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Volume 1 – Chapter 3: The Ashes of a New World
> "I'll burn this world... and reshape a new one from the ashes."
The boy whispered into the darkness.
No one heard him.
No one ever did.
The dungeon was quiet again. The echoes of chains rattling had long become part of the silence. Leornars slowly rose from the cold stone floor, the dim torchlight flickering against the bruises scattered across his pale skin.
In his palm, he gripped something that once belonged to a king.
An emerald chain.
A symbol of status.
He tugged.
It snapped with a weak crack.
All that remained was a simple string.
> "Step by step is the key... They think this cage confines me? I've been in worse."
His thoughts were calm, unshaken.
> "Two meals a week. For a month now. Luxurious compared to where I've been. They say the outside world is beautiful. I hope they're not lying. I expect style."
He sat back, quietly plucking the emeralds from the chain, one by one.
A heavy boot thudded outside.
The cell door creaked open.
A guard stepped in for routine inspection.
The man noticed the chain and snatched it without a word. He left just as quickly, none the wiser.
Leornars smiled.
He opened his other hand.
Inside it was the second half of the chain.
> "Mind deception... Nine years of captivity taught me well."
"Rats, cockroaches, lizards... I hid them from the guards like treasure. I ate what they'd never imagine. These gourmet meals they feed me now? Tasteless."
Clink.
The cuffs fell from his wrists with a faint sound.
He peeked through the bars.
The guard was admiring the chain in the torchlight.
Leornars slipped out.
His bare feet touched the stone with caution, bruised and bloodied. They trembled beneath him. He staggered—then stopped.
He stomped quietly, hardening his soles. Every step was training. Every motion, calculated.
And then he leapt.
He tackled the guard.
They fell together with a crash.
The guard, startled, drew his blade—too slow.
Leornars lunged with the emerald chain, even as steel bit into his left arm.
Pain exploded.
But he wrapped the chain around the man's throat and pulled.
The choking ceased.
Silence returned.
He took the sword and stepped over the corpse.
The dungeon bells screamed into the night.
Knights scattered through the castle like ants disturbed.
Leornars ducked into a nearby barrel.
Footsteps.
A guard paused nearby.
A creak.
The barrel opened.
A flash of silver—and then—
Shink!
Steel erupted through the guard's chin. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed.
Leornars crawled out, soaked in blood.
He ran.
He ran until he stumbled into a field—and stopped.
His breath caught in his throat.
A severed head.
Impaled on a spike.
The head of the clergyman who once fed him scraps when others wouldn't.
"...You were a kind old man," Leornars murmured.
Before he could move again, a hand yanked him backward—into darkness.
"Don't swing—! We're allies!"
He froze mid-swing, sword glinting in the torchlight.
Three figures stood before him.
One had feline ears and a twitching tail.
The second, sharp pointed ears and luminous eyes.
The last had green, scaly skin like a serpent's.
> "What are you?" he asked, breath heavy.
The elf stepped forward.
> "We've been waiting for you... You are 'him.' The one from the prophecy."
Leornars frowned.
> "I don't know you. You don't know me. And I don't know who this 'him' is. I don't care."
He turned to leave.
The cat-eared one stepped forward.
> "I'm Leux. Beastfolk—cat tribe."
> A talking cat... That's new, Leornars thought.
> "I'm Shuelt. An elf."
> "Crov. Reptilian." The third one gave a nod.
> "I don't have anything of value," Leornars said coldly.
> "The prophecy spoke of a silver-haired, crimson-eyed boy from another world."
He paused.
But only for a moment.
> "Eight hundred years people waited," Leux added.
> "That's a long time to waste."
He dropped the blade.
Leux chuckled.
> "Certainly is."
But time waited for no one.
A distant whistle echoed through the halls.
Footsteps.
Dozens of them.
Leornars' eyes darted around until he noticed a small hole in the wall. He bolted toward it.
A tunnel.
He squeezed in.
> "Live or die, that's your problem," he muttered, pressing on into the dark.
Leux and Shuelt followed.
But as they looked back—they saw Crov being dragged away by soldiers.
> "Don't stop! Make sure he escapes this cursed nation!" Crov yelled, defiant until the end.
Guards gave chase through the tunnel.
> "They're heading for the outer wall!" one of them shouted.
> "Block the exits! Burn the slums if you must!" another roared.
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A Palace in Turmoil
Bishop Walker stood before royalty.
The King.
The Queen.
The First Princess.
The Crown Prince.
The dungeon was empty.
Dead silence.
A knight ran in, gasping.
> "Your Majesty! The silver-haired boy... he's escaping through the outer walls—into the slums!"
> "Bring him back! I don't care if you have to burn the entire slums down!" the King roared.
The knight saluted and vanished.
> "So... are we not going to see him after all?" the Prince asked.
> "We summoned him... and now we want him dead. Ironic," the Princess muttered, walking away.
> "We claim to act on divine orders... yet persecute our own people."
Silence reigned.
---
Two Days Later
The First Princess stood at her balcony.
Rain fell in heavy sheets.
She took a breath of fresh air.
Then—movement.
A figure stepped out of the darkness.
Soaked in crimson.
Eyes void of life.
Hair once silver—now red.
He walked into the moonlight.
A dagger in hand.
"Your father killed my allies..."
His voice was hollow.
Emotionless.
The girl backed away in terror.
But it was already too late.
> "Prepare to die," Leornars whispered.
> And with that, the world began to burn.