The horses galloped at the speed of the wind, kicking up clouds of scorching desert sand. The relentless thundering of hooves vibrated through the ancient heart of the desert. A massive royal army pursued them, the clashing of their armor and the glint of their unsheathed swords sounding like a herald of death. Above the howling wind, the general's shouts could be heard—their objective was singular: to recover the mysterious 'Kimon' power source now held by the two fugitives. Mounted on their horses, the pair rode desperately toward the rugged mountains, their bodies covered in layers of dust and the dark, dried stains of blood, proving how long and hard they had fought.
As the horses stepped onto the dilapidated ancient hanging bridge, the creaking of the wooden planks made their hearts race. The freezing wind from the bottomless abyss below chilled them to the bone, but there was no time to look back. Once they crossed the bridge and reached the peak of the treacherous mountain, the army surrounded them. The sky seemed to shrink under a forest of swords and the roar of charging cavalry.
Standing at that mountain peak was Sakumi. Her beauty was legendary, spoken of in whispers across the kingdom. Countless princes had risked their kingdoms and lives just for a single glimpse of her. But today, that ethereal face was pale and dusty, her eyes filled with unyielding determination mixed with deep sorrow. Her silky black hair whipped wildly in the wind, giving her the appearance of a celestial goddess on a battlefield. Leaving behind the luxury and perfumes of the palace, she stood on this harsh terrain solely to protect that absolute power—the last heritage of her bloodline.
Suddenly, the color of the sky shifted to a bloody red. The ancient power in the hands of Sakumi's companion could no longer be contained. The howling of the wind was no longer a mere breeze; it was a portent of an ominous cataclysm. The mountain earth split in two. Driven by an ancient vengeance, a massive dark rift tore through the heart of the peak. An indescribable chill emanated from the chasm. As bolts of blood-red lightning struck the summit, a massive explosion reduced everything to dust. Sakumi, the vast army, and those two mysterious fugitive souls—all vanished into the womb of eternity in an instant. For 4,500 years, every particle of the wind has carried the weight of that terrifying memory, an ominous echo waiting... to awaken once again.
"Sima! Hey Sima... open your eyes! Hey man, what happened to you?"
Sima regained consciousness under the relentless shaking and the sound of that very familiar, friendly voice. It felt as if he were being thrust back into the light from a cold, dark hole thousands of feet deep. Opening his eyes, a blurred sky appeared before him. But there was no crimson glow in this sky; instead, the scorching noon sun stung his eyes. Leaning over Sima was his best friend, Kima. Sweat stood on Kima's forehead, and fear was clearly etched on his face. Sima realized he was lying in the mud and dust by the roadside. A few feet away, his old blue bicycle lay crumpled, its back wheel still spinning in a strange, rhythmic hum.
Kima, frantically trying to pull Sima up, said, "Hey Sima, get up! What were you thinking about while riding that you fell and passed out like this? For a second, I thought you were dead! Who meditates in the middle of the road like this?"
Sima tried to speak, but his throat was bone dry. The explosion on the mountain peak and the sound of horse hooves still echoed in his ears. With Kima's help, he struggled to stand on trembling legs. His head was throbbing violently, as if someone were hitting his brain with a hammer. Sima muttered unclearly, "I'm... I'm okay, Kima. Everything just went black suddenly. It felt like a bunch of horses were running all around me. Someone seemed to be calling me."
Kima looked at him in surprise and touched his forehead. "Horses? Man, where are you going to find horses here? This is our school road! I think the sun got to your head. Come on, wash your face and hands. The teacher won't even let you into class looking like this."
For the rest of the day after returning from school, Sima was in a deep daze. The teacher's lecture or the chatter of friends—nothing reached his mind. After returning home, even his mother's sharp scolding and his sister's surprised looks didn't bother him in the slightest. He went straight to his room, locked the door, and slumped onto his bed. Outside the window, the sky seemed to turn dark much faster than usual today. Before the afternoon ended, a strange silence engulfed the entire neighborhood.
Suddenly, strange images flashed before Sima's eyes. The corridor of an unknown but royal palace, an ancient heavy sword held in hand, and the heart-wrenching screams of people all around. These memories weren't his; he was certain of that. Yet, every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself as part of that world from 4,000 years ago. Especially that girl—Sakumi. Why did his heart skip a beat at the sound of that name? He could see Sakumi reaching out her hand, calling him from a deep abyss.
"Sima! Are you still lying here like a dead man?" Kima's loud kick and shouting at the door broke Sima's trance.
Kima entered the room and sat on the edge of Sima's bed, holding two ice creams. Kima laughed and said, "What's up, did you leave your brain on the road after taking that fall? I came to check on you, and you're lying here like a tragic hero!"
Sima sat up. Seeing Kima made the unrest in his mind subside a little. "No, Kima, I just feel a bit sluggish. I was having a weird dream. Everything feels so real."
Kima took a bite of his ice cream and looked at Sima's face with deep concentration. Then he suddenly became serious and said, "I'll hear your dream later. But have you noticed your pupils have turned a strange bluish color? They weren't like that when you fell this morning!"
Startled, Sima jumped off the bed and stood directly in front of the mirror. He saw his reflection, but deep in his own eyes, he clearly saw that same mysterious bluish glow from the mountain peak 4,500 years ago. Sakumi's sorrowful but steady gaze seemed to be trying to tell him something from within his own pupils. Kima was still busy talking about school, but Sima knew—tonight would not be an ordinary night of his life. The 'Kimon' power seeds dormant within his body were now preparing to grow into a massive tree. The wheel of an ancient curse had begun to turn once again.