(Memory Fragment: Before the Ashes Fell)
"Stop right there, you little brat!"
The shout echoed, but it carried no real malice. A small figure darted past the market stalls, clutching a steaming loaf of "borrowed" bread tight against his chest. It was Sito, ten years ago—filthy, tattered, but with eyes burning with mischievous light.
He ran for his life, his laughter ringing through the narrow alleys. Even though he was an orphan, a thorn in the side of the grumpy merchants, the small village on the edge of the Wandering Plains had never truly abandoned him.
"Next time, just ask if you're hungry! Don't steal anymore, you hear?!" The bakery owner yelled after him, his voice laced with indulgence.
He grew up in that strange embrace. The people here were poor, but their compassion was abundant. In return, Sito used his small life to protect them. On nights when wild wolves swarmed down from the hills, people saw a boy wielding a wooden stick, screaming alongside the militia, fearlessly charging to bash the beasts on their noses.
Life went on, peaceful and simple... until he arrived.
Yorite. An old blacksmith from the frozen Northern Lands. He stopped at this village and decided to build his forge right at the edge, near where Sito often roamed.
Sito, with his curious nature, visited every day to watch the old man hammer iron. Yorite didn't chase him away. Instead, he told the boy legendary tales.
"Do you know about the Holy Knights? Or the legendary dragon, Yharon?" Yorite recounted as he heated the steel, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism. "I have seen it. And I picked up this fang..."
He pointed to a pitch-black object, radiating a chilling aura, placed solemnly on an altar.
As time passed, Yorite began teaching Sito martial arts. Not street fighting, but rigorous, brutal training. "Carry that boulder up the mountain and come down before sunset!" "Stand under the waterfall until your legs go numb!" He forged the boy's body, turning him into a durable machine, while spending his nights pouring his soul into forging that dragon fang into a sword.
Sito believed him. He saw him as a father, a mentor.
But destiny has a cruel sense of humor.
That day, Sito overslept. His house was deep in the forest, far from the village. When the sun was high overhead, he finally rubbed his sleepy eyes and strolled down the mountain as usual.
But there were no greetings. No smell of fresh bread. Only the stench of burnt flesh and ash choking the sky.
The bustling village of yesterday was now a flattened graveyard. The fire had died down, but smoke still rose from the charred corpses littering the ground. No one survived.
Sito froze. Then, he ran like a madman toward Yorite's forge.
The blacksmith's house had collapsed. Under the rubble, he found Yorite's body. The old man had died in the fire, reaching out toward a hidden cellar, as if trying to protect something more precious than his life.
Sito shoved the charred corpse aside and dug through the ashes. Beneath lay a cold iron chest. He opened it.
Inside lay a magnificent pitch-black sword. The blade seemed to devour the light, and the handguard was shaped like two crescent moons. Yorite's final masterpiece—the sword forged from Yharon's fang.
And next to it was a diary.
Trembling, Sito picked it up. Every line was a knife stabbing into his heart.
...There is no son. There was no tragedy in the North......I stole this fang from Acnologia's treasury. He is hunting me......These stupid villagers will be the perfect sacrificial lambs to buy time. And the boy, Sito? His physique is decent. He will be the living vessel, a potential candidate to be offered to Acnologia to appease his wrath......This sword is not a gift. It is a weapon for me to stab Acnologia in the back while he is eating the bait (Sito)...
"AAAAAA!!!"
Sito screamed, a sound that tore through the silence of death. He shredded the diary, throwing the paper scraps into the air. It was all a lie. The mentorship was a lie. The training was a lie. He was just a pig being fattened up to be dragon bait.
He survived only because... he woke up late. His laziness had accidentally saved his life, while the innocent villagers—the ones who truly loved him—were incinerated to cover up a traitor's crime.
Sito didn't cry. His tears had evaporated with the fire.
Days later, he buried every villager alone. As for Yorite... Sito gathered the old man's ashes, walked to the riverbank, and casually dumped them for the fish to eat. "Eat up. That's all he deserves."
Holding the black sword—the evidence of betrayal and pain—Sito swore to the spirits of the village. He would live. He would get stronger. And he would take revenge for everything lost.
[Present Time]
"CRASH!"
A sharp sound rang in Sito's head, like a glass pane shattering. The memories of the burnt village, the traitorous blacksmith, and the grave of ashes instantly vanished.
Sito froze on the dark path. The chill of memory was replaced by a different, more tangible coldness: Killing Intent.
