Anoby's footsteps vanished into the mist as he stepped deeper into the forest that swallowed the morning light. Above him, the branches of sandalwood trees drooped, creating a murky corridor where dew dripped slowly. The air hung heavy, the scent of moss mixed with wet wood gnawed at the walls of his empty mind. Only his breath and the whispering leaves kept him company.
He touched the blindfold once—just to make sure it was still there—then let it rest against his face. Without looking, he sharpened his hearing; every small splash of water, every drag of twigs on the ground, filled the hollow of his silent soul. His steps were quiet, as if he had become a shadow of the drooping trees.
In the distance, a glint of carved black stone flashed faintly. The stone stood like a mini tower, etched with strange symbols—a split circle, resembling an eye with a fractured side. The symbol was identical to the "one-eyed pendant" described on the village notice board. A pulse of curiosity surged in Anoby's chest: had he found the first clue?
But before he could approach, a low growl echoed. From the shadows of the trees emerged a group of crawling creatures: Tregarah, giant insects bathed in darkness. Their bodies were covered in glossy black shells, their long agile legs maintaining distance like dancing shadows. The Tregarah's eyes burned red like embers, their threatening aura piercing.
Tregarah Attack
Without hesitation, Anoby lifted himself into a defensive stance. The blindfold blocked the light, but he could map the Tregarah's movements from the subtle tremors in the air. Every stomp of the insect tore through the moss on the ground, splitting the green carpet like a natural wound. It was a call of danger.
One Tregarah hurled its body, forming a giant shadow, then slammed into the ground. The impact shattered the moss—moss scattered, green dust burst into the air. Anoby quickly grabbed the ancient iron pipe he'd carried since leaving Hina's hut. He swung his right leg at a large root, kicking until it snapped and struck the first Tregarah's claw, sending it crashing down.
Two other Tregarah lunged from the right and left. Their claws aimed for Anoby's stomach, but he ducked, twisted his body, then struck the Tregarah's abdomen with the base of the iron pipe. A loud metallic crack rang out, the dark shell fractured with a shattering thud. A burst of brief energy flowed through the pipe, strengthening the blow.
The landing wasn't perfect; fragments of the shell scraped his left arm, leaving a thin wound—but Anoby didn't care. He spun around, delivering a full-force blow through the pipe to the head of the fallen Tregarah. The sound of breaking carapace echoed, drowning the whispers of the surrounding leaves. The last Tregarah roared, then leapt back, losing the courage to strike again.
Anoby stood in the damp moss, his breath caught. Fallen leaves drifted around him, dancing between the shadows of anxiety—a brief battle that became his first mark against the darkness. He glanced toward the black stone carving; his expression flat, yet his soul churned.
Shadow Dweller: The Old Man in Green
After the darkness subsided, the silhouette of an old man emerged from behind a cluster of ferns. His robe was faded green, his face etched with wrinkles like a map of time. He carried a coarse woven bag, an old wooden staff in his right hand. His eyes—one golden brown, the other blind and frozen—looked at Anoby with solemn authority.
"Your path is blocked, shadowless hunter," he murmured softly, his voice raspy like a groaning dusk. "You come seeking truth, yet darkness already awaits."
Anoby frowned, refusing to nod or reply. The old wooden staff tapped the ground—instantly the soil around them quivered faintly. The old man stepped forward, and under the moonlight, his eyes shimmered faintly.
"The one-eyed pendant," he continued, bowing slowly. "That stone is only the first gate. Beyond the corridor, not only shadows await. There lies the Moonlight Radiance—a pure energy that deters any soul brave enough to touch the darkness."
Anoby was silent, recalling the village notice board. Moments froze in the stillness; as if their breaths were a single prolonged trumpet.
"Who are you?" Anoby asked quietly, his voice hoarse.
"The Old Man in Green," the man replied. "I am the keeper of ruins, the reader of shadows. Named with doubt, bound to no time." He pointed to the black stone carving. "Study that symbol—it is the clue leading to the Red Forest, where the Moonlight Radiance resides. But beware, young man without memory: the creature that licks shadows, eternal darkness, is already stalking you beneath the leaves."
Anoby looked at the man, the wrinkles beneath his eyes raising unanswered questions. "The Red Forest?" he murmured.
"In the years to come," replied the Old Man in Green, "the shadow incantation there will ignite. You must return—with more light in your chest. Now you must choose: continue down the shadow corridor—or return and gather the scattered lights in the village."
Without waiting for an answer, the Old Man in Green vanished into the mist. His tracks swallowed by the day, leaving Anoby frozen before the stone carving.
Delayed Glimmer of Shadows
Silence rolled in, only the rustling leaves continued to whisper. Anoby stepped forward, pressing the stone carving until its surface shimmered—its base lines burned warm against his fingertips, as if inscribing the course of the future. But before he could fully read the carvings, a faint whisper came from within a large tree:
"Child of shadow, you are too quick to ignite the light. Trust, everything takes time."
Anoby turned, but saw no one. Only gaping darkness, as if softly laughing. He stared at the tree, gathering fragments of patience. The Moonlight Radiance was still far, but his first step had opened.
Marker of the First Year
As the morning mist bloomed between the leaves, Anoby wiped the sweat from his forehead. He stood before the stone carving, letting the soft light shine upon the symbol he now understood. On the green moss carpet, he carved a number with his fingertip:
"1" ― a sign that the first year's journey in the First Dimension had begun.
The wind seeped slowly, bringing the scent of wisteria from the village. A faint memory of the white flower field danced in his mind. Anoby turned briefly westward, to the Shadow Corridor still waiting. Then, with steady breath, he descended the slope slowly—toward Rhumal Village not to return, but to plan his next strategy.
Time had not shifted far. The first year had just been inscribed; but the delayed glimmer of shadows had already begun to play with the threads of his fate. At the end of every shadow, the Moonlight Radiance waited to shatter the gloom of night.