Eight centuries ago, a single man bent the entire continent to his will.
His hair gleamed like polished steel, and his eyes—both iris and pupil—shone like molten silver.
Wherever his feet trod, destruction followed, until every tongue came to call him "Silver Shadow."
Ever since then, silver hair and silver eyes ceased to be mere traits… and became a curse.
Not light gray, nor dark—but a mix between them: a mark of doom whispered in fear.
Parents prayed their children would never be born bearing that mark.
Some hid, abandoned, or even killed those born with one or both signs.
Over the centuries, the dread faded, and the myth turned into old folktales.
But in certain hearts, the terror remained—ready to ignite at a single glance.
Tamer had never believed in such superstitions.
Yet now, standing before those silver eyes—exhausted, drained—he felt an undeniable truth:
The boy before him was dangerous.
Not because of his eyes…
But because power radiated from him like heat from molten metal.
*This kid is strong. Exceptionally strong. If he was bandits—I'd already be dead.*
Tamer thought.
*I'll try peace… maybe speak in Onitha.*
Tamer called out loudly: "Ah, excuse me—"
The boy cut him off, his voice sharp as a blade: "Why did you raise your knife against Sonia?"
Those silver eyes locked onto Tamer, and his soul shuddered with cold dread.
Still dizzy, he raised a calming hand and stepped back.
*So… he speaks Nita.*
Tamer kept his tone gentle: "I didn't mean to hurt her. I thought something dangerous was here."
"There's no proof of that."
The boy's gaze never wavered.
"I swear—my knife was already in my hand when I stepped out. She started crying. I panicked. I was just checking the area."
Silence fell.
"Is that true, Sonia?" asked the boy—Boris—without turning away from Tamer.
Sonia lowered her eyes. She said nothing.
Boris focused back on Tamer, then.
"I see…" Boris finally said, and relaxed his posture.
The suffocating pressure around him vanished instantly, as if it had never existed.
Tamer breathed a sigh of relief—then froze.
For second, his pupils widening slightly…
Then.. back to normal.
*He doesn't have bad intentions…* Tamer sighed softly and returned to his composure.
*His pupils just turned black? TRAITUM? Genetic Inversion? And that False Pressure… What is this boy?*
"I also apologize for any misunderstanding," Tamer replied, reaching to retrieve the dagger that had fallen from his hand.
"It's fine," Boris said, beginning to dress himself again. Sonia quietly gathered her belongings.
Tamer tried a friendly tone: "I'm with a caravan heading to Entdeckt. I was scouting the area for monsters or bandits."
"We're also going there. And we're not bandits."
"Yes… sorry again," Tamer said, sweat pricking his brow.
Watching Sonia collect her things, he asked, "Would you two like to travel with us?"
Boris looked at Sonia. She glanced at him and gave a slight nod. He hesitated, then said: "That might be good, Mr…"
"Tamer," he clarified gently.
Tamer studied Boris in silence.
*If he wanted to kill me, he'd have done it after that strike. My instincts scream that.*
"Thank you, Mr. Tamer," Boris said, bowing slightly—now utterly different from the person he'd been moments before.
"You're Boris, right?"
"Yes… So, what's the price?"
"The price?"
"The price for joining you. Not many offer help for free."
"You're right," Tamer smiled faintly. "But sometimes help is given with no return expected. Our caravan isn't far—we have food and water. If you need safety, we can provide it."
Boris thought.
*If I were alone, I'd be fine… But for Sonia… it'll be safer with a caravan.*
*And if danger comes—I'll protect her.*
"Alright," he said.
Then, with iron-cold detachment and eyes piercing through Tamer: "But if you try *anything*—"
The pressure crashed down like lightning.
"—I'll cut off the heads of everyone in your caravan."
Pressure. Silence. Cold.
Tamer swallowed hard, his hand pressed to his chest. "No, we won't… I swear by the Creator!"
Boris fell silent for a moment.
He glanced at Sonia, who looked visibly shaken.
He sighed. "Alright, thank you for taking us in."
His expression shifted to a gentle smile—so sudden that Tamer blinked in astonishment.
"I didn't expect this…" Tamer murmured, feeling both relieved and disturbed.
Boris and Sonia quickly finished packing.
"I advise you to return to your caravan," Boris said, adjusting his gear.
"Why—?" Tamer began, then stopped.
A howl ripped through the air.
Not just any howl—but deeper, stronger, far deadlier.
*Bloody Wolf!* Tamer's mind screamed.
He wasted no breath. Despite the dizziness and throbbing in his head, he bolted toward the caravan.
Boris and Sonia watched as Tamer stumbled.
Sonia asked in Nita: "Brother Boris… won't you help them?"
Boris's face remained unreadable beneath his black shawl, edged with golden embroidery.
He watched Tamer stagger.
