Under the morning mist and lingering chill, dew still clung to the grass, only just beginning to evaporate.
Arvind rested his head in one hand, the other hanging at his side as cold air brushed his skin.
It had been nearly half a month since they'd set out.
Is this really supposed to be my territory?
There wasn't a trace of civilization. His eyes swept across the towering trees — as tall as four-story buildings.
So primitive... Would they even have salt?...
Their pace slowed as the road ahead narrowed. Arvind leaned out and saw that the terrain wouldn't allow smooth passage for the rest of the group. He cursed the lord who had sent him here.
Then remembered — he was that lord now.
Stepping down and moving ahead alone, he came upon a line of civilians, the makeshift team trudging behind. They bowed quickly in their worn, tattered clothes — malnourished, exhausted.
His eyes scanned them. He wasn't here for pity. He was looking for the craftsmen his family had arranged.
There — two men in a carriage stacked with goods, their families close behind. Children clung to their fathers' rough hands — hands worn by years of hard labor.
Arvind smiled and approached.
The craftsmen climbed down, bowing slightly, fingers twitching with uncertainty, unsure of what their new lord wanted.
He got straight to the point.
"Have either of you considered using mass resources in craftsmanship? Wouldn't that increase output and save time?
Just imagine — no more repetitive tasks like fanning the fire, hauling materials, or hammering raw iron by hand."
They listened closely. Encouraged, Arvind leaned in, drawing on fragments of scientific memory from his past life.
"If we organize labor well, we could flood the region with tools and iron. We'd be rich. This... this might be the code to wealth."
His eyes gleamed. Was he the one who would spark Ravengarde's prosperity?
The blacksmith nudged the carpenter. Should we say something?
His friend stayed silent.
"Respectable my lord, if I may..."
The carpenter bowed slightly.
"Your idea is powerful. I believe the Craftmen's Guild might even register it as an innovation.
But... we're just ordinary craftsmen. We can't do legendary work like that. I'm sorry we can't meet your expectations."
The blacksmith nodded, still stunned.
Arvind's fantasies shattered like glass.
"What about using magic? Wouldn't that be easier?"
Before the carpenter could answer, the blacksmith stepped in, voice careful but firm.
"Forgive me, my lord, but I assume you haven't lived outside the castle much.
Magic work needs an aetheric path — and that's a rare luxury. Only master blacksmiths who are aetherics can do that."
"Yes, my lord," the carpenter added. "We can't even tell what's aetherion ore and what isn't.
We wouldn't dare dream of legendary tools. That's beyond us."
They lowered their heads, sighing.
Arvind stood there, humiliated — corrected by commoners. A vague shame stung his chest.
Was my past life useless? All my grand plans… falling apart like scraps of old parchment.
The shadows stretched longer, as if even the land itself was unimpressed by his plans.
He drifted toward Shankar, who was surveying the caravan.
"Do you think we can recruit a master blacksmith?"
Shankar looked over, surprised.
"Hmm? Unlikely, my lord. Why? What happened? Shouldn't we be focused on securing a foundation in Ravengarde first?
I know tinkering with gadgets is fun, but... we don't have that luxury right now."
Arvind winced beneath Shankar's concern. He knew that.
He also knew that wealth meant survival. He just... wanted to contribute.
"No, I mean… if we brought in a master blacksmith, couldn't we produce magical tools? Boost our income?"
He continued walking, aimless. Others glanced at him — even the knights whispered among themselves.
He looked hollow. Slouched. Like his soul had been quietly sucked out.
"Even the Church of Light abandoned this place," someone muttered.
The words spread like rot in the air — fear blooming into whispers.
"Cursed," another voice hissed. "We shouldn't have come."
Heads turned. Shoulders hunched. Feet inched backward.
Arvind heard every word. His hands balled into fists.
At the moment.
"My lord! There's a village!"
Arvind surged forward.
Thatched rooftops peeked through the trees—
Then a scream tore through the air.
His breath caught.
Hope snapped in half.
The knights raced ahead.
Moments later, they returned — faces dark and grim.
Could it really be that bad?
A scout reported: magical beasts had invaded the village.
Arvind dug his nails into his palm. One thought gripped him like iron:
Stay out.
But the civilians heard the news too — and they paled like corpses.
His instincts screamed to retreat.
But the rising panic around him anchored him in place. The terrified cries weren't something he could ignore.
Shankar and Faelan moved fast, trying to calm the crowd.
The fear was spreading — fast.
Some had already begun to run.
Civilians whispered, grabbed loved ones, scanned the trees as if monsters might crawl from the bark.
Under the weight of panic, all eyes turned to Arvind.
They didn't shout.
They didn't beg.
But they looked at him like a savior —
—and all he'd ever been was someone who didn't know how to walk away.
Seeing their anxious faces — Shankar's worry, the knights' quiet discipline — Arvind's instincts kicked in.
His past life whispered: You can't just leave them here, right?
They had come all this way, dragging hope behind them like a broken cart.
If he turned back now, it would all splinter.
