The dense canopy of the forest rustled as Kelvin sprinted through the undergrowth, his breath ragged and labored. His right arm, or rather the stump where it used to be, pulsed with agony, the wound still fresh. Blood had long since soaked into his tattered cloak, but pain was nothing compared to the seething rage burning inside him.
"That bastard..." he snarled under his breath. "I'll make him pay for this."
The towering walls of Kingdom Marvia soon came into view. Ducking into a narrow alleyway, Kelvin pulled his hood lower over his face. The streets were still alive, albeit dimly lit under the evening sky. He ignored the wary glances from villagers as he slipped deeper into the city's hidden quarters—places where the law dared not tread.
Unbeknownst to him, a villager had taken notice of his hurried, bleeding form. That man recognized the suspicious figure moving toward the slums. Curiosity mixed with unease, and he quietly followed, keeping to the shadows.
Kelvin finally reached his destination—a secluded, abandoned section of the village where time had eroded the once-proud buildings into crumbling ruins. Another figure stood waiting in the dim torchlight, his face obscured by the deep hood of his robe.
Kelvin came to a halt, his breathing uneven. "I lost the slaves."
The robed man remained still for a moment before responding, his voice eerily calm. "This is your first failure. Don't worry."
Kelvin clenched his teeth. "This all happened because of—"
Before he could finish, the robed man lunged, gripping Kelvin by the collar. A cold blade pressed against his throat, the sharp edge barely grazing his skin.
"Did you think I'd say that?" The voice, once calm, now carried a venomous edge. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to gather those slaves?"
Kelvin's eyes burned with fury, but he dared not move. "Watch what you're doing! I lost my comrades too! My people died because of this!"
The robed man scoffed and lowered his knife. "You think I care about your comrades? They were replaceable. You've made a costly mistake."
Kelvin stepped back, fists clenched. "You bastard—"
"Consider yourself fortunate," the robed man interrupted, his tone shifting. "Lirion is dead."
Kelvin's breath hitched. "Dead? How?"
"I don't know all the details, but my sources tell me he was killed yesterday."
Kelvin cursed under his breath. "Damn it..."
The robed man turned to him, his eyes glowing faintly beneath the shadows of his hood. "Who attacked you?"
Kelvin's frustration erupted. "I don't know who they were, but they called themselves YTs."
A flicker of interest passed through the robed man's gaze. He then shifted his attention to Kelvin's missing limb. "Your hand... what happened?"
Kelvin growled. "I lost it. That bastard—"
"So you were spared? How pathetic."
Kelvin's body trembled with barely restrained rage. "Whom are you calling useless?!"
The robed man smirked. "You call yourself the most powerful gangster, yet you lost so easily."
For the first time, Kelvin fell silent. The weight of failure pressed heavily on him, but pride kept him from bowing his head. After a long pause, he exhaled sharply and looked the man straight in the eyes. "I want more power. I want to kill him myself. Help me just this once, Leon."
A chilling chuckle echoed from beneath the hood. Slowly, the man reached for his hood and pulled it back, revealing his identity.
King Leon.
The villager hidden behind a broken wall gasped, the realization striking him like a lightning bolt. King Leon?!
Leon's lips curled into a wicked smile. "You desire strength? I have something that might give you power... though I can't guarantee it. Are you willing to take the risk?"
The villager, unable to believe what he had just witnessed, took an involuntary step backward. But his foot scraped against loose rubble.
A sharp crack echoed in the empty alleyway.
Both Kelvin and Leon snapped their heads in his direction.
"Who's there?" Leon's voice was dangerously calm.
Panic gripped the villager's heart. Without thinking, he turned and bolted, weaving through the darkened alleys.
Kelvin clenched his fists. "Now what? Someone heard everything!"
Leon, unfazed, simply chuckled. "Don't worry, Kelvin. I have a plan."
The screen faded to black.
James stumbled into the village center, his breath ragged as he slammed his fists onto the cracked cobblestones. "It's him… he's behind all of this!" he shouted, his voice raw with desperation. Villagers clustered around him, eyes wide, murmuring in confusion. One of them, a kindly older man, stepped forward and said, "James! What do you want to say? Just relax and tell us clearly."
