CHAPTER 1 — THE BROKEN FIELD
Book 1 — Requiem of the Lost Revenant
Rain fell over the dead.
Not a storm—just a warm, steady drizzle that softened the scent of blood and washed thin trails of red into the mud. The battlefield stretched in every direction: shattered spears, broken shields, and bodies that had long since stopped moving.
Arin pushed himself upright.
His palms sank into the wet earth. His ribs ached sharply, as if something inside him had been cracked and forced back into place. Yet despite the pain, his body felt… stable. Grounded. As if it had done this countless times before.
He looked around.
No memory.
No name.
No sense of how he had arrived among the corpses.
But his hands—steady, calloused, unshivering—felt like they recognized this place even if his mind did not.
A low whine broke the silence.
A thin, mud-covered hound limped toward him through the field. It sniffed once, then pressed itself against his leg, trembling.
Arin blinked at it.
"I don't know you."
The dog stayed anyway.
Torchlight appeared through the haze.
Voices.
Boots in mud.
Metal scraping against scabbards.
A patrol emerged—six soldiers in cracked armor, faces strained with fatigue. Their captain raised his hand, signaling the others to halt.
When he saw Arin standing alone among the dead, with the hound leaning against him like a loyal guardian, his expression tightened.
"You there," the captain called. "Hands where I can see them."
Arin slowly lifted his empty palms.
"I'm unarmed."
"That so?" one soldier muttered, grip tightening on his spear. "Standing here like this… looks wrong."
Arin studied them.
Six men.
Fatigued stances.
Uneven spacing.
Weapons held too tightly—fear, not discipline.
He exhaled.
"I don't want trouble."
"Doesn't matter what you want," the captain snapped. "Identify yourself."
Arin opened his mouth—and nothing came. Just silence and the faint sound of falling rain.
"I… don't know."
The soldiers exchanged wary glances.
The nearest spear-tip trembled as it pointed at his chest.
"Sir, he could be a spy. Or something worse."
Arin stepped back, palms raised.
"I'm not your enemy."
But the moment he shifted, several weapons rose in reflex.
The dog bared its teeth.
"Kill the mutt," the captain ordered.
Arin moved without thinking.
He lunged forward—faster than he expected—caught the spear shaft before it struck the dog, twisted it downward, and swept the soldier's legs out from under him. The motion was smooth, efficient, almost practiced.
The soldier hit the ground with a shout.
Arin froze, staring at his own hands.
His body had reacted before he understood what he was doing.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," he said again, quieter this time.
The captain's eyes widened. "Your footwork… that wasn't normal."
"I wish I knew where I learned it."
"Tie him," the captain ordered.
Two soldiers moved forward with rope.
The dog growled, stepping in front of Arin.
"Last warning," the captain snapped.
Arin didn't resist. He extended his wrists, letting them bind him.
But as the rope tightened, the fibers darkened… frayed… and cracked apart like old rot.
The rope fell to pieces.
"Captain," one soldier whispered, "the rope—what's wrong with it?"
No answer came.
A young voice cried out instead.
"Stop! He's not the enemy!"
A boy ran toward them, slipping in the mud, a cut above his brow.
"Kavin," the captain growled. "You shouldn't be here."
The boy ignored him and rushed to Arin's side.
"He saved me earlier—before the lines broke. He's not a spy!"
Arin looked down at the boy.
"…I did?"
"You pulled me out from under a burning cart. Don't you remember?"
Arin's throat felt tight.
"No."
The captain hesitated. For a moment, uncertainty flickered across his face.
Then—
A dying soldier nearby suddenly lifted his head and hummed a broken two-note lullaby.
A fragment of something ancient.
Unfamiliar.
Yet it hit Arin like a blade of memory.
Blood and warmth.
A voice calling him brother.
A shield burning with light.
Arin staggered.
The soldier who hummed the tune died with the melody unfinished.
The field fell silent again.
"Bind them both," the captain ordered—more harshly than before.
Kavin struggled as hands grabbed him.
"You can't! He's innocent!"
Arin touched his shoulder.
"Don't struggle. It won't help."
The boy quieted instantly—surprised by Arin's calm.
The soldiers pushed them forward through the dead.
Lightning flashed across the sky.
For a brief instant, Arin's shadow stretched unnaturally, shaped not like a man but like a massive shield behind him.
Kavin froze, staring.
"…What are you?" he whispered.
Arin swallowed.
He had no answer.
Only a hollow certainty settling into his bones: