More than three hundred years had passed
since the shadow of Calamyr spread across the eastern lands.
In the village of Veridian Veil,
the sun was slowly sinking,
brushing the horizon with soft shades of orange.
The towering wooden walls cast long shadows,
embracing the village like arms that never loosened
from their grip of fear.
Yet tonight was different.
Inside the village,
people were busy with preparations.
Laughter, chatter,
and the sound of wood striking wood
echoed from every direction.
Lanterns were hung along the trees
and beneath the rooftops,
their warm golden light spilling across the ground—
as if trying to drive away the darkness
creeping beyond the forest's edge.
In the heart of the village,
a statue of Tyra—
the Goddess of Earth and Fertility—
stood tall upon a stone pedestal.
Her expression was gentle and serene,
an olive crown resting upon her head.
Time had worn her surface,
yet she was still carefully polished
and adorned with fresh flowers.
Around the sacred platform,
rows of market stalls lined the paths.
The scent of food filled the air,
while merchants' voices competed
with the melodies of folk music.
It was the Festival of Gratitude to the Earth—
the one night each year
when people allowed themselves
to set aside their fear
and believe that tomorrow
there would still be harvests…
and that tonight
they would be safe.
To the east of the village,
within the military training grounds,
the atmosphere was entirely different.
A new duty roster had been posted
on a wooden board by the instructors.
The notice was clearly divided into two groups,
assigning personnel so that everyone
could take part in the festival
without neglecting their duty
to defend the village.
Though it was a night of celebration,
swords still had to remain within reach,
and eyes had to stay fixed
on the shadows beyond the walls.
For no one could forget that
beneath the warm glow of lantern light,
the same old world…
was always waiting for a chance
to devour carelessness.
Inside the military training grounds,
the rhythmic sound of wooden strikes
still echoed across the practice yard.
The sun had sunk low,
its orange light slipping through the wooden fences.
An instructor walked toward
the notice board at the center of the yard
and slammed a new wooden sheet onto it.
Thud!
"Festival watch duty!" the instructor shouted.
"Two shifts. Check your names and report accordingly.
No arguments."
The trainees rushed forward to read the list,
including Ryn's group.
Dorn crossed his arms as he scanned the names,
then nodded.
"First shift… Ryn, Dorn, Sil."
Sil stood quietly behind them,
offering only a small nod in response.
Before anyone could say another word,
Marek pushed his way forward to check his own name.
He let out a long sigh,
as if the world were about to collapse.
"Damn it…"
He ran a hand through his hair.
"Second shift. With Tarin."
Tarin raised an eyebrow,
a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
"Isn't that a good thing?
You get to spend the night with me."
"What's good about that?!"
Marek shot him a glare.
"I have a date tonight!
And she's on the first shift!"
Dorn let out a short laugh.
"Then whose fault is that?
You picked Festival Night."
Marek's face grew even more troubled.
"Someone, anyone—
please swap shifts with me.
I'll owe you my life!"
Dorn raised a hand.
"Don't look at me. I'm not switching."
All eyes turned to Ryn.
The young man stood quietly,
staring at the notice board for a moment
before speaking in a calm voice.
"I'll switch."
Marek spun around instantly.
"Really?!"
Ryn nodded.
"I don't have any plans."
Tarin froze.
"Wait— Ryn,
you're taking the second shift with me?"
"Yeah."
Marek nearly jumped in to hug him,
but Dorn pushed his head away first.
"Easy there. Don't get dramatic."
Marek laughed broadly.
"Thanks, Ryn!
I'll treat you to some grilled meat!"
Ryn replied simply,
"No need."
Tarin studied him for a moment,
then offered a faint smile.
"You do know
the second shift is quieter than it looks."
Ryn glanced up at the sky,
now darkening into a deep red.
"That's fine."
Sil, who had been silent the entire time,
spoke softly at last.
"…Be careful."
Ryn nodded once more.
When the sun finally sank beyond the horizon,
its last light swallowed by the forest's edge,
the entire village seemed to awaken once more.
Torches were lit along the walls and pathways,
their flames dancing in the night.
Folk music blended with laughter,
and people poured out of their homes,
their colorful garments painting the evening with life.
The scent of grilled food filled the air.
Ryn walked beside Tarin,
pushing through the cheerful crowd.
Children ran past in playful chases,
villagers raised their cups in celebration,
as if they had forgotten—
that the cursed mountain
still stood not far away.
"Just a few more years until we're eighteen,"
Tarin said, glancing at a stall selling wooden toys.
"Have you thought about what you'll do next?"
Ryn fell silent for a moment
before answering honestly,
"No."
Tarin let out a soft laugh.
"Same answer as always."
Ryn glanced at the crowd.
"Orphans like us…
don't really have many choices, do we?"
Tarin nodded in understanding.
"Undergo the Rite of Power,
then head to Central for great glory."
Ryn said nothing.
