A middle-aged man, wandering nearby, heard the commotion. The clash of battle and the cries of monsters. Alone but confident, he strode toward the abandoned town without hesitation. As he neared the ruined streets, his hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his long sword, ready for anything.
He stopped behind a large tree, and what he saw made his eyes widen in disbelief.
A massive scorpion monster was collapsing, its body soaked in blood and a teenage boy stood above it, equally drenched. No weapon, no magic, just raw power. The boy faltered and dropped to the ground, unconscious.
The man rushed over, but didn't notice the faint glowing tattoo on the boy's neck vanish into his skin. Without wasting time, he carried the boy away, leaving behind the corpse of the fallen beast and the smoke of a quiet, cursed town.
Time passed slowly as the night receded behind the seas. The sun rose, casting its light across the land—yet somehow, it felt dimmer than before.
The boy's fingers twitched.
His eyes fluttered open to a wooden ceiling above. Confusion settled in as his body ached all over. His head throbbed, heavy and slow, and the pain crawling through his limbs felt far too real.
With effort, he placed a hand on his forehead and pushed himself up from the bed, groaning softly.
"Where... am I?" he muttered, wincing.
Outside, a middle-aged man was finishing his morning sword routine. As he sheathed his blade, he paused—his ears catching the faint voice from inside the house.
He opened the door and stepped in.
The boy sat up on the bed, gripping his head, dazed and pale.
"Boy, you're awake. I thought you'd be out longer."
Still groggy, his mind scrambled to piece together what had happened. Last night was a blur. A nightmare? A dream? Or something far worse?
"Where am I?" the boy asked again, glancing around. "And... did you kill that scorpion monster?"
He already suspected the answer—but part of him needed to hear it. Needed to know if what he saw… what he did… was real.
The man let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. "You've got a sense of humor, huh? I can fight monsters, sure—but not like that. I saw you kill it... with your bare hands."
There was something in his voice—not just surprise, but disbelief. His eyes betrayed it too.
The boy went quiet, his throat dry and burning. "Water…?" he croaked.
The man handed him a wooden cup. Zynx drank greedily, the cool liquid easing the tightness in his chest. The man waited, then sat at the edge of the bed.
"What's your name, kid? You from Varkhaal? Aurevia?" he asked, curious. "Can't imagine any place else raising monsters like you."
The boy blinked, a flicker of memory returning—a voice calling to him. His father. His mother. A name.
A small, tired smile formed on his lips.
"Zynx… I'm from here. From the Kingdom of Tharne."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Tharne? You're joking." He leaned back and sighed. "Name's Davis. Swordsman. I live nearby—Line 7 district, just outside Tharne proper. Never thought a freak of nature like you would be born here of all places."
He laughed to himself, but the tone held something deeper—curiosity… maybe even hope.
"How old are you anyway? Fourteen? Fifteen?"
Zynx scratched his head, unsure. His mind felt like a puzzle with pieces missing.
"I think… thirteen."
Davis froze, his smirk fading.
Thirteen?
That answer hit like a punch to the gut. He stared, unable to hide his shock.
Most awakened their Sea of Soul around sixteen. Some exceptional few did it at fourteen. But thirteen?
It defied everything he knew.
He let out a long breath. "Well… damn. Rest up. We'll talk later."
Davis stood and left, heading toward the city to restock supplies.
Zynx laid back down, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts swirled in his head like a storm.
Is this Davis guy an ally… or an enemy?
He didn't have the answer. All he knew was that he needed information. Desperately.
He had lived in this cursed kingdom all his life—yet knew so little about it.
Raised in the outskirts, every day had been a battle just to survive. Knowledge was a luxury the poor never got.
Suddenly, a flash crossed his mind—a vision from his sleep.
That place again.
Still. Endless. Vast.
A realm filled with water and drifting clouds.
The Sea of Soul.
It wasn't just a dream.
It was something far deeper.
Zynx closed his eyes again and let the memory take him.