Shink. Shink. Shink.
The rhythm was the only thing keeping Kiego going. He swung the heavy practice blade against the trunk of the ironwood tree, the vibration rattling his teeth with every strike. He had been at it since the first light of dawn, yet the bark was barely scarred. With a frustrated sigh, he lowered the steel. It wasn't the wood that was the problem; it was him.
He walked to the edge of the Sun Forest, wiping sweat from his light-skinned brow. Before him stood the Great Force Field—a shimmering, translucent veil that served as the only thing standing between the peace of Alcon and the nightmare of the Dark Territory.
Kiego stared into the gloom beyond the veil. Everyone feared that place. It was a land of eternal dusk where the sun never truly reached, home to the things that hungered for Alcon's light. During the day, the monsters stayed back, scorched by the sun, but at night they threw themselves against the Imperial Defenders. If only I could help them, Kiego thought, his fingers tightening around his hilt. In Alcon, your weapon was supposed to be your soul. To be a Defender, you had to "awaken" your blade—turning raw internal magical energy into manifest magical power. For A-Class elites, the weapon was an extension of their very will, appearing in their hands in a flash of light. For Kiego, it was just a heavy piece of metal.
"Hey, kid!" a raspy voice cracked the silence.
Kiego jumped, turning to see an old man standing a few paces back. The man's eyes were wide with a mix of irritation and genuine fear. "What are you doing? Don't go so close to the veil."
"Huh? Oh, sorry," Kiego stammered, stepping back. "I wasn't going to cross it. I was just... looking."
"Don't even look," the old man interrupted, his voice dropping to a hiss. "Do you have any idea what lies down there? That is no place for a boy."
The man didn't wait for an answer; he turned and hurried away, as if even standing near the border was a death sentence. Kiego watched him go, a shadow crossing his face. He was nineteen years old, tall and messy-haired, yet he was still being treated like a child because he couldn't pass the exams. He knew the Dark Territory was filled with Orcs, Giants, Dire wolves, Elves, and the dreaded Upper-A Class Vampires that no Defender could face alone. He knew no party ever returned from the dark. But a part of him didn't just want to defend. He wanted to understand why they hated Alcon so much. He wanted to be more than a kid with a dull sword. He wanted to be a legend. Kiego's brown hair was pulled forward, framing a face defined by a pointed nose and a quiet, masculine strength. He wasn't bulky, but the lean corded muscle of his arms spoke of years spent surviving alone. With no parents or siblings to speak of, the only person he could call a friend was Satoro, the Village Elder. He was a woodcutter by trade, though work was dangerous. The Sun Forest sat far too close to the Dark Territory, and while wood was in high demand, he rarely dared to stay long. He often dreamed of the Imperial City, but life there was for the wealthy or the Defenders—the most essential occupation in the realm.
As he swung his heavy sword, he didn't just see a tool for timber. He hoped that one day, his constant training would cause the blade to awaken to its first stage. He found himself wondering what color he would get; he desperately hoped for blue.
With five powerful swings, the tree finally groaned and succumbed to the earth.
Pong... Pong... Pong...
The evening bells echoed through the trees. It was five o'clock. The monsters usually emerged at dusk, and the villagers were warned to be behind the gates by six. Kiego worked through the fading light, surprised by his own productivity, until the sun began to dip below the horizon. By 5:30 PM, he was dragging the massive log toward the village on a makeshift wheeled board. By the time he reached the gates, the sky had turned a bruised purple. It was six o'clock.
"Hey! Wait for me!" Kiego shouted.
Satoro, the Elder, signaled his B-Class Defenders to pause. "God knows what would have happened to you if you were a minute later," Satoro scolded, though his eyes showed relief. "What were you thinking?"
"It took longer than I expected," Kiego panted. "The wood was harder this time."
"Hurry up and get inside! Don't let—"
"Satoro... what's that?" a Defender interrupted, pointing toward the Sun Forest.
A dark, humanoid figure was emerging from the shadows. As they watched, the figure suddenly split into two. Satoro and the B-Class Defenders froze. The figures moved with an eerie, slow pace. Then, one reached behind his back and notched an arrow into a bow.
"RUN!" Satoro commanded, his voice a low, vibrating growl.
The figure released. Two arrows hissed through the air at the speed of light. Satoro and a Defender both caught their respective arrows—a feat of incredible reflexes—stopping the points just inches from their faces. The strange figure raised a hand and snapped.
Instantly, the arrows began to glow with a malevolent blue light. The arrow in Satoro's hand jerked forward, grazing his cheek and drawing blood. Satoro looked to his left, his heart dropping. The Defender hadn't been so lucky. The blue-glowing arrow had driven itself halfway through the man's skull.
As the Elder's face twisted in grief, the shadows of the forest began to vomit forth an entire army. The trees swayed violently as two massive Direwolves stepped out of the treeline, flanking the dark figures.
"GET BACK NOW!" Satoro screamed.
Kiego scrambled behind the safety of the gate, his mind racing as he watched the impossible force gathering in the dark.