Taking a long, shuddering breath, James managed to steady himself. "It's King Leon—" he began, only to be cut off by a smooth, almost mocking voice from behind. "What about me?" King Leon's tone was light, almost playful, as the assembled crowd turned in unison.
Leon's eyes glittered with a mixture of mischief and authority. "I'm sorry. Did I surprise you?" he said, his words dripping with an enigmatic charm. A murmur of disbelief rippled through the crowd as another villager blurted out, "King, did you find our women?"
Before the questions could multiply, James raised his voice, desperate to be heard over the rising tension. "Listen to me, everyone! It's him—the one behind the kidnappings!"
"James, what are you talking about?" another villager demanded.
"I'm right!" James insisted, his voice trembling with conviction. "I saw him talking to one of the 'Whispers of Fear'. He was asking for power, for help."
Leon chuckled softly, interjecting with ease, "You saw me? Oh, you should have asked me before." His words were met with a mix of skepticism and awe as villagers exchanged glances. "Yes, he's right!" Leon continued, raising his hands to calm the growing clamor. "I did speak with someone—but not one of the Whispers of Fear. He was my man, sent to gather information on them, and I found something significant."
The crowd's mood shifted; hopeful murmurs filled the air as one villager eagerly asked, "What did you find?"
Before James could protest, a harsh voice cut through the discussion. "Shut up, James, and apologize to your Majesty!" another villager barked.
Leon held up a dismissive hand. "No need. And regarding the Whispers of Fear, I've received word that they're sending their men here." He paused, a dark smile curving his lips as he lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. "That's the trap."
"Trap?" a villager echoed in alarm.
"They're coming to seize all the remaining women and children—and to kill every last one of us," Leon explained grimly.
Panic flared briefly before he raised a calming hand. "Listen, all of you: just stay in your homes. I promise I will rescue them. Afterward, I'll secure enough food for every one of you." A ripple of relieved smiles spread through the crowd, and Leon's smirk deepened as the scene shifted.
In a shadowed corridor of the castle, Leon and Kelvin moved side by side, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. "Now, give me what you were talking about," Kelvin demanded, his voice low and edged with anger.
Leon's eyes twinkled with reluctant amusement. "I really wanted to give it to you, but…" he hesitated.
"Don't give me any damn excuses," Kelvin snapped. "You promised you'd give me what I need."
Leon leaned in slightly, his tone deceptively casual. "I'll give it to you—but it'll be useful for me as well."
"What do you want?" Kelvin growled.
Leon's smirk widened. "If you lick my shoe, then I might consider it."
Kelvin's eyes widened in disbelief. "What nonsense is that? What would I do that for?"
"Then it's goodbye," Leon said, turning abruptly.
Fury flashed across Kelvin's face. With a clenched fist and burning resolve for revenge, he hissed, "Alright… I'll do it." Leon stopped and, with a dismissive air, produced his shoe from his boot.
Kelvin dropped to one knee and, mortified yet desperate, began licking the leather. For a long moment, silence reigned as Leon's dark amusement filled the hallway. Finally, with a swift kick, Leon sent Kelvin sprawling and pressed the shoe against his face. "That's your place, you so-called thug," he sneered before striding away.
Gritting his teeth, Kelvin spat, "I did what you asked. Now give me what I came for."
Leon paused, then gestured with a curt nod. "Come with me."
They descended a narrow staircase into the hidden basement of the castle. In a shadowy chamber, Leon unlocked a creaking drawer and retrieved a small, ornate vial filled with a shimmering potion. Handing it over, he declared, "This is the source of that incredible power that will grant you victory. I reserved it for emergencies—and I think now is the time."
Kelvin hesitated, his eyes darting between the vial and his own trembling form. But the burning desire for vengeance overwhelmed his nerves, and he downed the potion in one long, determined gulp.
Within seconds, Kelvin's body convulsed as an otherworldly transformation began. His right arm morphed gruesomely into a gleaming blade, and his stature grew unnaturally tall. Flesh and bone reshaped themselves into a monstrous, fearsome form.
Leon's voice echoed in the dim light, filled with a sinister satisfaction: "It's time to show them."
