The man stood alone in the middle of the battlefield.
His body was drenched in blood—some of it his, but most of it belonging to those who had fallen around him. Broken weapons lay scattered across the ground. Fallen soldiers covered the earth, and the once-proud battlefield had become a silent sea of death.
Yet somehow, he remained standing.
Amidst all that darkness, he looked like a lone star that refused to fade.
Or perhaps like the full moon standing proudly against an endless night sky.
There was something unnatural about his presence.
His aura was overwhelming—powerful enough to make seasoned soldiers instinctively tense their bodies and reach for their weapons. Yet beneath that terrifying strength was an inexplicable calm.
He did not look angry.
He did not look excited.
He simply stood there.
And strangely enough, those who looked at him felt a sense of peace.
As though, despite everything that had happened on the battlefield, nothing could possibly reach them while that man stood there.
Prince Aeron struggled to push himself upright.
Pain shot through his battered body.
He clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand, refusing to show weakness in front of his remaining soldiers. His sword trembled in his hand as he raised his head and stared at the mysterious warrior.
"...Who are you?"
His voice was strained.
The stranger slowly turned his head.
Crimson eyes met Aeron's gaze.
"You shouldn't stand."
His voice was calm.
"Your wounds are far worse than they appear."
Before Aeron could respond—
"Brother!"
Princess Elara rushed past him.
She dropped to her knees beside Aeron, her hands trembling as she immediately began casting healing magic.
Warm light surrounded her palms.
But the wounds were too severe.
Blood continued to seep through Aeron's clothes.
Elara's breathing became frantic.
"No... no, please..."
Her hands shook harder.
Tears began falling freely from her eyes, disappearing into the blood-soaked ground.
"Please work..."
Aeron looked at his sister.
"Elara..."
She ignored him.
She couldn't.
He was the only family she had left.
She couldn't lose him.
Not here.
Not after everything.
The stranger watched silently for a moment.
Then he stepped forward.
Elara looked up.
Before she could say anything, the stranger knelt beside Aeron.
He placed one hand over Aeron's wounds.
A faint crimson light spread from his palm.
There was no complicated spell.
No chant.
No magical circle.
No incantation.
Just a simple touch.
And then—
The wounds disappeared.
Completely.
The deep cuts vanished.
The bruises faded.
Even the blood that had stained Aeron's clothes seemed almost meaningless now.
It was as though his injuries had never existed.
Elara froze.
Aeron froze.
The soldiers surrounding them froze.
Nobody spoke.
They simply stared.
Healing magic of this level didn't exist.
Not yet.
Even the greatest healers in the kingdom would have struggled to save Aeron from wounds like these.
But this stranger had healed him as easily as someone might wipe dust from a table.
One soldier slowly lowered his weapon.
Another stared at his own hands as though questioning everything he had ever learned about magic.
Even the veterans who had survived countless battles had never witnessed anything like this.
Elara slowly rose to her feet.
She looked at the stranger with disbelief before a warm smile finally appeared on her face.
"Thank you, sir."
The stranger immediately looked away.
"It's alright."
For the first time, his calm expression cracked.
A faint blush appeared across his cheeks.
He shifted his gaze toward the battlefield, clearly trying to avoid looking at Elara.
Aeron noticed.
So did several of the soldiers.
But none of them dared comment.
A soldier eventually stepped forward.
"We should get going, my prince."
Aeron remained silent for a moment.
He looked down at his body.
There wasn't even a trace of pain left.
Then he looked back at the stranger.
"Yes."
He sheathed his sword.
Elara turned toward the stranger.
"You should come with us."
The soldier immediately stepped forward.
"We can't allow a stranger to accompany us, Princess."
Elara looked at him.
"He isn't a stranger."
She glanced toward the battlefield.
"He saved our lives."
The soldier opened his mouth to argue.
But Aeron spoke first.
"It's alright."
Everyone turned toward him.
"He can come."
The soldier lowered his head.
"As you command."
The group began preparing to leave.
Aeron approached the stranger.
"You know how to ride a horse?"
The stranger looked at him.
"...No."
Silence.
Every soldier nearby stared at him.
Even Elara looked surprised.
Aeron blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"How can you not know how to ride a horse?"
His disbelief was genuine.
In this world, horses weren't some luxury.
They were a necessity.
A warrior who possessed strength like this should surely know how to ride one.
The stranger remained quiet.
Then he lowered his eyes.
"I was a slave."
The words were simple.
But they struck the group harder than any battle cry could have.
The soldiers fell silent.
Elara's smile disappeared.
Aeron stared at the stranger, suddenly unable to find the words to respond.
For the first time, the terrifying warrior standing before them no longer looked like an untouchable figure from a legend.
He simply looked like a young man who had spent his life being denied things everyone else considered ordinary.
A horse.
Freedom.
A normal childhood.
Perhaps even a name.
Aeron's expression softened.
He looked toward one of the soldiers.
"Prepare another horse."
The soldier hesitated.
"My prince..."
"Prepare one."
"...Yes, Your Highness."
Elara quietly stepped toward Nova.
"You can ride with me."
Nova's crimson eyes widened.
His face immediately turned red again.
"I..."
Elara smiled.
"It's only a horse."
For a moment, Nova said nothing.
Then he nodded.
"...Alright."
And so, the mysterious warrior who had walked alone through an entire battlefield began his journey with the royal family.
None of them knew it yet.
But the man they had just invited into their lives would one day become a name feared across kingdoms.
A name that would be carved into history.
Nova.