The air around him thickened. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
"Damn it. Talk about perfect timing."
Sito hissed through his teeth. His hand gripped the hilt of The Fang of the Lone Wolf so tight his knuckles turned white. He spun around, staring back at the path he had just walked.
GRRRRR...
From the black mist, a pair of eyes glowing red like hot coals emerged. Following them was a pitch-black body, muscles rippling under bristling fur. A Spectral Wolf (Rank E+), but this one was significantly larger, radiating an overwhelming aura of malice. It looked at Sito, drool dripping onto the ground, sizzling as it hit the dirt.
Sito smirked, his eyes cold as ice: "Is that my breakfast?"
As if understanding the provocation, the wolf let out an earth-shaking roar and lunged. Its speed was so fast it left an afterimage. Razor-sharp claws aimed straight for the boy's jugular.
Sito didn't retreat. He lowered his center of gravity, his thumb gently clicking the blade out of its sheath.
"Wolf's Fang."
SWISH!
A pitch-black line, thin as a thread, sliced through space. There was no sound of metal hitting flesh or bone. Only the sound of the air being torn apart. Sito had already dashed past the wolf, standing with his back to it, the sword already halfway sheathed.
THUD.
The wolf's head hit the ground, rolling a few times. Its body collapsed a second later, the cut so clean that blood hadn't even had time to spray. A perfect execution with SSS Attack.
Sito exhaled, fully sheathing the blade with a Click. "Thanks for the meal. At least you're a generous sponsor for feeding me."
But the arrogant smirk hadn't even left his lips...
Suddenly, Sito's Right Eye (The Wolf King Eye) flashed crimson. The Passive Evasion skill triggered frantically, sending a brain-burning warning signal to his nervous system.
DODGE!
Sito reacted on instinct, trying to twist his body to the left. But his body... was one beat slower than his eye's signal.
SLAM!!!
A massive, jagged tree trunk, thick as a man's torso, flew out from the deep forest like a giant arrow. It smashed directly into Sito's right shoulder.
"GAH!"
Sito coughed up fresh blood instantly. He was sent flying like a ragdoll, soaring ten meters before his back slammed into another tree trunk, sliding down into the mud.
(COMMUNICATION CHANNEL: YUNNY – ON)
"Ouch! That felt expensive!"
Yunny's high-pitched voice rang out, dripping with sarcasm.
"Do you see his HP bar dropping? There, that is the price of dumping all your points into Attack and ignoring Defense. He is a genuine Glass Cannon. He can blast an enemy's skull open, but a stray log is enough to turn him into a heavily wounded patient. In Artheria, without DEF, don't dream of being a hero."
Sito lay at the base of the tree, clutching his deformed shoulder. He coughed up a large mouthful of blood, staining his cloak red. The bone-deep pain blurred his vision, but the arrogant smirk on his lips refused to fade.
He looked up toward the dark forest where the tree trunk had come from.
"No offense..." He gasped for air, his voice trembling with pain but still full of defiance. "But how long did it take you to drag that fat carcass here to find me?"
THUMP... THUMP... THUMP...
Heavy footsteps shook the ground. Trees parted, snapping like twigs. From the darkness, a colossal silhouette slowly emerged.
It stood about 3 meters tall. A morbidly obese body, stuffed tightly into a rusted Samurai armor. In its hand, it dragged a spiked kanabo club covered in dried blood. Its face was hidden behind a grinning demon mask, but on its protruding belly, a wide, gaping mouth was drooling uncontrollably.
This was a MALICE CONSTRUCT (Rank B+).
(COMMUNICATION CHANNEL: YUNNY – ON)
"Oh, look at this 'Fat Pig'. Let me explain for you folks. This is called a Malice Construct Remember the rabbit I mentioned in Chapter 1? If people believe a rabbit is a monster, it becomes a monster.
This thing is the same. It is born from humanity's fear of war, greed, and violence. Perhaps someone feared an obese, gluttonous, and brutal Samurai so much that the fear coalesced, absorbed Mana, and—BOOM! We have a walking pile of meat capable of murder at Rank B+. And trust me, it didn't come here to invite Sito to a buffet."
[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ]
📅 Release Schedule: New chapters will be unleashed upon the world at 22:07 (GMT+7) / 23:07 (Webnovel Server Time).
Why 22:07? Because heroes arrive on time, but legends arrive whenever they want (or specifically 7 minutes late).
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See you in the darkness! 🌑