The morning light barely touched the gates of Kingdom Marvia when Mark, Elisa, and Sofia arrived at the main entrance, escorting a group of captive women. Their arrival stirred immediate tension. Two heavily armored guards stepped forward, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight.
"Who are you?" one demanded, his tone harsh.
But the guards paused—astonishment creasing their features as they recognized the women, their own people, in the company of these strangers. "Why are you holding our kingdom's women?" one of the guards barked.
Hidden in the shadows just beyond the gate, a worried villager whose heart was heavy with dread for his community—listened intently, it was James. His mind raced with questions as he silently crept closer, his eyes wide with concern.
Mark stepped forward, his voice steady and resolute. "We are Aetherian Heroes," he declared. "We came here to escort these women safely."
Before the exchange could settle, more soldiers emerged from the castle, their armor clinking ominously. At their head strode General Melos, his presence commanding attention. "So, you are the heroes who saved them? We need you to come with us and report to our king. And don't worry he will reward you for your deeds."
Elisa's eyes flashed indignantly as she interjected, "We didn't do this for any reward. In truth, we weren't the ones who saved them. Someone else did."
A murmur rippled through the growing crowd. "Who is he?" General Melos pressed.
Sofia cut in softly, "He isn't with us right now. We came for a particular purpose, and now we must return— many families are waiting for their children."
General Melos's gaze swept over them, and he leaned in as if confiding a secret. "I'm sorry, but you're the eyewitnesses. You have to tell us everything about the Whispers of Fear. Don't worry—it won't take long. If what you say is true, we will escort you to your home."
Elisa's voice trembled with uncertainty. "What you guys say?"
The three heroes exchanged troubled looks. Mark broke the silence with a wry comment, "If Astor were here, he'd be lining up for that reward."
"Stop it, Mark!" Sofia snapped, her tone sharp with urgency. "This isn't the time for your jokes."
After a moment of heated deliberation, they finally agreed, albeit reluctantly. "We will come with you," they said, "but let the women go home first."
General Melos shook his head firmly. "No, they can't be released now. They were held as hostages and might have crucial information."
One by one, the women murmured their assent, ready to explain the dire situation. With that, General Melos signaled his soldiers, and the group began their procession toward the castle.
Back in the dim light of the gate, James—who had been silently eavesdropping—watched the unfolding scene with growing horror. Why are they bringing them to the castle? he wondered. Are these heroes in league with the king and the Whispers of Fear? I have to tell everyone—
He paused, his heart pounding, as the grim reality sank in. No one would believe his frantic warnings. With a heavy sigh and a mind tormented by doubt, James turned away and hurried back to his village, the weight of his secret burning in his chest.
Scene: [Inside castle ~ Outside dining room]
General Melos, strode forward and announced, "Sir Heroes! Come with me; the King is inside, awaiting your report."
As General Melos led them down a long, echoing corridor toward the dining room, Elisa's concern surfaced. "Where are the women?" she asked quietly, her eyes darting around.
"We will interrogate them in a separate room," Melos replied curtly. "Handling too many hostages in the King's presence might cause problems."
Elisa's frown softened slightly. "They're your people, obviously they'll be safe in your hands."
Sofia, ever the mediator, leaned forward. "So, where is the King?"
"Please, have a seat," the general said, gesturing to a set of carved wooden chairs around a long table. "He will be with you any second."
The trio sank into the chairs just as another door swung open. In strode a young man—barely 21—whose striking blue eyes and white hair came inside. Guards flanked him as he advanced toward the table. With a confident smile, he declared, "I don't think I've kept you waiting long. I'm Leon, King of Marvia. Please, have a seat."
As Mark, Elisa, and Sofia sat, Mark's mind raced with disbelief—Leon was only twenty-one, yet here he was, ruling a kingdom. Sofia, however, had a more pressing matter. "We have details to share about the Whispers of Fear," she began.
Leon waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, we need to know everything. But first—eat. You have done more than enough for us today. Let's talk while we break bread."
Leon clapped his hands, and soon platters of food were brought to the table. Elisa and Sofia exchanged hesitant glances, but the King's warm encouragement soon had them taking cautious bites. Mark, however, remained silent, his mind turning over the details he needed to reveal.
