, chatting.
He tried to rise from his small single bed, but his body had no strength. Gripping the edge of the bed with his right hand, he tried to lift himself—Only to realize he couldn't feel his fingers.
When he looked down at his hand, he saw a stump wrapped tightly in red cloth.
Before he could react, someone grabbed him by the neck—gently, helping him to sit up.
He looked up at the man: long, loose black hair falling to his shoulders, a short beard, brown eyes, a well-built chest beneath a purple tunic that reached to his knees, grey pants, a leather belt around his waist, and brown boots that stopped just below the knees.
The man smiled at him,
"I don't know whether you're lucky or just tough."
Beloka stared at him, confused.
"Who are you?"
"Oh, me? I'm Kelfo Zoman."
Beloka looked down, his face sinking into a mixture of sorrow and silence.
Seeing his expression, the man placed a hand on his shoulder,
"Kid, don't be sad. None of this was your fault. They're gone now—why mourn them? It's not like they're coming back. Just be glad you're still alive."
Then, in a softer tone, he added,
"But your arm... you lost it. Though—" he pointed at the severed hand lying on the ground,
"—we found it."
Beloka glanced silently in the direction the man pointed. His expression didn't change.
He saw the cloth-wrapped fingers of his lost hand and quietly said,
"What am I supposed to do with that now?"
The man picked up the severed hand, placed it in Beloka's lap,
"Keep it safe. I'll have it reattached for you."
Beloka looked at him, confused again.
"Really? When?"
"Oh, just wait a bit. Someone's on the way to do it."
Beloka believed him instantly.
After what he had seen—and done—the night before, nothing seemed impossible anymore.
The man sat down at the foot of the bed and looked at Beloka.
"So, can you tell me what happened here, kid?"
Beloka clenched his left fist. Fear was visible in his eyes—and the man noticed.
Then Beloka told him everything.
As the man listened, his eyes widened in shock.
He stood up abruptly, pulled up Beloka's tunic, and searched his waist for something—but found nothing.
With a serious tone,
"Are you telling the truth?"
"Yes."
Kelfo turned around and spoke to the soldiers standing at the door. They nodded and quickly left.
The man came back inside,
"You're coming with us."
The boy looked confused.
"Where?"
"Central City."
The boy's eyes widened in disbelief.
After a moment of silence, the boy asked, "Did I commit a crime?"
Kelfo raised an eyebrow, a confused look on his face.
"No, you didn't."
"Then why am I being taken to the Central City?"
"Because we have to report what happened here—and your bravery. After hearing the report, the king is going to summon you anyway."
There was another pause before Kelfo asked,
"Why did you say that?"
"An old man once told us… people like us only go to the Central City if we've committed a grave crime. Small crimes take you to the Second City at most."
Kelfo remained quiet for a moment,
"He's wrong. You're going there without committing any crime. I guess… bravery and power can take you there too."
The Central City was 400 kilometers to the north from where they stood. It stretched across 20 square kilometers and was surrounded by massive walls. To its far north, towering mountains loomed beyond the horizon, visible from within the city itself. Surrounding the Central City was the Second City, spanning 50 square kilometers, also enclosed by great stone walls acting as its boundary.
Kelfo stepped closer and helped the boy to his feet. Beloka stood, holding his severed right hand in his left. Without a word, the two of them stepped out of the house.
As they emerged, Beloka's eyes caught sight of a makeshift blade lying nearby—a crude weapon forged by tying an iron sheet to a wooden handle, still stained with blood. It was the same weapon he had given to a soldier last night. But the soldier's body was nowhere to be found.
Beloka stared at the weapon for a moment, then turned to Kelfo.
"How are we supposed to reach Central City? It's so far. And what about the one who was supposed to come and reattach my arm?"
Kelfo chuckled.
"No one's coming to attach your arm. I said that just to make you feel better."
A flicker of anger crossed Beloka's face, though his voice stayed flat.
"So, you lied. Then why am I still carrying this?"
Kelfo gave a small smile. "Who said anything about not attaching it? As for how we're getting there… you'll see when we reach the watchtower."
Beloka, Kelfo, and five soldiers began moving. The soldiers wore chest armor and leather pants with boots—three of them held spears, and the other two had swords sheathed at their right hips. After a short journey, they reached the watchtower.
As they stepped inside, Beloka noticed a torch hanging on the wall. Just beside it, a narrow staircase led upward.
Kelfo gestured toward one of the soldiers. The man brought a lit torch, the flames dancing wildly. Kelfo took the torch, turned to Beloka, and said, "Watch closely, boy."
He raised the burning torch and set fire to the one hanging on the wall. Then he handed the torch back to the soldier, who stepped away.
Kelfo motioned for two soldiers and Beloka to stand near the wall. The rest were ordered to move back.
Closing his eyes, Kelfo began muttering something—his lips moved, but Beloka couldn't hear a single word.
Suddenly, the fire flared up—growing brighter, louder, more intense.
A violent burst of flame shot toward them. Instinctively, Beloka raised his left arm in front of his face and shut his eyes tight.
He kept his eyes closed as the heat surged around him, until he heard distant sounds—like whispers or shifting air.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
He was still standing in a watchtower... but something was different. The place was slightly larger. The staircase near the torch was gone.
Kelfo walked calmly toward the burning torch and placed a cap over it. The flame snuffed out instantly.
They stepped out of the tower—
And what Beloka saw made his eyes widen in disbelief.