Chapter 1: The Boy Who Looked Through the Glass

The boy stood before a cracked mirror in the orphanage corridor.

Black hair fell messily over his forehead. Brown eyes, too large for his thin face, reflected someone small— someone easy to overlook.

He was twelve years old. His height barely reached 140 cm.

But his eyes… They were fixed on the window beyond the mirror.

Outside, the Karans were returning.

Armored figures rode through the stone-paved streets, their banners fluttering in the wind. The people gathered in waves—cheering, calling out names, throwing flowers, shouting praises.

“They’re back!”

“The dungeon was cleared!”

“Long live the Karans!”

Aiska pressed his hands against the cold glass.

The warriors were covered in dust and dried monster blood. Their weapons glinted under the sunlight. Some walked, others rode horses. Their faces were tired—but proud.

They were heroes.

The ones who fought the Saner. The ones who entered the dungeons. The ones who protected the world.

Aiska smiled quietly.

Someday… I’ll be like them.

His heart pounded.

Without thinking, he turned and sprinted down the corridor.

Footsteps echoed loudly.

Thump—!

“Oi!”

His collar was suddenly yanked backward. Aiska’s feet lifted off the floor as if he’d been plucked by an invisible hand.

A girl stood behind him, one eyebrow raised.

“So you were here again,” she said flatly. “Why did you miss class?”

“Aiska.”

She wore the uniform of the orphanage staff. Blonde hair tied neatly behind her head. Golden eyes sharp with irritation.

“Mam Sivra Olem…” Aiska muttered.

She sighed. “Your drama again?”

Aiska struggled. “Please, let me go! I just want to see them from the other window!”

“Absolutely not.”

“I won’t go to class! I want to see them!”

Sivra dragged him toward the classroom door.

“Stop it, Aiska. Why are you so obsessed with that job?” she snapped. “They kill monsters. That’s all they do. Their hands are soaked in blood.”

Aiska glared up at her.

“No! They’re awesome! They’re amazing! They’re cool!”

Sivra suddenly stopped.

“…What did you say?”

Her lips curled into a strange smile.

The classroom door opened.

She threw Aiska inside.

“Wha—hey—!”

The entire class turned to look at him.

The teacher paused mid-sentence.

Sivra stood at the door, smiling with a gentle expression that somehow felt like a death sentence.

“Take your seat,” she said sweetly.

Aiska swallowed.

…Maybe I should just stay silent.

He walked to his seat, shoulders slumped.

The teacher cleared his throat.

“My name is Aakar Salowan. Now that everyone is present, listen carefully.”

He turned to the board and wrote several words.

Mire

Droth

Iven

Falk

Nera

Primarch

“These are the Grades of the Karans,” Aakar said. “Mire is the lowest. At that rank, a Karan can only wield basic swordsmanship. No elemental power. No mana techniques.”

Aiska leaned forward.

“Droth and Iven gain access to magic and enhanced physical abilities. Falk and Nera are elite. And Primarch…”

Aakar’s chalk paused.

“…is the highest grade. The strongest Karans known to the kingdoms.”

Aiska stared at the board.

So that’s how it works…

Outside the window, Sivra stood watching the returning Karans.

Her golden eyes lingered on a single rider at the front of the group.

Red-brown hair. Black eyes. Confident posture atop a white horse.

Rellin Fosk. Droth-grade Karan. Height 176 cm.

At his side:

Aven Torkyl Fire mage, red hair, red eyes, 169 cm

Yari Quenth Healer, black hair, green eyes, 170 cm

Keshra Water mage, blue hair and eyes, 159 cm

Orrin Vaeskar Fire mage, black hair, black eyes, 176 cm

The people cheered wildly.

Sivra smiled faintly.

Rellin… my love. I hope you’ll have time to speak with me today.

Rellin glanced up.

For a moment, their eyes met.

He smiled.

Sivra’s breath caught.

Then—

She noticed Aiska staring from the classroom window.

Her eyes in disbelief.

The World of Dungeons

In this world, dungeons appear without warning.

They open in cities, forests, mountains, oceans— anywhere.

Once a dungeon is cleared, the same location becomes dormant for seven days before reopening. But the world holds millions of such points, meaning humanity is under constant threat.

Inside the dungeons dwell creatures known as Saner.

The Saner are not natural beings. They are born from distorted mana pools deep within the dungeons—formed when the world’s mana becomes unstable.

When left unchecked, Saner evolve.

They grow stronger. They mutate. They multiply.

This is why dungeons must be cleared quickly.

To fight them, humanity created warriors known as Karans—humans who awakened special abilities after being exposed to dungeon mana.

But Karans are not just warriors.

The bodies of the Saner contain core fragments, bones, crystals, and organs infused with raw mana.

These materials are:

Forged into weapons and armor

Refined into industrial power sources

Used to create medical catalysts

Used to fuel city barriers and transport engines

This is why kingdoms compete over dungeon territories.

There are Nine Great Kingdoms:

Vaelo

Talar

Avero

Serin

Zarek

Torek

Liora

Rivena

Korun

Each kingdom raises Karans. Each kingdom claims dungeon zones. Each kingdom profits from the Saner.

