Haru walked northward without pause.
He neither ran nor used his powers to levitate—he simply walked. Each step carried a quiet purpose, the rhythm of his boots on the earth matching the steady calm he tried to rebuild within himself.
With his eyes half-closed, he focused inward, piecing together the fragments of his mind shattered by war. The silence of the road was his only companion, broken only by the rustle of leaves or the distant cry of beasts.
Days turned into nights.
He hunted, ate, and slept—then repeated the same cycle again.
A week passed before he finally reached the outskirts of the northern region, where the Human Castle stood beyond the distant hills. Yet, he didn't approach it.
Instead, he turned away from civilization, ascending into the mountains overlooking a quiet valley where a small village lay hidden beneath the clouds.
There, he built a modest wooden cabin with his own hands—a place of solitude, far from war, far from voices.
Four months passed.
Winter had arrived, draping the mountains in white. The air was sharp, the world silent.
Haru continued to train through the cold, his sword carving lines through the falling snow. Even in solitude, he did not allow his body to rest for long. Each day was another step forward—each night, a brief moment of peace.
Though the war was over, the discipline remained.
The will to grow stronger never left him.
A full year passed since Haru settled in the mountains.
The villagers had long grown used to his quiet presence—a lone man living deep in the northern woods. They rarely saw him, yet his deeds were impossible to ignore.
When wild beasts threatened their homes—feral wolves, raging boars, or mountain tigers—it was Haru who appeared, silent as mist, his sword flashing once before the danger vanished.
To the villagers, he was both protector and mystery. Gratitude and fear intertwined whenever his name was spoken.
Rumors began to spread—first through the small settlement, then to nearby towns.
Before long, every adventurer's guild and tavern within the region whispered the same name.
---
Inside a dimly lit tavern, laughter and the clatter of mugs filled the air. A few men sat near the counter, voices low but animated.
> Drunk Villager 1: "You've heard, haven't you? About that man in the north—the one who took down the Frostfang Tiger alone. My own daughter saw him once. Said his eyes were like glass, no warmth, no hate... just empty."
> Villager 2: "Aye, I owe him my life. That beast nearly crushed me, but he—he just walked past after killing it, didn't even look back. But tell me... is he really human?"
The man beside him snorted, downing his ale.
> Adventurer 1: "Human or not, he's trouble for us. Ever since that Man showed up, there's been no work left for the guild. Every monster north of the river's been slain before we even get there. He's clearing the mountain like it's nothing!"
> Adventurer 2: "He even took down the Golden Bear, didn't he? That was a high-rank mission, supposed to be handled by four B-class teams. And he did it alone."
The first man leaned forward, lowering his voice.
> Adventurer 1: "Aye… alone. That's the part that makes me sick. It's not natural. No one fights like that. No screams, no shouts—just silence. By the time we find the bodies, it's already over."
A heavy pause fell between them, the mood darkening.
> Villager 3 (whispering): "They say he's a fallen knight… or maybe a cursed hero. Some even say he's a spirit guarding the mountain."
> Adventurer 2: "Whatever he is, I just hope he doesn't turn on us next. No one who kills monsters that fast stays human forever."
The tavern grew quiet for a moment as snow began to fall outside, thick and soundless.
Somewhere beyond the mountains, beneath the cold stars, Haru trained in solitude—unaware, or perhaps unconcerned, that his legend was already spreading among men.