After a long pause, Leon leaned forward. "So, what happened?"
Mark exhaled deeply and began, "We saw them in the forest—they were transporting women, likely to sell them. Following Sofia's plan, we intervened and rescued them." He paused, his tone shifting. "Our plan was meant to be peaceful—but then Astor… Astor lost his restraint."
Leon raised an eyebrow. "Who is Astor?"
"He's one of us," Mark replied evenly.
"And where is he now? Why did he not accompany you?" Leon pressed.
Mark's jaw tightened. "We aren't exactly that close."
Leon rose and walked slowly to the window, gazing out at the darkening sky. "You risked your lives for a stranger—why?" he asked, his voice echoing in the quiet room.
Mark's eyes darkened as he recalled his father's words: 'If someone is in need, help them. Do not dismiss them as strangers, for even the smallest act of kindness may repay you in time.' "My father taught me that lesson," he said bitterly. "He was a great man—one who forgave his enemies, yet never forgave those who harmed his people."
Leon's lips curled into a wry smile. "In Marvia, there's a saying: 'The moment you take pity on your enemy could be your last moment.'"
Mark shot him a challenging look. "You sound just like Astor now."
Leon chuckled softly before changing the subject. "Now, why did you kill everyone in the Whispers of Fear, sparing only their leader?"
Mark hesitated. "It's not that we spared anyone... wait a second. I didn't say anything about sparing anyone." He warned Sofia and Elisa to stop eating but it was too late. Their head were on the table, they were sleeping. Mark leapt from his chair and drew his sword.
Leon's smirk grew as he remarked, "You caught me."
"Tell me—what did you do to my friends?" Mark demanded, his voice raw with anger.
"Don't worry," Leon replied coolly. "They are merely sleeping."
"Sleeping? Why did you do this? We never claimed to be your enemies!" Mark's tone trembled between fury and disbelief.
Leon leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You still don't understand? I was the one pulling the strings. The Whispers of Fear worked under my command, and you—your actions caused irreparable loss."
Mark's eyes widened in shock. "You orchestrated all of this? But… aren't these your people?"
Leon laughed, a cold, humorless sound. "I care for my people. Marvia's population has grown too vast. They consume, reproduce, and outstrip our resources. To control this, I have resorted to selling our women and letting the men die of starvation."
Mark's anger flared, his promise echoing in his heart. "You've gone insane! I promised to escort them safely, and I intend to keep that promise."
In a flash of motion, Mark vaulted over the table, advancing on Leon. A soldier from the left swung his sword, but Mark dodged gracefully, dispatching him with lethal precision. As another soldier attacked from the right, Mark parried and countered with a swift, calculated slash. "Not bad!" Leon conceded with a mocking tone.
"Shut up!" Mark shouted, raising his hand to unleash his next move—a cry of "Fireba—" cut short by a sudden, brutal punch to his stomach. General Melos had intervened, grabbing Mark's hand and slamming him to the ground.
"No one raises a finger to my King while I'm alive," General Melos declared, landing another harsh blow on Mark's face that sent him into unconsciousness.
Leon chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't go overboard, gentlemen. I was simply having a bit of fun."
General Melos bowed his head in deference. "I apologize, my Lord."
Leon's eyes narrowed as he continued, "The one who eliminated the Whispers of Fear is heading home. He must be in the forest. Go fetch him."
General Melos turned, then inquired, "And what about Kelvin?"
Leon's tone turned dark. "Kelvin has just been transformed. He might prove troublesome."
"My Lord, I will bring him under your command," General Melos vowed, gathering soldiers and mounting horses as he prepared to ride toward the forest in search of Astor.
Leon then issued orders to imprison Mark and Elisa, and to bring Sofia to his private chamber.
A split scene emerged: on one side, General Melos and his soldiers rode off into the forest; on the other, Astor, Lily, and Liliana advanced toward Kingdom Marvia.
The flashback faded, and the title card appears:
"Chronicles of YT"
Astor stood his ground in the dim light of the castle's subterranean corridor, his sword gleaming with determination. Across from him, Kelvin—now a monstrous abomination with a twisted, blade-like right arm—advanced slowly. His eyes burned with savage fury as he remembered Liliana, the beast girl who had taken the lives of many of his comrades.