Then, Shankar's voice cut through the tension:
"My lord, please enter the carriage — it's dangerous out here. You don't need to worry; the knights will protect you."
Arvind's nerves eased slightly. But something deeper — duty, pride — refused to let him retreat.
"No. How could I act like a coward while my people are in danger? I'm going with Aldric and the others. Don't try to stop me. I've decided."
Shankar looked helpless, anxious in the face of his young lord's stubbornness.
Aldric exchanged a glance with Faelan.
Childish.
Faelan smiled bitterly, watching Arvind's expression.
Arvind sighed and stopped arguing — but the screams from the village still echoed inside him.
---
Aldric turned toward the village, sighing through clenched teeth.
Faelan followed, asking quietly:
"You're not going to help? You know our lord wants to protect the people."
Aldric grunted.
"Hah... what a shame. He's just a child. Shankar already told him to stay in the carriage. If it were me, I'd listen."
"But here he is, acting like this is some game. A little lordling playing war."
"But—"
"I know, I know. Knight's duty. But honestly? The injustice is on me. Look at this place. No future.
A cursed land, a lord with low aetheric potential — can we even survive until winter?"
His words were sharp, bitter — but not without truth.
Faelan said nothing. He didn't fully agree, but he understood.
---
Elsewhere, the civilians argued among themselves. Some questioned Arvind's choices.
Others stayed silent, eyes dim, spirits breaking before they even reached Ashford.
Some slumped to the grass, defeated.
Inside the carriage, Arvind sat in silence. The screams still echoed. His chest hurt.
I'm human. How can I not help?
He remembered his past life. The shame. The ideals.
He stood.
Anika's voice cried out behind him — but he didn't stop.
The sudden movement drew eyes. Civilians turned, confused.
Some rose and gripped anything they could use as weapons. Their hands trembled, but something in them sparked.
"No! You're the lord — how can you go? Impossible!" Aldric barked.
"Don't even think about it!"
Arvind met his gaze — silent, unyielding.
Faelan tried to smooth the tension, but it was no use.
Shankar finally stepped in, offering a compromise:
Arvind could follow — but he must stay far from the combat zone.
Arvind clenched his jaw. Nodded.
Then walked. But once they arrived, he didn't keep his distance.
---
The first thing he saw were the villagers.
Kneeling by the roadside.
They weren't wounded. But blood dripped from noses, ears, and eyes.
Some screamed over the dead. Others vomited from grief. Their bodies shook. Their souls looked shattered.
Something was wrong here.
The villagers recoiled at the sight of knights, screaming as if demons had arrived.
But none could run. Their bodies failed them. Blood poured freely.
Arvind looked up.
The sky was… wrong.
Time felt heavy, distorted — like something was draining the life from the world.
On the far side, two magical beasts grazed — casually devouring the grass. Their bodies glistened with blood.
One side held dying villagers. The other, beasts that looked almost... ordinary.
The beasts stood calmly, but everything around them withered — soil turned to dust, grass curled like old paper.
---
Aldric's eyes narrowed. He'd seen enough.
The knights drew their blades in unison. They knew this wasn't a normal encounter.
Even breathing had become difficult. The air was thick — toxic with energy.
Nearby animals and plants withered, vanished.
Everything felt wrong.
Arvind's chest tightened. His legs shook.
What is this? This feels like something out of a horror film. These beasts look harmless — but even my fighting spirit is being crushed.
A cold truth settled in: Aetherion... is terrifying. Fuck...
"You, go! Keep the lord back!" Aldric barked.
"Even if you're an aetheric, my lord — this is beyond you."
Arvind's mouth opened. Closed. Am I a fool? Or just clinging to pride while others bleed?
Faelan stepped in, gentler:
"Think of magical beasts as sources of dangerous energy — what we call aetherion.
Just being near them can overwhelm untrained people. The civilians didn't even need to be attacked."
"Please, my lord — step back."
Arvind nodded slowly, his mind unsteady. Is any of this even real? Is this how dangerous aetherion really is?
Even if the beasts were demons — he couldn't just stand still.
"Rescue the villagers. All of them. Now."
---
Subsequently, Aldric moved.
His blade roared as he slashed forward, infused with furious intent.
The male beast responded, roaring back — shaking the ground.
Aetherion surged. The pressure shattered the air. Even the knights staggered.
Aldric didn't falter.
He raised his sword, infused it with pure fighting spirit — and let it fly.
Sword Slash.
Then a pure blue glow flared to life along Aldric's blade.
The slash landed clean — slicing through scales, knocking the beast back.
But instead of pain… it brought fury.
Their eyes burned with manic rage.
The knights noticed too late — the soil beneath their feet shifted unnaturally.
Before they could react—
The ground collapsed, dragging several soldiers deep underground.
Aldric landed hard, grit grinding beneath his boots.
"Hold formation!" he barked. "Target the left flank — disrupt its stance!"
His eyes never left the beast. He exhaled slowly. One more strike—
—Then the aetherion pulse hit.