*Bloody Wolves… without a guard unit or a group of Delta2 ranks adventurers…*
*If it's just one, Tamer might handle it—but a pack…*
It wasn't his concern. And yet…
*I can't let them die—especially since Tamer's current weakness is my fault.*
"I'll see," Boris decided aloud. "If they can't win, I'll step in."
Sonia offered a faint smile. *Solid on the outside… kind within.*
"You just called me 'Brother'."
Boris noted, referring to her earlier use of the term in Onitha.
"Oh… my tongue slipped. Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize, I don't blame you."
Sonia took his scarred hand in hers, wordlessly.
He nodded, his eyes still fixed on Tamer.
"Find a safe spot, far away. If anything happens, shout my name. I'll be there in five seconds."
She obeyed and retreated to a thick-branched tree.
"Don't come out until I call you."
"Yes."
Boris adjusted his shawl and gloves, then moved forward calmly.
She hid—watching—confident Boris would act the moment it was right.
***
Moments before Tamer met Boris and Sonia…
Anton cautiously patrolled the area, carrying out Tamer's orders.
He moved lightly—using his exceptional speed.
Pink wool covered his arms, though his hands remained human.
His legs resembled a human's—but internally blended human muscle with reinforced Cebuan strength.
The wind played with the pink wool atop his head, mingling with his horns.
His animal-like nose caught scents mixed into the crisp, pure oxygen around him.
His yellow eyes, with horizontally stretched rectangular pupils, scanned the horizon with steady focus—
benefiting from an unusually wide field of vision.
His drooping, sheep-like ears twitched like living radars, catching any sound that might signal approaching danger.
Anton wasn't pure Cebuan—he was a hybrid.
Though clear Cebuan traits marked his appearance,
his human lineage compensated for the species' usual weaknesses.
*I don't think there's trouble in this area…*
He muttered, halting to inspect his surroundings.
Cebuan-Sheep vision was typically poor or shallow—
But that didn't apply to those bearing balancing human blood.
*Wh—?!* Suddenly, his instincts flared with unmistakable danger.
In one motion, he reached for one of the weapons at his waist—
two short sticks joined by a chain, known as "nunchaku"
"Gah!"
A wolf—four or five times larger than an ordinary one—lunged.
Its eyes glowed crimson, its body wreathed in a red aura resembling dust speckled with shimmering red particles—
Kora energy.
Its presence came with a faint grinding sound, like crystalline dust crushed under an invisible weight.
A quiet hum, a crystalline creak appearing and vanishing like held breaths—
not loud, but a whisper scratching the edge of silence.
It was the sound of ancient Kora particles colliding with air molecules.
The beast savagely attacked the chain.
Metal clashed against fangs.
Anton raised the nunchaku chain—using it as a shield against the Bloody Wolf.
He was thrown to the ground, the Bloody Wolf looming over him, fangs bared to sink into his flesh.
*Insane speed…*
*I didn't sense it until it was too late—its speed overwhelmed all my senses…*
*Kora energy around it… Is this monster Delta2 rank?*
Anton thought rapidly while resisting beneath the wolf.
He channeled Kora into his body—a red mark flared on his leg.
He drove his knee into its belly, then kicked the Bloody Wolf with all his might, sending it flying.
He sprang up instantly, regaining his balance.
His hand lit up with yellow energy resembling glowing gas.
With skilled, fluid hand and finger movements—even while still holding the nunchaku—he activated Koshin energy, which wrapped his arms in yellow light.
A soft, pulsing chime resonated through the air—a rippling vibration coiling like the atmosphere itself trembling with each pulse.
Every wave pulsed with force, spreading in luminous ripples with each Koshin motion.
The wolf regained balance and lunged again.
But this time—Anton was ready.
With expert precision, he struck the wolf's jaw first.
Then, without giving it a chance to recover, unleashed a rapid sequence of hand techniques.
He wrapped his weapons in Koshin energy before hammering the wolf's neck with crushing force.
"Gwooh!"
A pitiful cry escaped the beast—but it didn't stop.
It collapsed—Anton had shattered its cervical vertebrae with a single, calculated strike.
"Ahh… ahh… ahh…"
Anton panted, staring at the massive corpse before him.
Its hide, fangs, and bones together were worth dozens of small silver coins—but Anton had no time for that.
*I must return quickly—the caravan's in danger.*
He sprinted at full speed toward the caravan's temporary camp.
***
Meanwhile, Tamer kept pushing forward without pause, driving his body against gravity through sheer will.
*Damn… my head won't stop ringing.*
"Jon! Anton! Can you hear me?! Mr. Kalu!" he shouted, nearing the camp despite the pounding in his skull.
When the caravan finally came into view—still 30 meters away—what he saw rooted him in place.
Bloody Wolves—massive creatures with dark brown fur striped in red, long fangs dripping crimson saliva—
surrounded the caravan from three sides with intelligence and strategy.
Their eyes now blazed a violent red, bright enough to tear through the darkness.
Some were wreathed in red, shimmering halos—Kora energy—clinging to their fur like smoke.
At least 150 wolves, 50 of them radiating that red aura.
