Dawn seemed reluctant to descend upon the village that morning. The sky hung pale, cold, and unsettled—as if even the sun sensed something strange waiting on the horizon.
When Rion stepped into the village square, he found a small crowd gathered, their whispers rippling with tension and wide-eyed wonder.
At the center stood the Magic Knight Commander, flanked by two captains.
Before them stood Alen—struggling to balance the sudden weight of borrowed glory.
And then something else stirred in Rion's mind.
A night from ten years ago surged back without warning, the gleam of the Commander's armor brushing against wounds he thought had long scarred over.
---
That Night
Smoke had blanketed the sky, twisting upward like dark serpents. Flames leapt across rooftops, devouring everything in frenzied hunger. It wasn't a natural fire—not human either.
It was an Admin's doing.
An Admin and his followers had been meeting secretly in the village. When their location was exposed, the Commander and his men stormed in. What followed was chaos—a brutal clash between two forces neither side had prepared for.
The Admin stood atop the shattered hull of a collapsed house, flames dancing at his gesture like living creatures. His laughter was sharp as metal scraping stone, and without fear or hesitation he crossed blades with the Commander.
Little Rion had run through the burning streets with the rest of the villagers, his family gripping his hands as explosions thundered around them.
Through the smoke, the Commander advanced—cutting through darkness like an apparition. Blue light shimmered along the edge of his sword: cold, steady, unyielding.
A force meant to counter fire's madness.
"You still breathe, Knight?" the Admin mocked, spinning a vortex of fire around himself.
The Commander didn't answer. His silence struck harder than any spell.
With a sharp motion, the Admin raised his hand. A colossal spear of flame erupted into existence and shot toward the Commander.
But just then, a broken beam rolled beneath the Admin's foot—his aim skewed.
And that stray spear hurtled straight toward—
Rion.
The instant the blazing light filled his vision, it felt as though the world was ending. The air drained from his lungs. Time froze.
Then the Commander lunged.
He wrapped his arms around Rion and turned, his back taking the full impact.
The spear exploded, tearing his coat apart in a burst of searing light.
But his arms remained locked around the boy—unmoving, unwavering.
The Admin stepped back, part surprise, part fury twisting his face.
"I've wasted enough time… We'll finish this later, Knight."
Fire spiraled around him and his followers, and in the next moment they vanished.
That was the night Rion first understood—
The Magic Knight Commander had saved his life.
And that night, a vow had taken root inside him—
One day, somehow… he would end the Admins.
---
Now
The memory dissolved. When the Commander's gaze met his, time seemed to bend, ever so slightly.
From behind the crowd, two hooded strangers murmured,
"We should move. Now, Joker."
Their faces were hidden—identities wrapped in shadow.
As they turned to leave, one of them brushed against Rion's shoulder.
"My apologies," he said quietly.
Then he leaned close, his voice a whisper meant only for Rion:
"We'll meet again."
Rion froze.
—How did they know his name?
But the strangers slipped into the crowd before he could speak.
A cold current crawled beneath his feet—like the tremor of an unseen threat.
---
Back Home
When Rion returned, the Commander had just finished speaking with Alen.
"We're taking your Alen with us," the Commander said in his deep, steady voice.
"He carries great potential. For the first time in years, our kingdom has found a mage with the traits of a Supreme Grade. With training, he may one day stand against the Admins."
Rion stepped forward, his voice firm despite the storm inside him.
"Take me with you too. I want to fight the Admins."
Alen chuckled—a sharp, dismissive sound.
"You? You don't even have strength. You're scared of everything. A Knight? You?"
He snorted. "Ridiculous."
Around them, villagers whispered:
"Rion? He can't do anything…"
"He wants to be a Knight?"
"He trembles even when he's scared…"
Mockery. Shame. Cruel laughter.
Each word pressed into Rion's chest until his hands shook and his eyes burned.
The Commander stepped toward him, calm as morning steel.
"Do not break, young one. You're sixteen. Time is still yours.
If you truly wish for strength, train for two years.
Then come to the Magic Knight entrance trials.
Prove yourself worthy."
A fragile spark ignited inside Rion—then blossomed into something brighter, fiercer.
"I will," he whispered, each word carrying the weight of a lifetime.
"One day… I'll become the Magic Knight Commander."
A faint, enigmatic smile touched the Commander's lips.
"Then I shall wait for you, young warrior."
And with Alen, they left the village behind.
Rion watched their fading shadows until they disappeared.
Something inside him stirred awake—something that whispered:
If fate decrees that a boy without power can never become Magic Knight Commander…
Then I will defy fate itself.
The ones laughing today will honor my name.
Alen's arrogance will shatter.
This is no dream—this is my vow.
---
The Next Day — Deep in the Forest
It was the first day of Rion's training.
But the forest felt wrong. Too quiet.
The towering trees strangled the sunlight, letting only thin, eerie slivers touch the ground.
The air itself felt ancient—like the halted breath of a forgotten god.
Rion stood on a thick root, sweat clinging to his hair.
"One more… one more round…"
He whispered to himself.
He would not be weak—never again.
A distant bird call echoed.
Something growled from within the leaves—something unseen, something old.
A whisper curled through his mind:
Something lives in this forest… something ancient…
Then—
A dry twig snapped behind him.
Rion froze.
A strange scent drifted through the air—damp, metallic…
Like fresh blood.
The light around him shifted, turning faintly red.
Two glowing eyes flared inside the undergrowth—
Burning like embers.
This was no ordinary beast.
A massive Shadowfang Beast emerged, its form rippling like mist, its body shedding coils of smoke—half-real, half-nightmare.
Its growl tore the forest's silence apart.
Rion saw it again in his mind—the villagers laughing, calling him weak.
He gritted his teeth.
"Not this time… I'll fight till the end."
He charged, clashing with the monstrous shadow.
But after only moments, he knew—he could not win.
He turned and ran.
Roots whipped at his feet.
He stumbled, fell—
The beast drew closer, step by heavy step.
"No… no… I'm going to die…"
His heartbeat hammered in his ears like metal striking metal.
There was no escape.
The creature's claws glinted—cold, hungry—ready to close around his throat.
The shadow lunged.
Everything slowed.
Rion's final thought drifted through him—
"Is this… the end?"
Then—
TONG—!
A metallic ring shattered the air.
A streak of white light flashed between him and the beast.
Before Rion could even blink, the creature's head twisted grotesquely—and its corpse crashed to the ground a second later.
The light faded.
A tall, slender young man stood there, sword in hand.
Its edge still hissed with fading smoke.
In a calm, composed voice, he said,
"Well… that was a very messy way to die."
Rion stared, stunned.
"Wh-who are you?"
The man slid his sword into its sheath with a smooth, effortless motion and smiled lightly.
"My name is Oliver Darren."