And yet—

Among all this blood, power, and glory…

There was only a small orphan boy, staring through glass—

Dreaming of becoming something greater.

( Chapter 1 End)

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long, orange shadows across the orphanage courtyard.

Aiska sat on a wooden bench, his eyes—as usual—drifting toward the distant gate where the Karans had passed earlier.

“Hey, Window Boy!”

A shadow fell over him.

Aiska didn't even have to look up to know who it was.

Brad.

He was twelve, just like Aiska, and stood at the exact same height of 140 cm.

But where Aiska was thin and wiry, Brad was built like a brick.

He had buzzed brown hair and a permanent smirk that made his face look older—and meaner—than it actually was.

“Still staring at the road?” Brad sneered, his two friends flanking him.

“You spend so much time looking through that glass, I’m surprised your face hasn't turned into a window yet.”

“Leave me alone, Brad,” Aiska said quietly.

“Or what?”

Brad stepped closer, poking Aiska’s chest hard.

“You think just because you watch them, you’re one of them? You’re an orphan, Aiska. You’re a nobody. You’ll never touch a sword, let alone a dungeon.”

Aiska’s fist clenched.

He felt a strange heat rising in his chest—a spark that had been flickering since he saw Rellin Fosk earlier that day.

“The Karans don’t just kill monsters,” Aiska said, his voice dropping to a low, vibrating tone that made Brad’s friends blink.

“They carry the weight of the sun on their shoulders so the rest of us don't have to live in the dark. I can feel it. The mana... the call of the dungeons. It’s not just a job, Brad. It’s a destiny. And I can feel my heart beating in time with it.”

For a second, the courtyard went silent.

There was a raw intensity in Aiska’s eyes that actually made Brad take a half-step back.

It was the kind of look a predator gives a scavenger.

Then, Brad burst out laughing.

“Destiny? Mana?” Brad roared, clutching his stomach.

“You’re delusional! You and a Karan? No way! You’re just a skinny kid who can’t even finish his chores!”

THWACK!

Aiska didn't think.

He just swung.

His small fist connected squarely with Brad’s jaw.

Brad stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock.

He touched his face, feeling the sting.

The silence returned, but this time, it was heavy with danger.

“You... you actually hit me?”

Brad’s face turned bright red.

“Get him!”

The fight was short and brutal.

Aiska was fast, but there were three of them.

Brad tackled Aiska into the dirt, raining down punches.

Aiska fought back like a wild animal, scratching and kicking, but a heavy blow to his nose sent stars dancing across his vision.

Warm blood began to leak down his lip, staining his shirt.

“Keep dreaming, Window Boy!” Brad yelled, raising his fist for another hit.

“STOP IT!”

The voice cut through the air like a whip.

The other boys immediately panicked.

“It’s Sivra! Run!”

They grabbed Brad’s arms, trying to pull him away, but Brad was blinded by rage.

He managed to land one last kick to Aiska’s ribs before his friends finally dragged him toward the back of the building.

Sivra Olem came sprinting across the yard, her blonde hair flying behind her.

She knelt beside Aiska, her golden eyes wide with worry.

“Aiska! Look at me!”

She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it to his bloody nose.

“What were you thinking? I told you to stay away from Brad and his group!”

“I’m fine,” Aiska wheezed, trying to sit up.

“You’re not fine! You’re covered in dirt and blood!”

Sivra sighed, her anger softening into pity.

“Stop talking to those boys, Aiska. They’ll only break you. You need to accept where you are.”

Aiska pulled her hand away, his eyes burning with a fire that startled her.

“No,” he said, his voice cracking but firm.

“I won’t just stay silent. I’ll make them believe. I’ll make everyone believe. I’m not just going to be a Karan, Sivra. I’m going to be a Primarch. The strongest one this world has ever seen.”

Sivra stared at him.

She wanted to tell him it was impossible.

She wanted to tell him that only the high-born or the lucky ones ever reached that height.

But the look in his eyes...

it was the same look she saw in Rellin’s eyes when he faced a dungeon.

The Orphanage Dormitory

Sivra carried Aiska to his small, creaky bed.

She cleaned his wounds in silence, tucked the thin blanket around his shoulders, and blew out the candle on his bedside table.

“Sleep, Aiska,” she whispered.

“Dreams don’t hurt as much when you’re asleep.”

She walked out of the room and closed the door softly.

Standing in the dark corridor, she leaned her head against the wood.

Her mind drifted back to the rider on the white horse—Rellin Fosk.

He’s just a boy, she thought, but he has the soul of a warrior. It’s dangerous. If he tries to awaken his mana without help, it could kill him.

She looked toward the window, where the moon was rising.

Maybe... maybe I should tell Rellin about him tomorrow. If anyone can see the spark in this boy, it’s him.

Inside the room, Aiska’s hand remained clenched in a fist, even in his sleep.

(Chapter 2 End )

Morning light slipped through the thin curtains of the orphanage dormitory.

Aiska slowly opened his eyes.

His body felt sore, but not as painful as he expected.

He lifted a hand and touched his nose.

“…Huh?”

It didn’t hurt.

He sat up and blinked.