*Their movements are perfectly coordinated—far more synchronized than they should be…* Tamer thought carefully.
The caravan held sixty-two people.
Excluding those unfit to fight, only about thirty remained.
That number was utterly insufficient against Bloody Wolves.
Among the fighters, fewer than ten could hold out against these beasts for long.
*Too many… some have halos…*
*That makes them at least Alpha1 rank, some possibly Delta2.*
Tamer scanned the chaos, the ringing in his head refusing to fade.
Jon fought a wolf, his right eye covered in a curtain of blood… a deep scar stretched across his face.
He gripped his sword with trembling fingers in his left hand, desperately defending against the beast lunging at him.
On the opposite side, Anton had just arrived, spinning his twin nunchaku at dazzling speed.
His hands and weapons glowed with Koshin, and the mark on his leg shone with Kora.
Every precise strike hit vital points—but he was surrounded, four wolves for every one of him, unable to aid anyone else.
Kalu's war cry split the night as he swung his massive battle axe—each blow crushing a wolf.
His sweat faintly glowed with Kora, his breaths coming in labored gasps.
The rest of the fighters—mostly low-ranked—barely held their ground through teamwork.
Against these monsters, survival was merely a matter of time they struggled to stretch.
Tamer saw some fallen wolves rise again.
*Some can regenerate! Unless the blow is instantly fatal—destroying the heart, head, or neck—this will never end…*
"Everyone who can't fight long—form a circle around the children!"
Imenata's voice rang over the battle's din. She stood between the wolves and the huddled children.
Always warm and cheerful, she now stood like a warrior mother defending her young.
She fired arrow after arrow, each wrapped in a crystalline Kora aura that warped the air.
Red light glowed in her right hand, another point shimmering at her temple.
"It's alright, Sofia. Everything will be fine," Zofia whispered.
Sha hugging the little girl tightly—shaking but trying to steady her breath.
"We won't survive…"
murmured one of the merchants, waving a sword with untrained hands.
The fighters were tiring. The wolves pressed harder.
Zofia and Sofia were slightly separated from the other children and non-combatants.
Zofia wasn't used to travel or combat—she was here only because she'd been accepted into Atre Academy.
*Should I… use it? But… no… no, I shouldn't. It'll cause an even greater disaster—*
Her thoughts broke as a wolf slipped through Imenata's defense and lunged straight at Zofia.
"Aaah—!"
Sofia's small scream tore through the air as she squeezed her eyes shut and clung tightly to Zofia.
"Zofia! Sofia!"
Imenata spun toward them—too late.
Anton saw it but couldn't break free from the wolves around him.
*Sorry, Father… I couldn't accomplish anything…*
Zofia surrendered to fate—
When a loud voice boomed:
"Waiata Arix Dilek… Orbe Toru… Huoqiu!"
A blazing fireball shot through the air, engulfing the wolf in flames.
It was Tamer.
He panted, his left arm hanging limp.
"Are you two alright? Ah… ah…"
Imenata's voice trembled: "Tamer! Please—protect the children! Please!"
He didn't answer. Instead, he took his stance before them, silently calculating how much Kona he had left.
Shrieks echoed.
Bodies fell.
Kalu's axe rose and fell.
Jon fought with one eye.
Anton struggled against the haloed beasts.
Then—something changed.
A wolf's head dropped cleanly to the ground.
A black shadow, streaked with yellow, moved through the chaos—
too fast to track, every step a whisper, every strike death.
Wolves collapsed one after another.
Zofia, eyes still shut, felt him before she saw him.
The shadow leapt onto a branch—
A boy with copper hair reaching his shoulders, a black shawl covering his face, its golden-trimmed ends fluttering in the air.
His eyes were entirely silver—cold as polished steel.
Slowly, he drew two short knives from sheaths on his back.
The Koshin energy, previously only around his left hand, now wrapped both hands—
Encircling the blades—one reversed, the other forward.
"Who is this?"
"Silver eyes!"
"Just like the legend!"
"Wait—did he just decapitate wolves with his bare hands?!"
The merchants murmured at the sight, but he paid no mind.
His eyes scanned everything as if analyzing—then he vanished, and another headless wolf fell.
Kalu muttered, "By god…"
The boy wasted nothing—every motion perfect, every strike lethal.
Tamer, clutching his head, whispered:
"It's… Boris. As far as I know."
No one asked further.
They only watched as Boris eliminated the last of the haloed wolves.
The remaining beasts fled in terror.
Within minutes, silence fell over a field of corpses.
Boris stood calmly in the center, expressionless.
His silver eyes kept their distance—even as Tamer approached.
Boris lowered his shawl, revealing a gentle, pure smile so unreal it seemed dreamlike.
Sensing what Tamer wanted to say, Boris spoke first:
"No thanks needed. I only did what had to be done."
Countless questions swirled in everyone's minds:
*What? How? Who?*
But there was no answer—only the wind moving through the air.