In a world smaller than ours, walled by stone and ruled by steel, fourteen kingdoms fought endlessly to stand above the rest.

For centuries, their wars raged until two hundred years ago, when Blitz, a western nation, rose to dominance with a military unlike any the world had ever seen.

By the year 1100, Blitz had crushed its rivals and ruled as the largest and most advanced nation alive. Peace followed, but uneasily.

Whispers claimed Blitz’s soldiers wielded unnatural power, strength no mortal should possess. Power used to bend nations to their knees.

Then came the vanishings.

Villages gone overnight. Towns emptied of life. Survivors spoke of monsters crawling through the dark, of blood and shadows. Others blamed rival kingdoms. None knew the truth, only that war was coming.

Far from the capital, deep in the forgotten forests at Blitz’s edge, lay a small village untouched by politics or power.

There, two sixteen-year-old boys hid a secret of their own—unnatural strength. Monstrous strength.

A power that should not exist.

And soon, their world was about to burn.

***

Nox slammed his fist into a tree.

The trunk cracked, a branch splintered, and the whole thing crashed to the forest floor.

“See that?” he grinned, shaking his hand. “I think I’m getting stronger.”

Nox was tall for his age, with rough black hair and a face full of restless energy. His grin fit him perfectly, loud, reckless, impossible to ignore.

Juro smirked, brushing his dark hair from his eyes. He was quieter, leaner, sharper.

“You mean dumber,” he said. “What if someone hears us?”

“They won’t. We’re too deep in the forest. No one’s dumb enough to come out this far.”

“Except us, right?” Juro shot back.

They laughed, short and easy, like they’d done it a hundred times before.

They weren’t here for fun. Their strength was a secret, one their parents had forbidden them to show.

Nox still remembered the fear in his mother’s eyes. Not fear of him, but for him.

Out here in the woods, they could forget that.

Out here, they could be wild.

***

The sun bled low through the trees.

“We should head back,” Juro said.

“You worry too much,” Nox replied. “We’ll just lie about it.”

But Juro was already walking off.

“Hey, wait up!”

They broke from the forest. Just ahead, their village should’ve been visible, but they stopped.

The air was wrong.

Acrid. Bitter. Like scorched metal.

Nox felt the heat on his skin before he saw it.

The sunset burned too bright because it wasn’t the sun.

Flames.

Their village was burning.

They ran.

Smoke clawed their throats. The stench of blood and molten metal filled the air.

Dark shapes writhed in the firelight, hulking, horned, inhuman.

Claws flashed. Fangs gleamed. Shadows twisted.

And in the heart of the chaos stood a man.

Red hair blazing like fire, his eyes cold as frost.

His hand gripped Nox’s mother by her silver hair, yanking her head back.

“Mother!”

Nox’s scream tore through the inferno.

He charged.

Juro faltered, his gaze locking on his own house, collapsing in flame.

The village was void of anybody still alive but filled with lifeless bodies.

His parents were definitely gone.

Grief stabbed through him, but he forced it down. Nox needed him.

Nox crashed into the monsters, fists breaking bone, blood spraying hot across his face.

He didn’t feel the claw that ripped his arm open.

Didn’t stop when a horn slammed into his ribs.

Juro tackled him clear, but the next swipe caught him instead, tearing deep across his back.

They rose, back to back, surrounded.

Only four confirmed lives were still left in the village.Nox, Juro, his mother, and the red-haired man.

The ground trembled.

More beasts closed in.

And then the sky cracked open.

Thunder crashed so loud it felt like the sky was splitting apart. Lightning ripped through the smoke, turning night into day for a heartbeat.

A figure dropped through the storm, gray hair whipping in the wind, his blade caught the light.

The beasts froze, their bodies trembling under the sheer pressure that came with him.

Nox couldn’t breathe. The air itself bent under that presence.

Just before Nox's vision went dark, he caught a glimpse of the stranger’s eyes, sharp and cold, lit by the storm.

Then darkness.

Nox surfaced slowly from the dark, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. His body felt heavy, wrapped in warmth and the faint smell of old wood.

Above him, ceiling beams loomed, aged, dark, and strangely familiar. For a dazed moment, he thought he recognized them. The roof looked just like the one from the house he grew up in, the same roof he opened his eyes to every morning.

A shaky breath left his lips.