"Change of plan!" Astor's voice rang out, clear and unyielding. "Lily, you go fetch the King. Liliana, you rescue the prisoners. I will deal with this!"
Without hesitation, Lily slipped away toward the king's chamber, and Liliana darted off toward the prison block. Kelvin's mind, however, was clouded by bitter memories; the sight of Liliana stirred deep resentment. In a flash, he leaped toward her, swinging his jagged blade in a wild arc. But Astor intercepted the attack with a deft parry of his own sword, halting Kelvin's blow mere inches from Liliana's body.
"Your opponent is me, you ugly monster!" Astor growled, shoving Kelvin back with a force that sent him sprawling back. Adopting an aggressive attack stance, Astor advanced. Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks—a violent ballet of steel and fury—until the scene blurred into darkness.
When the haze lifted, Mark awoke to a harsh reality. He found himself confined within a cramped cell, the rough stone walls closing in on him. Disoriented, he blinked at the dim light until he noticed Elisa slowly coming to consciousness beside him.
"Are you alright?" Mark whispered, his voice laced with concern as he gently reached for her hand.
Elisa groaned, rubbing her throbbing head. "Was I asleep? What happened at the King's meeting? Where are we?" She tugged at the coarse ropes binding her wrists, realization dawning as she took in her surroundings.
"We're in jail," Mark murmured bitterly. "It seems the King—beyond everything—has us locked up."
Elisa's eyes widened in alarm. "Where is Sofia?"
Mark shook his head. "I don't know… but we will find out. I promise. I'll break through these bars." He pressed his hand against the iron, summoning what little magic he could muster. "Explosion!" he intoned—but nothing happened.
Perplexed, Mark's eyes narrowed as a gruff voice from an adjacent cell answered, "It's no use. Look at your neck—you wear a slave collar. It nullifies your magic and forces you to obey your master. We've tried breaking it, but nothing works."
Elisa's voice quavered as she asked, "Then what should we do?"
A wiry man from the cell next to theirs replied resignedly, "We can only wait and hope that someone powerful comes to rescue us from that ruthless and lustful King."
"Lustful?" Mark repeated incredulously just as a burly soldier suddenly slammed his hand on the cell bars. "Keep quiet!" the soldier barked.
Mark's eyes flared. "Let me out, or you will—"
"What will you do?" the soldier challenged. "Don't worry; you'll be out soon… though you might be sold."
Before another word could be exchanged, a distant voice of alarm pierced the stale air: "Intruder!" A guard outside, previously taunting Mark, spun around in alarm. Seizing the opportunity, Mark lunged forward, his hands gripping the guard's neck as he dragged him to the bars, pressing him until he slumped into unconsciousness.
Snatching a set of keys from the fallen guard, Mark quickly unlocked the cell door. "I won't be sold out—because I'm priceless," he muttered, retrieving his sword. With a swift slash, he cut through the ropes binding Elisa. Once freed, she quickly joined him, and together they set about liberating the other captives.
The freed prisoners huddled together, their eyes full of terror at the thought of facing King Leon. Mark's voice rose above the murmur of frightened whispers: "Don't fear. No matter what happens, I will protect you at every cost."
In that moment, a small child tugged at Mark's robe. "Uncle Mark, when will we go home? I want to see my mom and dad," the little one pleaded softly.
Mark knelt and patted the child's head gently. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You'll see your mom and dad very soon, I promise."
Then, his tone grew fierce as he addressed the assembled crowd of rescued villagers. "I need your help in this battle. It's up to you—will you fight with us, or wait for them to kill you? I am an Aetherian warrior. I don't back down from battle. Tell me—are you with me?"
A resounding cheer erupted, echoing off the cold stone walls. "Yes!" they all cried in unison.
"Then pick up your weapons and follow me," Mark commanded. As he turned to lead them out of the cell, a heavy thud stopped everyone in their tracks—a soldier's body had collapsed in front of him.
Before they could react, Liliana appeared at the cell door. "Are you guys okay?" she asked urgently.
Mark's eyes narrowed. "Liliana, what are you doing here?"