It was completely fine.

“No blood… no pain…”

He let out a small sigh.

“So it’s another day again…”

He slid off the bed and stretched.

That’s when he heard it.

Footsteps.

Fast ones.

Dozens of kids were running through the corridors, their voices filled with excitement.

“Move! Hurry up!”

“He’s in the hall!”

“Brad’s there again!”

Aiska froze.

…Why are they so excited?

He stepped into the hallway and watched kids rush past him like a flood.

His chest tightened.

Something about the noise felt wrong.

“…What are they doing?”

Curiosity pulled him forward.

He followed them.

The main hall was packed.

Children filled the sides, standing on benches, even leaning from the upper railings.

Shouting.

Laughing.

Cheering.

Aiska pushed through the crowd.

Then he saw it.

Brad.

Standing in the center of the hall.

And beneath him—

A boy.

Curled up on the floor.

Brad’s fist came down again.

THUD!

The boy cried out.

The crowd roared.

“Again!”

“Hit him again!”

“Brad is crazy!”

Aiska’s eyes widened.

…That boy…

He looked about Aiska’s age.

Thin.

Scared.

Trying to cover his face.

Aiska felt his chest tighten.

That’s not right…

Brad raised his fist again.

Then—

“HEY!”

All eyes turned.

Aiska was already running forward.

Brad paused and looked up.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Oh? Look who’s here.”

He grinned wider.

“The window boy healed already?”

The crowd murmured.

“Isn’t that the kid from yesterday?”

“He got beaten up bad.”

Aiska clenched his fists.

…That boy…

He’s not going to be like me.

Not while I’m here.

Aiska rushed forward.

His heart was pounding so loud he could hear it in his ears.

Brad cracked his knuckles.

“Come on then,” he said lazily. “Try again.”

Aiska threw a punch.

But—

Brad moved first.

THUD!

A fist slammed into Aiska’s stomach.

The air rushed out of his lungs.

His vision went white.

“…H—”

His legs gave out.

He collapsed to the floor.

The hall went silent for a second.

Then—

“Woah…”

“He went down in one hit.”

“Brad didn’t even try.”

Brad looked down at Aiska and smirked.

“…Tch.”

He turned his back.

And walked away.

His friends laughed.

“Wow Brad, amazing.”

“Just one punch and he can’t even move.”

The boy on the floor stared at Aiska in shock.

“…He tried to help me…”

Around them, whispers spread.

“Huh that boy again?”

“Why does he think he’s a hero?”

“Is he insane to fight Brad?”

One girl whispered dreamily,

“…Brad is purely amazing. I just wish I could marry him.”

Another girl scoffed.

“Look at that weak kid. Who’s going to carry him to the staff now?”

A boy nearby muttered,

“Ew… getting beaten in one punch. I wouldn’t be like that.”

Aiska couldn’t move.

His body felt heavy.

His ears rang.

Then—

“MOVE ASIDE!”

A familiar voice cut through the crowd.

A woman rushed in and dropped to her knees.

“Aiska!”

She lifted him into her arms.

“Sariya Walpher!”

The kids stepped back as she ran toward the infirmary.

White light filled Aiska’s vision.

The smell of medicine.

Cloth brushing against his skin.

He slowly opened his eyes.

“…Where… am I?”

The ceiling looked unfamiliar.

Clean.

Bright.

The infirmary.

He turned his head.

A woman sat beside the bed.

Short brown hair tied back.

Gentle eyes.

But her expression was strict.

“…Mam Sariya.”

She noticed he was awake.

“Don’t move,” she said immediately. “You’re still injured.”

Aiska tried to sit up.

“I’m okay! I’m going to beat that asshole—”

“Bad language, Aiska.”

“…Okay. Okay. I understand.”

He sighed and lay back.

Then his eyes softened.

This mam…

She saved me since I was a child.

She found me on a battlefield.

And she never left me to die.

“…Mam Sariya.”

“Yes?”

“Who told you I was in the hall?”

She smiled gently.

“The boy you saved. He came running to us, crying, and told us everything.”

Aiska blinked.

“…He did?”

He smiled faintly.

…So it was a better choice after all.

Mam Sariya looked at him carefully.

“You always jump in first, don’t you?”

Aiska laughed weakly.

“I don’t like seeing people get hurt.”

“…That will get you killed one day,” she said quietly.

Aiska scratched his cheek.

“Yeah… probably.”

She sighed.

Then suddenly—

Her eyes shifted.

She smiled strangely.

“…By the way. You’re not the only one here.”

“…Huh?”

Mam Sariya stepped aside and pointed to the corner of the room.

Aiska followed her gaze.

There—

Stood Sivra.

Arms crossed.

Golden eyes glowing with a familiar deathstare.

Aiska’s soul nearly left his body.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?!”

Sivra’s smile twitched.

“…Say that again.”

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO THAT!”

Mam Sariya laughed.

“You should rest, hero.”

Aiska sank into the bed.

…This is my life.

Aiska staring at the ceiling.

His body hurt.

His pride hurt more.

And yet—

Somewhere deep inside him—

That strange heat in his chest was still burning.

(Chapter 3 End)