So it was all a dream, then. The fire. The beasts. The red-haired man.

Maybe it was just a nightmare.

He almost let himself believe it. Almost.

Then a loud clang shattered the illusion.

A bucket hit the wooden floor beside him, water spilling cold against his side. Nox jerked, and the fog in his mind burned away.

The memories came back sharp and merciless, the flames, the claws, his mother’s silver hair clenched in that bastard’s fist.

His chest tightened until it hurt. He turned his head.

Juro sat on the floor nearby, shirt torn and chest bandaged, his trembling hands reaching for the spilled bucket. His face was pale, streaked with soot and dried blood. His eyes were wide and empty.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then Nox rasped, voice raw and cracking,

“It… it wasn’t a dream.”

Juro’s lips trembled. “No.”

The weight of it hit them both at once. The fire. The screams. Everyone they loved, gone.

They broke.

Nox curled on his side, clutching his ribs, and Juro leaned back against the wall. Their sobs filled the small wooden room, ragged and unrestrained. No words. Just grief spilling out until it left them shaking and hollow.

A sound cut through the quiet—a low, deliberate throat clearing.

The boys froze, lifting their tear-swollen eyes toward the doorway. A tall shadow stood there, framed in dim lantern light.

The figure stepped forward. His boots creaked on the floorboards, and as the light caught him, Nox saw a man with storm-grey hair and eyes that looked too tired to be awake.

Nox tensed, breath catching. “Who… who are you?”

Before the man could answer, Juro’s hand found Nox’s arm. His voice was hoarse but steady.

“This is Raizen,” he said. “The man who saved us.”

Juro wiped at his face and pushed himself up. Every movement made his ribs ache. The stranger stepped farther into the room, and the lantern light fell partly across his face, leaving the other half in shadow.

His hair wasn’t long, but it caught the light in silver-grey strands. He didn’t look old—maybe forty-five at most—but the color seemed deliberate, as if it belonged there.

Nox looked at him again. “He’s really the one who saved us?”

“Yeah,” Juro said. His eyes, though swollen, burned fiercely as he turned to Raizen. “He’s awake now. So tell us, what really happened? Why did everyone we know have to die?”

Juro recalled when Raizen had told him to focus on taking care of his friend first, when he woke he would tell them what really happened to their village.

Raizen’s lips parted, but no words came. He exhaled a long, heavy sigh and leaned back against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor.

The boys exchanged a confused glance.

Finally, Raizen spoke, voice low and rough. “Before I reached your village, I was already fighting the one leading those beasts, the horned creature that attacked your home.” His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. There are only three survivors.”

Nox’s head snapped up. “Three?”

Raizen nodded. “You. Juro. And your mother. I’m sorry I couldn’t save anyone else… I arrived too late.”

“Then where is she?” Nox asked frantically.

“The red haired man from that night took her.” Juro replied dryly.

Nox sagged against the wall. His fists clenched until his knuckles whitened, his head bowed. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks.

“Why… why didn’t you choose her instead of me?” His voice cracked. “You should’ve saved her. I’m useless. I couldn’t even protect my own mother. I just watched that filthy bastard put his hands on her…”

The room went silent except for Nox’s shaking breaths.

Then Raizen’s voice cut through the quiet. “To kill the horned beasts, you have to kill their leader.”

Both boys looked up, startled.

“Their leader?” Juro asked. “What do you mean?”

Raizen’s storm-grey eyes met theirs. “They’re called Dreknars. Each time one is wiped out, another eventually appears. We don’t know where they come from. What we do know is that each new species is stronger than the last.”

He leaned forward, tone steady and grim. “Each species has one true member—the multiplier. That one creates the rest. Kill it, and the others die with it. But the leader always hides, guarded by the pack.”

He paused, for a brief moment. “At every full moon, their power multiplies. It’s also the only time they can heal injuries they’ve sustained before. The one that destroyed your village is still out there, hiding in the forest nearby. When the next full moon comes, it’s very likely it'll reveal itself.”

Raizen stood, the lantern light glinting faintly off his grey hair.

“Before then, I can make you strong—strong enough to face it. And both of you possess the power of Iora, just like me.”

The words hung in the air.

“So,” he said quietly, “at the next full moon… will you join me in hunting the beast?”

Nox’s fists trembled. His voice burned with raw fury. “You’re saying I have to wait sixteen days to get my hands on them? A chance for revenge? That’s not something I’d ever refuse.”

