Far away, in the northern continent, chaos had erupted.
"I swear upon the angels, I will become the punishment for you filthy demons!"
The boy struggled, trying to break free from the iron chains binding his hands.
His sharp eyes glared at the demons laughing before him. Teeth clenched, blood ran down into his eyes.
"And what can you possibly do, boy?" one of the demons mocked, laughing cruelly.
He walked forward and grabbed the boy's face roughly. "Tell me, what could you possibly do to us?"
The boy's face burned with rage, veins bulging on his temples. He spat. "Get your ugly face out of my sight, you filthy demon."
The demon froze, wiping the spit from his cheek. His fist flew, slamming brutally into the boy's face.
"Who do you think you are, huh, brat!?" He yanked the boy's hair violently. "How dare you… how dare you spit in my face!?"
The boy vomited blood after a hard kick to his stomach. His nose dripped red, tears streaming down.
"Better finish him off quickly," another demon muttered—the one sitting atop the lifeless body of the boy's father.
The first demon snorted. "Yeah, I know!" He drew a dagger from his belt, its blade gleaming under the moonlight.
He tightened his grip on the weapon, raising it high, ready to plunge it into the boy's chest.
But before the dagger could land, his hand shattered—struck by something swift and powerful.
All the demons froze, their laughter replaced with confusion. The demon closest to the boy screamed in agony, blood dripping onto the floor.
Their eyes darted around, searching for the attacker. Through the smoke and fire, a silhouette emerged.
A figure stepped out from the thick haze, dragging a massive sword across the ground. His steel armor was stained with blood, as was the blade.
"Who is that?" one demon whispered. The others shook their heads. The armored figure walked forward slowly, step by step.
They grew tense, hands reaching for their weapons.
"It's pointless," a thunderous voice echoed, halting them in their tracks.
The demons swallowed hard, dread filling their eyes. One of them still dared to grip his weapon.
The figure noticed. Before the demon could even draw, his head was cleaved clean off.
The others stood frozen, staring at their fallen comrade. Slowly, their gazes turned toward the steel giant.
"Who are you? What do you want?" one demon stammered, sweat pouring down his face.
"Who gave you permission to speak?" the figure's voice boomed. In an instant, he vanished.
Reappearing in their midst, he drove his sword through the mouth of the demon who had spoken. The massive blade skewered him to the ground.
"Did I permit you to speak?" The figure pressed down harder, making the demon writhe helplessly.
"P-please…"
The knight paid no heed. He pushed harder, then wrenched the blade sideways, ripping through the demon's skull.
Another demon roared and charged, swinging his sword. The knight spun, blocked, and slammed his fist into the demon's stomach.
The impact left the demon doubled over, gasping for air.
The armored figure seized his face, lifted him high, and crushed him with a merciless grip.
Another demon tried stabbing his heart with a dagger—but the blade shattered against the steel armor. His eyes widened in terror.
The knight grabbed the demon by the neck, lifting him to eye level. His grip tightened until the head burst apart, leaving only a body without a skull.
It was over. No demon remained alive. The figure turned back to the boy, raising his sword and slicing the chains that bound him.
The knight knelt on the blood-soaked ground, studying the child's trembling face.
"Tell me, boy, what is your name?"
The boy did not answer. He only wept, mourning his slaughtered family.
A heavy hand rested on his shoulder, gently pulling him to face the knight. A few pats followed.
"Listen well, boy. I know you feel loss, but more will suffer the same if you do not tell me your name."
The knight pressed again, firm yet calm. "I will speak plainly. Are you the one called Dieora?"
The boy's head shot up, eyes wide in shock. Confusion gripped him. How could a stranger know his name?
"How… how do you know my name?"
"Is that the Krist Zhypon you wear around your neck?" the knight countered, ignoring his question.
"You knew my name… and now you know of this ancient crystal? Tell me, who are you really?" the boy demanded, fists clenched.
But the knight merely folded his arms, exhaling heavily.
"If you will not answer, then I will treat you as an enemy." The boy lowered into a fighting stance.
Suddenly, his necklace shone, radiating a calming light.
"There is no need for me to explain further." The knight lifted his sword and turned to leave.
"Wait! You haven't answered me!"
"I am not obliged to answer you." His steps never faltered.
His fingers wove a sigil in the air, and a vast magic circle appeared beneath the boy's feet.
"What are you doing!?" Dieora tried to escape, but froze at the knight's next words.
"You would be wise not to step outside the circle." Flames erupted, encircling him.
"I will send you where you truly belong. Remember your fate, boy. Carry the destiny laid upon you for this world."
The boy shook his head, bewildered.
"Please, dispel this circle! If you truly intend to kill me, at least let me bury my family first."
The plea made the knight pause. He turned and gazed at the child.
"…I will do it for you." With a snap of his fingers, a small parchment appeared before the boy.
The flames dwindled, replaced by a brilliant crimson glow. In the next instant, Dieora vanished.
"May the gods of fortune watch over you, boy."
***
A heavy downpour greeted Dieora as he opened his eyes, rain soaking him to the bone.
"I… I'm still alive?"
The parchment reappeared. At first blank, then words flared across its surface in fiery red, sparking as they moved.
*"Do not worry about your family. I have brought them to the church in this city, where they will be given proper burial."*
Dieora's eyes widened. He wanted to doubt—but the fact he was still breathing proved the knight spoke truth.
The words faded, replaced with new ones.
*"You are now in the territory of the Luiotra Magic Academy. Present this parchment to the authorities there. Tell them you were sent by someone."*
Dieora realized one thing—he didn't even know the knight's name. How could he explain who sent him?
Thunder cracked above, lightning briefly illuminating a massive structure ahead.
Dieora assumed it was the academy the knight had spoken of. Against the storm's fury, he pushed forward.
At the academy's gates, his jaw dropped at their towering size. He knocked three times.
No answer.
He knocked again, this time shouting over the howling wind.
His instincts flared. Something fast was coming. He leapt aside as three daggers embedded themselves in the ground.
"Who's there?" a voice called from atop the gates. A figure leapt down, landing with perfect grace.
"No answer?" the voice pressed, softer this time—almost melodic, like a girl's.
She stepped forward, holding three daggers in her left hand. Dieora stiffened, wary.
The storm ripped her cloak aside, revealing long silver hair and piercing blue eyes.
She… she was a girl.