Tarin slowed his steps
and turned to look at his friend.
"How about this?
Why don't you become a strategist with me?"
Ryn froze.
"That doesn't suit me."
"It does," Tarin said confidently with a smile.
"You read the battlefield well.
You just don't realize it."
Ryn shook his head.
"I don't like complicated thinking like you do."
Tarin laughed.
"True.
Every time I play strategy games,
the instructors get headaches."
"And you never lose,"
Ryn added.
"Of course."
Tarin shrugged.
"Winning without wasting strength
is an art."
As the two continued walking,
a clear, gentle voice called out from the side.
"Ryn?"
Ryn turned toward the sound.
Liora stood beneath the torchlight,
her long, pale hair glowing softly.
She wore a bright smile,
her eyes sparkling.
Two other girls stood beside her—
Elin and Mira.
"Here to enjoy the festival?" Liora asked.
"Yeah," Ryn replied simply.
Tarin smiled in greeting.
"Looks like we're on duty tonight too."
"Yep," Elin laughed.
"Second shift. East Gate.
The most boring post."
Liora nodded.
"So we decided to have some fun before heading out."
Tarin paused slightly.
"The East Gate?"
"Mhm," Liora replied.
"Why? Is there something wrong with it?"
Tarin raised an eyebrow.
"Seems like fate has a strange sense of humor."
Liora chuckled softly.
"Let's hope tonight stays peaceful."
Ryn glanced toward the eastern wall,
where torchlight flickered in the wind.
"It probably will."
Mira whispered quietly,
"Then we should go.
We don't want to be late."
Liora turned back to Ryn.
"See you at the gate."
Ryn nodded.
"See you."
The two groups parted ways,
heading in opposite directions,
while music and laughter
continued to echo through the night.
Time passed in quiet silence
until the second shift arrived.
The young guards of the first shift
descended from the walls one by one.
Some smiled, some waved goodbye,
before hurrying back toward the festival,
where music still echoed without pause.
"Good luck!"
someone shouted before disappearing
into the glow of the torches.
Ryn and Tarin took their positions
at the East Gate.
The night wind carried the damp scent of the forest
to their noses.
On the wall above,
Ryn suddenly halted.
A soldier sat leaning against a wooden pillar,
his silver armor faintly reflecting the torchlight.
His sword rested beside him carelessly,
his posture relaxed, almost as if resting—
yet his eyes were fixed on the forest line ahead.
Unblinking.
Still.
And unwavering.
Tarin, who had been walking behind,
froze in wide-eyed shock.
"H-Hey… that's—"
He lowered his voice without realizing it.
"Sir Richard…
an Arch Knight!"
Tarin turned to Ryn,
his excitement barely contained.
"Do you know?
One Arch Knight can take down
hundreds of Calami Feral
all by himself!"
Ryn didn't respond.
His gaze remained locked on the knight
as he walked to his own post,
not far from Richard.
Tarin hesitated for a moment,
but curiosity defeated hesitation.
He stepped closer and spoke carefully.
"Um… Sir Richard."
The Arch Knight opened his eyes slightly,
his sharp gaze flicking over.
"What is it?"
Tarin swallowed.
"Is it difficult…
to become an Arch Knight, sir?"
Richard looked between the two boys
before giving a faint smile.
"Whether it's difficult or not…"
His eyes shifted to Ryn,
then closed once more.
"You won't escape it either way."
Tarin froze.
"No matter what," Richard continued,
"boys like you
will end up in Central for training."
Tarin took a deep breath
and spoke quickly,
as if afraid to miss the chance.
"I want to become a strategist, sir.
That's what I'm good at."
Richard opened his eyes again,
this time studying Tarin carefully,
before letting out a low chuckle.
"If you truly make it to Central,
come find me again."
He tilted his head slightly.
"I'll recommend you to a good instructor."
Tarin's eyes sparkled instantly.
"Thank you very much, sir!"
Richard said nothing more.
He simply turned his gaze
back toward the dark forest ahead.
On the wooden walls of the East Gate,
the front line was formed by soldiers,
their bodies pressed close as living shields.
Spears pointed into the darkness ahead.
Behind them stood the mages.
Liora, Elin, and Mira sat spaced apart in neat formation,
their swords resting across their laps,
their eyes fixed forward in calm focus.
The atmosphere remained silent—
so silent that even the faintest whispers
along the wall sounded unnaturally loud.
"Probably nothing will happen tonight."
"It's just a normal watch…"
No one expected that disaster
was already creeping closer in silence.
Richard opened his eyes in an instant,
his previously relaxed posture snapping upright.
He frowned—
not because he saw something…
but because he saw nothing at all.
The silence…
was too perfect.
"Stay alert," he said quietly,
yet firmly enough for those nearby to hear.
Several soldiers stiffened,
their conversations dying out without a word.
And then—
a thunderous roar
erupted from the forest line ahead.