Since ancient times, the word 'equality' never existed in this world.
From the moment they were born, humans were placed within a clear hierarchy.
Those who ruled, those who served, and those who were ruled.
It was an inevitable order of power.
Hah. Ridiculously so.
Yang bit into the cold, hardened bun and chewed without any expression.
The bun was made of coarse grains, rough on the throat and difficult to swallow, but it was still better than nothing.
Bite by bite, he forced it down, nearly choking once or twice.
Certainly, this was the value that this world had assigned to him.
Without hesitation, he finished one quickly and carefully tucked the other away for later.
Even feeling a little smug as he watched the greedy gazes around him withdraw one by one.
Hmph. He would never make the same mistake twice!
Whenever Yang recalled his foolish act of throwing food away yesterday, only to starve the entire day, he wanted to smash some sense into his waterlogged brain.
This was his blood, sweat and life!
Wasn't having a full stomach better than acting picky?
At a time like this, when everyone around him was ready to pounce on the slightest scrap of food, he has actually thrown it away?
Idiot! Yang could only sigh inwardly, shaking his head.
He dusted off his old, ragged clothes twice before gripping his precious axe as he vigilantly followed the large crowd ahead.
His pale eyes swept coldly over the prying eyes around him deterring them—at least a little.
Then as he looked at the desolate expanse ahead, Yang felt an even deeper desolation settled into his heart.
The once-bustling roads lay in ruin, choked with debris and silence.
Abandoned vehicles were piled haphazardly at the corners. Buildings leaned at crooked angles, their windows shattered.
Every corner reek of death and abandonment—burnt storefronts, collapsed homes, walls blackened by fire and time.
Yang lifted his head and stared at the clear yet lifeless sky. He was going crazy!
As the ordinary son of the Holy guardian, the Kingdom's strongest knight, Yang had always lived a life of luxury, arrogance, and bliss.
Even though he had been declared to possess little to no magic affinity since birth, no one had dared look down on him.
Why? Because he had a powerful father!
Everything he ever wanted had been placed at his fingertips.
Talent, magic, bloodline—none of it had mattered to him.
He had never lacked flattery.
Tsk.
After all, his father was the greatest, putting him above countless others. Who would dare treat him poorly?
While he was lost in thoughts, Yang suddenly felt his ears ring as his body shuddered violently.
A sharp, frigid wind slash against his skin.
With his current body, if he wasn't careful, he might actually be blown away.
Sighed.
"Everyone crouch down! Cover your head! Don't open your eyes—it's a wind shear!"
At this moment, a rough voice shouted from the front of the group.
Yang reacted instinctively.
Along with the others, he crouched down, shut his eyes tightly, lowered his head, and shielded it with his arms.
He grimaced.
Even the heavens must have been jealous of his comfortable life, throwing him into this godforsaken era just to reform him.
Yang felt the violent wind scraped against his exposed skin, the cold quickly numbing the pain.
Faint whispers echoed around him, coaxing and tempting him to open his eyes.
Yang gritted his teeth and endured. No. He couldn't.
Wind Shear.
To be honest, he had only ever read about in books or heard about of it during academy lectures.
According to the history, Wind Shear was one of the most common forms of attack used by souls.
Though considered mild, it was still dangerous. They usually lasted no longer than ten minutes.
In his nineteen years of life, Yang had never encountered one. Yet—he had only been here for a day and a half, he felt utterly exasperated.
He could only pray silently for it to end.
Gradually, the wind weakened and the whispers faded into nothingness.
...It should be fine now.
Yang cautiously opened one eye, let out a breath of relief, and sank down onto the ground.
His legs were slightly numb from crouching too long.
Then Yang began checking the small bundle of goods he had managed to scavenge so far when something caught the corner of his vision.
A wisp of black air.
His movement froze almost immediately. Wait...Black mist? He shouldn't be that unlucky, right?
Yang's fingers trembled imperceptively as his head turn stiffly towards it.
The black mist lingered in the air, coiling faintly around a thin, small figure standing not far away.
An older woman, presumably the girl's mother, was kneeling in front of the child, carefully checking her over.
She cupped her daughter's face, searching for the smallest injury.
"Baby, are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?" she asked softly. "Tell me, did you close your eyes and stay low like mama told you?"
Upon hearing the question, the little girl figeted, her gaze darting away.
"...I did," she murmured.
Almost instinctively, after seeing her daughter's reaction, the color drained from the woman's face.
She swallowed and tightened her grip, her voice trembling as she pressed on.
"Bubu, did you really listen to mama?" she asked, almost pleading. "You didn't open your eyes, right? Not even once?"
"Tell me the truth... you did what I said, didn't you?"
Probably startled by her mother's intense gaze, the little girl flinched and nodded quickly.
"Yes! Bubu was obedient!"
The woman's eyes flickered, lost in thought.
Heh.
Yang couldn't tell whether the woman believed her or not but he absolutely do not believe that bullshit.
Tell that to the filthy shadows hovering around the little girl!
But still, he didn't shout it out like an idiot, inviting a beating. He possibly couldn't 1vN them.
Plus, he had no way to prove his words anyway. Right now, it seems only he can see these shadows.
Besides, these people were clearly a group; long familiar with each other while Yang just joined recently.
He couldn't just say, 'This child is already infected by a soul. There's no hope left. If you want to stay alive, you should kill her now.'
Unless—
Unless someone could cast a Healing Rune.
Which, at this point, was next to impossible.
By the time the woman finished reassuring others nearby that everything was fine, Yang was already stuffing everything he could into his small bundle—crying inwardly.
He didn't want to die so quickly!