"I'm here to rescue you," she replied curtly. "But where is Lady Sofia?"
Mark shook his head slowly. "I don't know… When I woke up, it was just the two of us. Perhaps Sofia is somewhere else. We need to find her."
Liliana's gaze hardened. "Then first, let's get these people out of the castle. Our master is still fighting at the entrance. Let's go."
Mark hefted his sword once more, and Elisa gripped her staff tightly. "Let's go," she said. With that, the rescued villagers followed their determined leader out into the uncertain corridors of the castle.
As Mark led the group toward the main entrance, his mind raced with worry. "Where could Sofia be?" The memory of a prisoner's desperate words echoed in his mind: We can only hope someone powerful comes to save us from that ruthless and lustful King.
Mark clenched his jaw, shaking his head violently. "No, it won't happen. I won't let him hurt my friend." His resolve hardened. "I know where Sofia could be," he said aloud, turning toward Elisa and Liliana.
Liliana met his gaze and nodded in silent trust.
Meanwhile, in the grand chamber of the castle, Sofia lay unconscious on King Leon's luxurious bed, her breathing slow and steady. Standing beside her, Leon's eyes glowed with hunger as he removed his robe and stepped closer. A twisted smirk curled his lips as he reached out, running a finger from Sofia's forehead down to her chin.
"How can such beauty not belong to anyone?" he murmured, tracing the delicate contours of her face.
A soft stir beneath him. Sofia's eyelids fluttered open, her vision hazy. As she focused, she found herself staring into Leon's face, far too close for comfort. Alarm shot through her, and she bolted upright.
"What happened?" she gasped, her pulse quickening. "Why am I in your room?"
Her fingers instinctively reached for her neck, where cold metal bit into her skin. "Why… why is there a slave collar on me?"
Leon chuckled, stepping back slightly, reveling in the confusion. "Your friends sold you," he lied smoothly. "That Mark fellow said, We have to go home, but we don't have carts and supplies." Leon paused, watching her reaction before delivering the next blow. "Then he offered you in exchange."
Sofia's face contorted in shock. "You're lying. My friends would never—"
Leon tilted his head, feigning sympathy. "You trusted them, and now look where you are." He took another step forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Now, you belong to me."
Sofia flinched as Leon reached out again, placing a single finger on her forehead. "And you have to obey me."
Without thinking, she slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!"
A sharp jolt of pain surged through her body. Her scream was brief as she collapsed back onto the bed, her limbs momentarily paralyzed from the shock. Leon towered over her, shaking his head.
"It's no use," he said in mock pity. "The collar enforces obedience. If you resist, you suffer. Now, don't struggle. I will make you my Queen—a beautiful Queen of this Kingdom." He knelt beside her, his hand pressing firmly against her shoulder. "So please… just lay down."
Sofia's eyes burned with defiance. "What the hell are you talking about? I don't want to be your Queen!"
She attempted to push herself up, but Leon's hand shot to her throat, forcing her back against the mattress. His grip tightened, his breath dangerously close. "Didn't I tell you to lay down?" he hissed. "This is my kingdom. Here, no one disobeys me."
Sofia thrashed against him, but Leon was far stronger. The smirk returned to his face as he reached behind him, drawing a dagger from his belt. The cold metal pressed against her throat, freezing her in place.
"So, do I have to do this forcefully?" he taunted.
Tears welled in Sofia's eyes as she trembled beneath him. Leon's smirk deepened as he slowly lowered the knife, slicing through the delicate fabric of her dress. A tear slid down her cheek as she clenched her fists, desperation rising like a storm inside her.
Save me…
Faces flashed through her mind—Mark, Elisa, Liliana, Lily—and then, finally, Starmon. A whisper, barely audible, slipped from her lips.
"Please… save me, Starmon…"
The screen split into three:
Sofia lying helplessly on the bed, her fate hanging by a thread.
Lily, slicing through castle guards, her path leading straight to the King's chamber.
Mark, Elisa, and Liliana, leading the prisoners—villagers, Aetherian children, and refugees from other kingdoms—toward the main entrance, determined to escape.
TO BE CONTINUED…
"Chronicles of YT"
Episode Title: Marvia's Arc I