RE:001 : DURMOUNT ARC
A cold, misty night settled over the small nation of Kurnov. An owl hooted in the distance as smoke curled lazily from the chimney of a humble bungalow. Inside, a small white-haired boy with red eyes pressed his face to the window, sighing softly.
"Huh? When's the rain gonna stop?" he asked his mother, who was cooking a few meters away. She had long silver hair and deep crimson eyes, dressed in simple, casual clothing.
"Soon, Leon dear. Soon," she replied gently as she stirred the pot and set the lid over it.
The boy leapt from the sofa to the floor. "You know, 'soon' could mean tomorrow… or the day after… or even a year from now!" he groaned, grabbing a cup of water, drinking quickly, and setting it back on the table.
"Exactly," his mother replied with a knowing smile.
"Why are you in such a rush?" she asked.
"Well… tomorrow we've got a class trip to Auturia!" the boy exclaimed excitedly.
"Auturia? Oh, the land of water," she said softly.
"Yes!" he beamed as he walked up to her.
"It does sound interesting," she smiled.
"No parents allowed, though. Those are the rules," he added.
"I know, I know," she chuckled, and the two of them laughed as the evening light dimmed.
"Goodnight, Leon dear," she said tenderly as she tucked him in.
"Night, Mother," the boy mumbled sleepily.
She smiled, closed the door, and quietly left the room.
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The next morning was total chaos.
"Mother! I can't find my socks!" Leornars screamed, bolting out of his room with one sock on and carrying a single shoe.
"How am I supposed to know where you left them?" she replied quickly as they both began searching.
"Found it!" she called, handing it to him.
He pulled it on and bolted out the door.
His mother looked around at the mess left behind, then suddenly panicked.
"LEORNARS!? LEORNARS!" she shouted as she ran outside.
The boy had stopped halfway down the road, hearing her call. A man appeared behind him, drawing a bow. Just as he aimed to shoot, a knife flew through the air, piercing his throat. The man collapsed instantly.
Leornars froze in terror, staring at the corpse, before his mother appeared, holding a small bottle of strange blue liquid.
"How many times must I tell you—never leave the house without your dye!" she scolded, frustrated and relieved.
"I'm sorry, Mother… I won't do it again," Leornars said sadly.
She sighed, softened, and poured some of the liquid onto his white hair. It turned black as the dye took effect. She sealed the bottle.
"Now go enjoy your trip. Just… avoid getting your head wet," she said gently.
"I will, Mother!" he promised, tucking the bottle into his backpack and running off.
She watched him from afar, then turned to the corpse on the ground.
"Almost forgot about you," she muttered, dragging it to the river and tossing it in. The current carried it away.
How long until he's old enough? she wondered.
That evening, Leornars came running home. His mother was in the back garden, finishing her chores.
"Leon?" she called as she saw him sprinting toward her.
He smiled brightly. That night would be a special one for him.
Just like always, it was just the two of them.
Emalian Seers Avantris—his mother—stepped out from the kitchen, and as she did, all the lights in the bungalow went dark. In her hands was a birthday cake with a glowing candle. On it was the inscription:
"Leornars Servs Avantris – 8 Years Old"
The boy's face lit up with joy.
"What's your wish?" she asked after he blew out the candle.
"A world where you can walk freely… without fear, without hiding," he said earnestly.
Her expression darkened for a moment—but then she smiled and held herself together. An hour later, he was fast asleep in bed.
The next morning, Leornars rushed to school and joined his friends: a red-haired boy, a blonde girl, and a black-haired boy. During recess, as they played on the monkey bars, a group of older kids approached them.
"Move. We wanna use the bars," one of the bullies growled.
Leornars was about to leave, but one of his friends spat at the bullies. A fight broke out. Leornars stepped in to protect his friend—but one of the bullies splashed a bottle of water on him.
His dyed hair began to turn back to white.
Panic-stricken, he fled to class and reapplied the dye, hoping no one noticed.
But during class, his friends grew distant. The other students avoided him. He walked to the lavatory, and as he left, he overheard teachers whispering: a white-haired woman had been attacked by the townsfolk.
Leornars broke into a sprint.
He ran to the forest—only to see smoke rising in the distance.
"No…" he gasped, racing toward the source.
When he arrived, his home was in flames. His mother was bloodied and bruised, slumped near the fire.
"MOTHER!" he screamed.
She looked up, weakly. "Leornars… aren't you supposed to be in school?"
"What happened?! Why are you hurt? Who did this?!" he cried.
"They're hunters… They kill our kind," she said weakly.
"I know… but why now? Why are they here?"
She placed a hand on his cheek. "Listen to me. I may not be your birth mother, but you… you are my son."
Leornars hugged her tightly, crying. "Even if you're not… you still are my mother."
Suddenly, a man from the crowd grabbed Leornars and threw him aside. He dragged Emalian by the hair. She screamed in agony.
Leornars hit a rock, bleeding, but staggered to his feet. He rushed after her—only to be kicked hard in the stomach.
"What about the boy?" a man asked.
The one dragging Emalian nodded.
Two large men grabbed Leornars. He resisted, but they beat him down, then lifted him off the ground.
"Why are you doing this?!" he screamed.
They only laughed.
Leornars recognized their faces. These were the townspeople. His neighbors.
He gnashed his teeth in rage as one of them raised a club—and struck him unconscious.
Leornars awoke tied to a pole.
His eyes widened at the scene before him. His mother—bruised and broken—was being whipped.
"Citizens of Kurnov," a man bellowed. "Today marks our solitude—our freedom. The final day this witch draws breath. Let us rejoice in our liberation from this apocalypse!"
The townsfolk cheered.
"KILL HER!" they roared.
Leornars turned, horrified. The man holding the blade was the mayor—Sahara's father.
The mayor grinned, licked the edge of his blade, and approached Emalian. With a swift motion, he sliced off her hand.
The crowd exploded in cheers.
"NO! DON'T DO IT!" Leornars screamed.
His mother turned to him, smiling softly through the pain.
"Live the life you want to live… You'll always be my son," she whispered.
Then the blade fell upon her neck.
Her head rolled toward Leornars.
He let out a soul-shattering scream.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
The crowd laughed and dispersed as the deed was done.
Leornars remained, broken and trembling, eyes burning with rage.
"I'LL KILL EVERY LAST PERSON IN THIS TOWN! ALL OF YOU! I'LL MURDER YOUUUU!!!" he roared.
A man clubbed him again.
He was dragged away and tossed into a dungeon—shackled and silent in the dark.
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