Demon Continent — Biegoya Region
Migurd Village
The morning sun began to rise, and with it came the sign that a new day had begun.
In most villages, the signs of daybreak were simple—roosters crowing, cows lowing as they stirred awake, or the slow noise of people starting their routines.
Migurd Village was different.
They had no livestock. The Migurds lived by hunting and gathering. Because of that, the sound that marked the start of the day was unusual.
It wasn't the groggy cries of animals, nor the ringing of some grand bell from a lofty church.
Instead—
The sharp clang of metal, heavy breathing, and loud, boisterous shouting echoed through the village.
Rowin Migurdia walked lazily toward the village entrance, yawning as he went.
The village itself was built from the hollowed shells of giant rock tortoises, their gaunt stone bodies repurposed into sturdy homes. As Rowin reached the entrance, he saw the source of the noise.
Two figures clashed.
One wielded a long white spear.
The other held a short blade—bent, curved, shaped like a serpent.
Metal met metal as the spear struck the blade as the blade had been used to parry the strike, but its wielder lacked the strength to fully stop the force behind it and was pushed back.
Taking the opportunity, the smaller figure kicked up sand as he retreated, blocking his opponent's vision.
The opponent—a tall, green-haired man—charged through it.
Though neither of them were Migurds by blood, they had stayed in the village for a long time.
The tall, pale, muscular man with green hair and a red gem embedded in his forehead was Rujierd Superdia. Though he came from the Superd tribe, unlike the common belief that his people were nothing but monsters, Rujierd stood as proof that they were true warriors—his very existence a story of tragedy.
The smaller one was a monkey boy.
Not fully monkey, yet not fully human either. He had fur on his arms and legs, a long tail, and a red mark etched into his forehead.
His name was Wu Khone.
Unlike Rujierd, who had lived and helped the village for several years, the boy had only been here for four—brought to Migurd Village by Rujierd himself.
Khone appeared to be related to the Stone Monkey tribe. Unlike most tribal races, they followed a unique custom: children were not given names until they reached five years of age.
Yet Khone had been named before he was even born.
Clink.
Metal met metal once more.
This time, Wu Khone slashed diagonally, redirecting the spear's path. Though he lacked the strength to push it away entirely, the shift was enough to let him step in and adjust his weight, slicing upward along the spear's shaft.
Rujierd responded instantly.
Using only his left hand, he applied force upward, flicking the spear's long shaft and sending the blade flying from the monkey boy's grip.
"Khone, you need to understand distance better," Rujierd said calmly.
"Closing in is fine, but staying in contact with an opponent's weapon is a bad move when they're far stronger than you."
The lecture had begun.
This was a daily occurrence for the residents of Migurd Village.
"Uncle Rujierd, that was cheap," Khone protested, grinning. "You're just flexing your superior strength on someone weaker. Is that fun?"
As he spoke, Khone kicked up sand and charged, leaping at Rujierd.
It didn't work.
Rujierd caught him midair with one hand.
Wu Khone had been a serene, calm, and gentle child when he first arrived at the village. Despite his age, he had learned to speak quickly and absorbed knowledge at an alarming pace.
Rowin had a good impression of the boy. His wife had been the one to teach Khone how to read and write in Demon-God script. Rujierd spent much of his time hunting and couldn't raise the child alone—especially not one so young.
Those worries faded quickly.
The monkey boy grew faster than children of similar tribal races.
Within two years, he had mastered reading and writing. Stranger still, he picked up a skill that should have been impossible for him.
The Migurds possessed a unique racial gift—telepathy. They could speak directly into one another's minds without words.
Yet one day, a boy who carried no Migurd blood answered a question Rowin had directed at another villager—as if he had heard it.
Alarmed, Rowin consulted the village elder, Rokkos.
The elder suspected the child was born blessed. In most nations, such children were called miko. Unless protected by nobility, they were taken, stripped of their names, and forced to serve their homeland.
Even so, Rowin couldn't be certain.
Wu Khone was strange in every way.
The once timid, quiet personality vanished abruptly after he convinced Rujierd to train him.
At first, the change was subtle.
During sparring, Khone would suddenly break into a wide, gleeful grin.
As training grew harsher, the shift became obvious.
His personality flipped completely—boisterous, loud, overflowing with energy and mischief.
"Uncle Rowin, help!" Wu Khone shouted playfully.
"Uncle Rujierd's gonna eat me—ahhhh!"
His voice was lighthearted, yet there was a faint feral edge beneath it.
"As if, kid," Rowin laughed. "Looks more like you're the one trying to get eaten. Just take the loss properly."
He waved at Rujierd and Khone as they headed back into the village.
The day had begun.
And so had their daily routine.