It was snowing outside. Thick, slow flakes drifted down in waves, coating the rooftops in an unbroken white sheet.
The old fireplace crackled gently in the shared room, casting flickering shadows across the wooden walls.
Raiyan sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully polishing the edge of his sword.
The rhythmic motion of cloth against metal gave him a sort of peace. Across from him, Niko lay sprawled shamelessly on Raiyan's bed, arms crossed behind his head like he owned the place.
Ezel sat on his own bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring into the fire. His eyes were unmoving, his expression unreadable. A dark calm had settled over him.
Then, suddenly—
"We need to move, Raiyan. Tomorrow."
"Huh?" Raiyan blinked.
"Whaaaaat?" Niko groaned at the same time, dragging out the word with theatrical pain. "So early? Just as I thought things were getting fun!"
Raiyan's brows furrowed. He glanced at Ezel, trying to decipher the man's reasoning. They had been here for three weeks—longer than planned, perhaps, but safe, warm, with decent food and a roof. Initially, Ezel had said they'd stay a month, maybe two. So why now?
But Raiyan didn't protest. He trusted him. Ezel had more experience, more knowledge of the world. Maybe he sensed something had changed.
"…Alright," Raiyan said softly, returning to his sword. "I'll inform the owner."
"Hey, take me with you too!" Niko sat up with a pout, making his best puppy-dog eyes. "Don't just leave me behind like some side character!"
Ezel turned to him with a sigh that bordered on annoyed.
"No."
He didn't elaborate at first. But then, with his usual sharpness, he added, "We barely have enough money for the two of us to travel. And I can't keep taking care of two people in Wena. Raiyan's with me because he lost his comrades. You stay."
Niko's face fell. For a second—just a second—there was a flicker of something genuine in his eyes. Raiyan noticed, and it made his chest ache a little.
"Hey," he said, "how about we throw a farewell party at that pub down the street?"
The words were enough. Niko perked up immediately, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Now you're talking!" He grabbed Raiyan's hand like an overexcited child. "C'mon, let's go before the old man changes his mind!"
"I didn't give permission," Ezel muttered, already lying down and pulling his blanket over his head. "Do as you please. I'm going to sleep."
The pub was small, half-buried in snow, but alive with warmth and life. Lanterns hung from low beams, laughter echoed from within, and the smell of roasted meat and spiced ale filled the air.
Niko was in his element—flirting shamelessly with the barmaid, trying (and failing) to arm-wrestle a bearded dwarf, and boasting about battles he clearly never fought. Raiyan laughed more than he expected to, letting the drinks soften his mood and wash away the weight on his back.
By the time they returned, he was stumbling. His cheeks flushed, breath hiccupping between drunken murmurs.
He collapsed into bed, still fully clothed, blade clattering against the floor.
Ezel was lying in the opposite bed. His back turned toward Raiyan—but his eyes were open. Silent. Watching the wall. Listening to Raiyan's breathing slow into sleep.
---
The wind howled like a dying beast.
A blizzard had swept across the land by the time they left, just before sunrise. The sky was pale and grey, almost indistinguishable from the snow-covered ground. Raiyan, head pounding from his hangover, still managed to wake up and move.
Before they departed, he quietly opened the door to Niko's room.
The boy was snoring gently, tangled in his blankets, a smudge of drool on his pillow.
Raiyan smiled faintly. "Take care," he whispered, closing the door without a sound.
He trudged downstairs, wrapped in fur and scarf. "The weather's bad," he said to Ezel, who was already by the horses. "Shouldn't we wait for it to calm?"
Ezel didn't respond at first. He adjusted the straps on his saddle, then turned his face halfway toward Raiyan.
"No. We move now."
His tone was firm. His eyes — distant.
Raiyan frowned but nodded. He had noticed Ezel was quieter than usual this morning. Unusually so. His words were short. He rode ahead in silence, barely glancing back.
Raiyan assumed he was being considerate of his hangover.
But something felt…off.
They rode through the cold for nearly two hours. Snow lashed against their cloaks, and the world around them was muted in white. Then, just as they neared the edge of a pinewood forest—
Ezel stopped.
He halted his horse so abruptly that Raiyan nearly bumped into him.
"E-Mr. Ezel?" Raiyan asked, clutching the reins. "Why have we stopped?"
No answer. Ezel's eyes were fixed ahead. The forest loomed before them, dark and tall, trees swaying ever so slightly in the wind.
Then came the words:
"Raiyan. Get off your horse."
His tone had changed. Flat. Cold. Like an executioner preparing a sentence.
Raiyan blinked. Alarmed. "W-What? Why?"
But Ezel was already dismounting.
Raiyan hesitated, then slowly followed, the snow crunching beneath his boots.
They stood in the open field. The wind had calmed, but the cold had deepened. Their horses suddenly whinnied—wild, distressed. They galloped wildly. Without warning, they turned and bolted in the opposite direction, galloping through the snow. Then, as if struck by madness, they began to claw and bury their heads into the snowbanks like terrified beasts seeking escape.
Raiyan's breath caught in his throat. Fear crept in, along with a mix of confusion.
"E-Ezel…" he whispered. "You're scaring me now. Is there an enemy ahead?"
His hands trembled as he fumbled with his belt, drawing the little transforming stick. With a flick, it became a sword, crackling faintly with his latent mana.
The world had gone still. Not just quiet—lifeless. Like even the wind had stopped breathing.
Something was coming.
Raiyan's skin prickled. Not from cold. From something else. Something deeper. Fear? No, it felt like something else to him. Something was terribly wrong and his body reflexively responded.
He heard it. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.
He flinched. "Huh…?"
The sound wasn't Ezel. It wasn't his system, either—he had learned to recognize that by now. This was real. Perhaps, the systems past adaptations still worked.
As the figure grew closer, Raiyan's heartbeat began to pound.
He clutched his chest. Pain spiked through it. He fell on his knees.
It was as if an invisible hand had reached into his body and clenched around his heart.
From the shadowed forest emerged a man.
Blonde hair. Green eyes. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His clothes resembled Ezel's—travel-worn, functional. But his face—
He wore a smile. Not a mocking grin. Not a madman's sneer.
Just…a small, composed smile. Slightly amused. Slightly mocking. Utterly unbearable. Infuriatingly ridiculous.
"W-Who are you?!" Raiyan shouted. His voice cracked.
The man didn't answer. His expression didn't change.
Then, calmly, he purred:
"Hehhhhh. He looks frighteningly similar to Dzeko, don't you think so, Ezel?"
Raiyan's eyes widened.
He turned sharply toward Ezel—who was now…walking toward the man. Calmly. As if reuniting with an old friend.
"What…?"
His thoughts scattered. Why was Ezel approaching him? Why did this man know him? And who the hell was Dzeko? Most importantly what was going on.
No answer came.
Only confusion. And dread. And then, all at once—
A blur. A flash of movement. A strange figure, fully black with white eyes. That was the last thing he saw
A sound erupted—like thunder mixed with a human scream. That was was the last thing he heard.
Raiyan didn't even see what happened. Not something that would make sense at least.
Before he could think, before he could speak—
Darkness. Everything went black.
Like before.
Like the void.
[Catalyst Chapter 1]