The forest breathed.
Mist curled around the roots of ancient cedars, and wind whispered through leaves that had seen more winters than any human memory could hold. Somewhere far away, a river sang softly — the same song it had sung since the first dawn.
And there, amidst the silence of a world too old to care, stood a boy.
His name was Yonggi (용기) — "Courage."
Fifteen summers old, though his eyes carried the quiet stillness of someone far older. A strip of bark held his long black hair in place, and around his neck hung a small shard of obsidian, bound in thread. It was the only relic left of his tribe — the Hinokami (火の神 — Fire Gods), the keepers of the sacred flame.
"The world changes with the seasons," his mother had once whispered to him beside their dying hearth.
"When the spring of life fades... only those with courage can call the next dawn."
He still remembered her voice — soft, warm, fading beneath the roar of flames and the screams of that final night.
Now, only ashes remained.
The Hinokami Village — gone. The scent of smoke still lingered on the soil. Broken idols lay half-buried beneath the mud, their carved faces cracked and blind.
Yonggi knelt before one — a small stone figure of Hi-no-Kami, the spirit of fire. Rain gathered in its hollow eyes like tears.
"Is this what you meant, Mother?" he whispered.
"That courage means walking alone?"
No answer came.
Only the wind.
He pressed his palm to the earth. It was cold — lifeless. But then, a faint warmth pulsed beneath his hand. Once. Twice.
Like a heartbeat.
The shard around his neck began to glow — faint red, then bright as flame.
Yonggi's breath caught.
From deep below the soil, something stirred — ancient and immense, older than the mountains, older than men.
A voice echoed in the stillness, soft and distant — like the crackle of embers.
「오래 기다렸다, 용기야…」 ("I've waited a long time, Yonggi…")
His eyes widened.
He turned — but there was no one. Only the mist, shifting under the moonlight.
Then the air rippled.
A shape took form — a woman, woven from light and petals, her hair flowing like fire under water. Her eyes glimmered gold — not of this world.
"Who are you?" Yonggi whispered.
"A memory," she said, her voice like the wind before dawn. "And a promise long forgotten."
The rain stopped.
Every droplet hung suspended in the air, glinting like crystals. The forest held its breath.
The woman raised her hand and touched his forehead with one finger — warm, searing, alive.
"The seasons have broken," she murmured. "Winter lingers where spring should rise. Find the Four Veins of Mana (マナの四脈)… and the world will bloom again."
Light exploded.
Yonggi gasped as visions flooded his mind — oceans burning beneath a crimson sky, mountains weeping molten tears, and a single golden tree stretching high enough to pierce the clouds.
Then — silence.
The light vanished. The woman was gone. Only the faint warmth in his chest remained, pulsing with the rhythm of the earth itself.
He looked up. The storm had cleared. The first rays of dawn bled over the horizon, painting the forest gold.
"Four veins…" Yonggi breathed. "Then I'll find them. Even if I have to walk through every season of this world."
He stood, clutching the glowing shard in his hand.
Somewhere, the river's song changed — from sorrow to hope.
And so, under the newborn light of dawn, the boy named Courage took his first step toward legend.