Juro exhaled. “It’s actually ten days.”

Nox blinked. “I’ve been sleeping for ten days? What the hell?”

Juro sighed. “No. It’s been five.”

Nox scratched his head, still confused.

Juro rolled his eyes and rubbed his temple, exasperated.

For a moment, it almost felt normal—their first half-casual exchange since Nox had woken.

Raizen shook his head with a faint sigh and pushed himself upright.

“Well then,” he said, “since you’ve made up your minds… training starts tomorrow.”

Morning sunlight filtered through the cabin walls. Nox sat up slowly, ribs aching. Juro was already awake, rubbing his face.

The door creaked open. Raizen stood there with an unreadable look, gray hair catching the light.

"Good. You're both awake," he said flatly. "Your bodies should be ripe enough for training."

Nox squinted. "Ripe? What are we, fruit?"

Raizen ignored him, stepping inside. "You already have Iora inside you. But to control it, your body has to be strong enough to handle it. Physical training is key."

"Iora..." Juro frowned. "You mean that weird energy thing you mentioned yesterday?"

Raizen gave a small nod. "Those monsters that attacked your village grow their numbers by transforming dead humans."

Juro’s jaw tightened. "Is that why there were no corpses in the village?"

"Mostly ash," Raizen said. "That fire wasn’t natural. And the necromancer who leads them doesn’t need much flesh to make soldiers. Unless..." He paused, almost to himself. "...he’s building an army."

"There were about three hundred people in that village," Juro snapped. "How does that make an army?"

Before Raizen could answer, Nox touched Juro’s shoulder. His grip was firm.

"You went back?" he asked quietly.

Juro froze. Before he could respond, Raizen cut in sharply. "We’re wasting time. Every second counts."

He tossed a heavy sack to the floor with a thud.

"These are weight pads," Raizen said. "Strap them to your arms and legs and start running."

Nox eyed the sack suspiciously. "Run where?"

"Into the forest. There’s plenty of space," Raizen said, smirking faintly. "Keep running until you feel like passing out."

"That’s it? Just run?" Nox raised an eyebrow. "Brilliant training plan."

Raizen stepped closer, his tone razor sharp. "From what Juro told me, you’ve done physical training before. You fell trees with your bare knuckles. But this will be different. I want you to run until you hate yourself, and then run some more."

Juro muttered, "Yeah... this is gonna kill us."

"Better me than a Dreknar," Raizen replied dryly. "Now move."

The forest floor blurred under their feet—rocks, roots, uneven ground. They stumbled, hopped, and pushed through. Noon crept closer, sweat gluing their shirts to their backs.

Five hours. No breaks. No food. Their ribs still ached from the last fight.

"Wait... stop..." Juro’s voice cracked as he grabbed a tree to steady himself. His chest heaved. "I’m done. Five minutes, just five minutes."

He tried tugging the weight pads off his wrists. They didn’t budge.

"What the hell? These things—"

"We can’t take them off." Nox was panting like a wild dog. He flopped against a tree, glaring at the pads. "I mean, we could probably punch a tree down right now. How does this make us stronger?"

"Raizen’s strong. Maybe he knows what he’s doing. Let’s just keep up with it for a while," Juro said between gasps. He knelt, inspecting the strange metal bands. No seams, no latches. Like they’d fused to their skin.

Nox shot him a side eye. "You’re either a genius or you were a genius." A raspy chuckle escaped his throat. "Fine. I’ll listen to you... for now."

A voice cut through the forest. "You really should listen to him."

They froze. Heads whipped left and right.

"Where the hell—" Nox’s eyes shot upward. Raizen was perched on a massive branch like a lazy predator, legs crossed, elbow on his knee, chin in his palm.

"How did you get there? We’ve been running in a straight line for hours!" Nox barked.

"The man can summon lightning and you’re shocked he can run faster than us?" Juro muttered.

Nox grunted low but audibly.

Raizen raised three fingers lazily. "Three things. One, you’ve been running in circles. But that doesn’t really matter—movement’s movement."

"Circles?!" Nox snapped.

"Two, it’s only been five hours. Why are you stopping?"

"Because it’s been five hours and we’re dying," Juro wheezed.

