The weather was so good. The gentle, thick clouds covered the sky, and an orange-colored sun was beautifully shining. But at the far end, a cluster of dark, black clouds loomed close—heavy, thunderous, probably lifting rain within. The cart cracked as it pushed over a rough rock, creaking under the pressure, and on it sat Aron and Lilith.
They had reached halfway to their destination—the great City of Training. A place known across kingdoms, where thousands gather to learn: how to make medicines, how to forge swords, and how to master swordsmanship. All kinds of people lived there—thugs, nobles, outlaws, warriors. The trees surrounding them shook softly as the wind passed through, cool and steady. Both boys sat close together, gossiping along with their older friend, Hans.
Elsewhere—
A soldier unsheathed his sword.
"Commander," he said firmly, "the darkness is moving here. Miss Celitha told us. She sensed it."
In a large stone hall, four figures sat. Three of them were male, and one was female. At the center, in the seat of command, sat a man with wild yellow hair, a scar across his cheek, and glowing yellow eyes that held years of command behind them. He didn't speak—just stared down at the table.
Scattered across it were maps, many pages, routes and war markings, and a set of cups placed perfectly beside each hand. These weren't just soldiers. They were the Four Commanders—the elite force that leads what remains of the united forces of the West.
And the one who led them all—the man with the yellow eyes—was Trail.
To his right sat Cemantha, a silver-haired woman with a piercing gaze and a sharp tongue. Next to her, the two newly appointed commanders: Marlen, broad-shouldered with a quiet menace, and Shade, thin, tall, with a grin that never seemed to leave his face. They were strong, but arrogant—each carried a heavy ego.
Shade spoke first, as he leaned forward. "Indeed... they're here. Who could have thought...?"
Marlen added, "They're moving toward us. What should we do, Trail?"
Cemantha narrowed her eyes. "The darkness... I knew it. They can't just stay still now. Not when the Flames of Hope have risen. Their whole kingdom will hunt the one destined to destroy them."
They spoke fast, tension rising. But Trail remained silent, still staring at the maps, lost in thought. His expression darkened.
Why now? he thought. Why, after all these years, does the darkness return?
Cemantha broke his thoughts.
"We should find that warrior and kill him before he grows strong."
Trail slowly lifted his eyes.
"...What did you just say?"
Only five words. Yet the air in the room turned dense. The soldiers felt it first—the invisible pressure from Trail's aura. Even the lights above flickered slightly. A shiver passed through the table.
Trail stood now. "After nearly two thousand years… a warrior capable of destroying armies… destined to become the hope of humanity... and you say we should kill him?"
His hand hit the table. The surface cracked. The sound echoed in the room like thunder.
Cemantha's voice trembled, "O-Okay... I'm sorry. It was my fault."
Trail's gaze burned. "Indeed. Try to use your brain before speaking next time. That child... is the reason hope still exists in this world."
Shade stepped in. "Then what should we do, Trail? The entire city might collapse. We need to find the child and protect him."
Trail nodded. "I know. And we all know that the only one who can bring back the ancient sword… must be a Norm. If I sense correctly… someone from the Kingdom of Norms holds the last spark of humanity's hope. And now, that kingdom is already destroyed… along with Thoms."
Marlen gritted his teeth. "Then what's the plan, Trail? How do we find him?"
Trail slowly looked toward the far window, eyes distant.
"There's only one man I can count on."
Everyone in the room went silent.
"…And that is Luxorious."
Just the name made the entire room feel colder. The soldiers exchanged glances. None dared to speak first.
"Really? Him?" someone whispered.
Trail placed both hands on the cracked table, leaning forward.
"He is the only man in the world who can match that warrior... at least for now."
A soldier entered, waiting for orders.
Trail turned his head slightly. "Go. Tell Celitha to summon Luxorious."
Far away...
A man stood alone atop the tallest roof of a ruined castle. The wind howled around him, but he didn't move. Below, the entire kingdom lay silent. Then, suddenly a blue flame lit around him. He stood up. His face remained hidden behind a black cloth mask. His eyes closed for a moment, and then—he vanished.
Elsewhere—
Aron and Lilith stood in the river, bathing under the afternoon sky. The water was cold and refreshing. It washed away the dirt of the road and their weariness. Both boys laughed as they splashed around, free for a moment from the heaviness of the world.
Lilith sighed, "Let's go. We'll be reaching the City of Training by tomorrow."
Just as he said this, Aron stopped. A whisper echoed in his mind unclear, almost like a voice from another world.
Then came the pain.
He grabbed his head with both hands. "Ahhh—!"
Lilith rushed over. "Hey! Aron! Are you okay?!"
Aron forced himself to breathe. "I'm... fine," he lied. His voice shook. Then, in a whisper only he could hear, he added, "Something terrible is coming."
And then… the atmosphere shifted.
The black clouds, thick and unforgiving, began to swallow the sky whole. The once bright, orange sun dimmed—its final rays flickering out like a dying flame. Its shine, once warming the earth, vanished. A glimpse of death passed through the wind. The darkness was coming.
Far beyond the trees, it neared the walls of Wingman City, creeping like a silent curse.
Lilith looked to Aron and offered his hand. Aron, still catching his breath, grabbed it firmly.
"Let's go, Aron," Lilith said, his voice calm but heavy. "Let's change our clothes."
Aron turned his head upward. The sky looked broken now. Something told him… this wasn't just a storm. A strange thought crossed his mind, but he let it fade.
He faced forward again. Without a word, he stepped toward their destination.
Behind them, the last flicker of sunlight vanished — and night swallowed the world.