A wave of projectiles tore through the air.
Aldric raised a shield mid-dodge, but the surge blasted him backward like a broken doll.
The knights cried out.
Those who could still stand moved to defend him — but even in armor, they trembled.
They looked like children before giants.
"Shit… I can't even channel my fighting spirit!" one shouted.
BAM!
A knight was kicked straight through a bush — which split in half from the force.
Morale cracked. Despair bloomed.
Each step the beasts took shook the battlefield — and the hearts of every man still standing.
--
The female beast moved.
With a lazy sweep of her tail, she summoned a swirling storm of aetherion.
Rubble and wind howled across the field, pelting the knights like a siege.
Before they could retaliate — they were broken. Numb. Spiritless.
The male beast roared — a monstrous, bone-rattling sound — then charged.
The female stalked behind, eyes sharp, cruel.
She moved with intent. hunting Aldric.
---
Far off, Arvind and the others watched the storm roll in.
Even the civilians could feel the shift in the air.
Arvind clenched his fists.
From the corner of his eye, he saw bodies fly — knights thrown like dolls.
They fell — limp, lifeless, drained of color and spirit.
Then came the roar. The trees shook. The magical beast was coming.
"Back! Get back!" Arvind shouted, shielding the civilians.
Next — he saw her.
A child. Crying. Frozen in place.
The air turned icy. The wind howled, ripping at the trees.
Aetherion warped the world — civilians dropped, blood leaking from their noses and eyes.
The beast's gaze locked onto the girl.
Arvind didn't think. He ran. He dove — just in time — and shoved the child aside.
The beast's force struck him instead.
He flew. Hit the ground hard. Pain exploded through him.
I forgot… I'm just an apprentice. His fighting spirit flickered — unstable. His limbs refused to obey. As his consciousness faded, one thought remained:
The child is safe...
Faelan rushed in.
He grabbed the girl and fled.
He glanced at Arvind's still body and gave a bitter smile.
---
Aldric re-entered the battlefield, silent.
he saw Arvind.
He didn't speak.
His blade flashed. He lunged.
Slashing the beast's neck — then again. And again.
Four phantom slashes followed, slicing through limbs and hide.
A shockwave cracked the earth. Blood sprayed.
The beast howled — once.
Later, collapsed.
Aldric turned, glared at Arvind's unconscious body, and muttered:
"Fool."
The knights limped forward, dragging their weapons.
Some saluted Aldric.
Others carved the aetherion core from the beast's chest and collected the two beasts bodies.
---
Later, Arvind stirred. Pain lanced through his body.
He cried out, half-conscious.
Anika rushed to his side, tears in her eyes.
"My lord… how could you…? What if you died? What would become of me? Of your mother?"
"You don't need to fight. That's the knights' duty. You're our lord. You protect us — you don't die for us."
Shankar entered. His voice was calm, but firm.
"You did well, my lord. If you keep that spirit… you won't be far from your father."
"But remember — you're a noble, not a hero. Your duty is to lead. To guard the future. Not to throw yourself away."
Anika applied medicine and massaged his limbs gently.
Slowly, the pain receded.
But inside, Arvind felt… hollow.
Weak. Ordinary.
He stepped outside, dragging his feet.
At that moment,
he saw them.
The villagers. Kneeling.
Their eyes, once lifeless, now shimmered with tears. Real tears.
From hardened men who hadn't wept in years.
"Every winter, we break our backs to survive. Just to feed our children. Then the beasts come. They take our food. Our animals. They killed our warriors. We… we gave up."
Another sobbed:
"We've eaten bark. Dug roots.
We were ready to die. But then…"
Their voices broke.
Their gratitude flooded him — and crushed him.
Their pain mirrored his own.
Mocked by fate. Cast into suffering they never asked for. Why me? But then — why not me?
He stepped forward.
"I am Arvind. Your lord."
"This life of misery ends here. I swear it. Anyone who tries to steal our future…
We'll crush them."
The villagers bowed, Not like peasants. Like comrades.
Their eyes no longer held fear — but fire.
---
Aldric scoffed from the side.
"Another noble speech.
Only mudlegs believe that crap."
He walked away.
Faelan stayed.
He watched Arvind with something close to hope.
Maybe… he really will become a leader.
---
At night,
Anika whispered beside the fire:
"My lord… you were so brave. You looked just like the Flamebearer."
Arvind shook his head.
He wasn't there yet. Not even close.
From afar,
Shankar watched the firelight flicker across Arvind's face.
"My lady… he really is your son."
Under the warm light,
Arvind tore the bread and drank soup in one gulp.
His mind wandered.
He remembered his father's words — to his brother:
"The next decade will be bloody. I see dangerous omens. Even the two giants may move. We can't gamble. We must protect our legacy."
His brother had nodded.
Arvind had only watched.
His eyes stared at the dancing flame. he clenched his fist.
Even Father fears what's coming.
What am I?.
Who are the two giants?
He looked toward the deep woods of Ravengarde.
What comes next?