Raizen ignored him. "And three, if you’re talking this loud, it means you’re not even close to being tired. I said run until you hate breathing. Until your lungs feel like they’ll explode. But there you are chatting."

"I’m pretty sure he’s gonna kill us before the Dreknars get the chance," Nox groaned.

"Just shut up and let’s keep running," Juro said, still inspecting his arm pads.

"Listen to him," Raizen’s voice echoed again, now from somewhere else entirely. "He sounds a lot smarter than you."

Nox let out a low growl. With exaggerated effort, he pointed at Juro. "First, you shut up. And second, Raizen, what are you now, a ghost?"

"I really, truly hate kids," Raizen’s voice floated through the trees, detached and amused.

"We’re not kids! We’re sixteen!" Nox roared back, chest heaving.

Juro grabbed him by the collar before he could pick another fight with thin air. "Come on, let’s move."

And they ran again.

***

Three hours later.

---

Juro’s voice came out like gravel. "I think... we’ve been running... almost eight hours... on empty stomachs. I can’t... I can’t go on."

He collapsed face-first into the dirt. His arms trembled just to keep him propped up. The heat pressed down like a second set of weights. Even with the trees throwing shade, the air felt thick enough to chew.

Nox crumpled in front of him, throat bone dry, lips cracked. He didn’t have the strength to speak. He couldn’t even feel the pads on his arms and legs anymore; his body had gone numb.

A voice cut through the haze, calm and maddeningly steady.

"If you cross this line," Raizen said, dragging the tip of a long stick across the ground, "you’ve made it to forty kilometers."

Nox cracked his eyes open. Raizen stood in front of them like he’d been there the whole time. In his other hand, he held a bag. He dropped it by the line. Out spilled water, food, and two shiny red apples that gleamed like heaven itself.

Nox was fifteen feet away from the line. Juro was ten feet behind him. Fifteen feet might as well have been fifteen miles. His muscles screamed, every joint locked in fire. He tilted his head back toward Juro. His jagged breathing had gone frighteningly silent.

He wanted to call his name but could only mouth something soundless. His tongue was like paper. His lips wouldn’t move.

Then he understood. Raizen wasn’t going to give them that food. He wasn’t going to carry them. If they wanted to live, they’d have to save themselves.

Nox’s gaze locked on the water. That was it. His whole world shrank to that container. He didn’t think. He didn’t plan. He just started crawling.

He dragged himself like a dying soldier on a battlefield, elbows grinding into the earth. Every inch felt like a war. Dirt scraped his wounds, ants marched across his neck, rocks dug into his ribs. He let himself feel all of it, because stopping meant death. He kept whispering in his head. Just the water. Just reach the water.

His vision blurred. His lungs burned. His chest rasped for air. But the line got closer. Closer and closer and closer.

Then he was over it.

Nox’s shaking hand slapped the container, fingers curling around it like a drowning man grabbing driftwood. He forced himself up onto his knees, then somehow to his feet. He stumbled back to Juro with nothing left in him but stubbornness.

He dropped to his knees and propped Juro’s head on his lap. "Drink," he croaked, shoving the container to his friend’s lips.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then Juro gulped greedily, the sound louder than the pounding in Nox’s ears. He grabbed the container himself and drank like a man who’d been dying of thirst for years.

The sight made Nox smile faintly. Then his body finally gave out. He fell sideways into the dirt, boneless.

"Idiot," Juro rasped, coughing. He sat up with shaky hands and tilted the container back to Nox’s lips. The cold water hit like liquid life.

Nox sputtered mid-gulp, coughing. "Stop! Juro, you’re pouring it into my nose!"

Juro dropped the container and swung a weak punch at his shoulder. "Shut up," he muttered. They both started laughing. It sounded broken and hoarse and alive.

Nox glanced sideways and blinked. "Hey... your weights are off."

Sure enough, Juro’s pads were unshackled, lying discarded by his feet.

Juro pointed at the sand line Raizen had drawn. "Yours too. Right before the finish line."

"Whoa. Wonder how that happened." Nox wheezed a laugh, still lying flat on the ground.

His stomach growled loud and feral. Juro shot him a look, ready to clown him. Then his own stomach roared even louder, almost shaking his ribs.

They both broke into another round of ragged laughter. It hurt to laugh, but they laughed anyway. And then, half dragging each other, they stumbled toward the bag of food sitting beyond the line in the sand.