After the Forest 🌲
The morning sun was a blessing after the horror of the darkness of the forest. Song yawned and stretched his stiff muscles, grunting with each creaking joint that protested the brutal night they had endured. His clothes were torn, there was dirt under his nails, and exhaustion was a tangible presence crushing down on him.Â
"Phew," Song panted, looking back at the line of trees they had finally escaped. "That forest was... terrible."
Black limped a bit as he walked "Thank God we made it out alive. Now let's get to a place where we can rest in safety. My feet are completely ruined from all this walking."
Lapis walked with mechanical purpose in spite of his clear fatigue, but even his cybernetic enhancements were not able to stifle the wear and tear of their ordeal. "You're not alone. We're all exhausted. My stomach is rumbling with hunger."
Black looked at him in confusion. "Huh? You should not be able to hunger when you are a cyborg."
Lapis paused, colorless eyes revealing something almost vulnerable. "Because I'm a regular human who was born. My basic body functions are still functioning. I just don't know who I am, honestly. "Lapis" is just a nickname that I came up with.
"Yes," Lazuli agreed softly, her voice echoing the same doubtful note.
Black growled, chewing on this information. The twins' origin was mostly a secret, even to them.
Song came to a sudden stop, his arm pointing ahead. "Hold up, everyone. What's that town over there?"
Out of the morning fog, houses loomed—small wooden buildings with wisps of smoke curling out of chimneys, gardens with vegetables growing, and the unmistakable signs of peaceful human existence.
"Looks like a small village," Black said, closing his eyes against the sun.
Lazuli's optical sensors flashed as it surveyed the distant settlement. "It appears peaceful, and there is no indication of danger. Maybe there is a secure place we can camp for a bit until we are able to continue our journey."
The promise of actual food, clean water, and perhaps even a bed to rest in was cheering for all of them. They'd been traveling for days, surviving on rations and stream water, always on the lookout for threats.
The AGI Speaks 🤖
As they approached the periphery of the village, Song could sense the familiar hum in his pocket. The AGI chip heated against the thickness of his thigh, and the artificial intellect burst into his brain directly.
"Congratulations, heroes! You have now reached Jan-hang Village! You're halfway there, and I'm sure you'll locate the Sage!"
Song took out the chip, and his friends held close to him as the voice of the AI echoed out into the morning.
"Because you've passed the first test. but remember—the tests aren't finished yet."
The sentence hung there, a reminder that their journey to Sage Hang was by no means done. But there was also some praise in it, recognition of what they'd endured so far.
Song looked around at the faces of his friends. Black's scarred face was set in grim determination. The twins' pale eyes held calculating readiness. They'd all been changed by what they'd experienced in that dark woods.
"The first test," Song said thoughtfully. "So that beast attack wasn't random. It was a test."
Black cracked his knuckles, the resulting sound loud in the quiet of the air. "Then we passed with flying colors. Those beasts didn't even know what happened."
Lapis tilted his head with mechanical interest. "If that was only the beginning, what's coming must be considerably harder."
"We'll manage," Lazuli stated with the unwavering confidence that only came from artificial enhancement. "We've become stronger."
Song felt the truth of that statement. The AGI augmentation still coursed through his veins—new data, faster reflexes, greater strength. He was not the cowering student who'd fled Crimson Army soldiers. None of them were the people who'd taken this road.
Looking Forward ⏩
The village of Jan-hang opened up before them, peaceful and welcoming in the sun. Cooking fires sent savory scents into the crystal air. Vegetable gardens showed the emerald promise of new greens. Children's laughter blew on the wind.
It was paradise after the forest of hell they'd just survived.
Song clenched his fist, feeling the added muscle fiber flex with new strength. The white aura flickered across his knuckles before vanishing.
"Whatever comes next," he whispered low, "we'll face it together."
Black's manic grin showed too many teeth. "Damn right we will."
The twins inclined their heads as one, their cybernetic systems thrumming softly in readiness.
Somewhere behind them, the dark forest waited like a wall of horrors. Ahead of them stretched Jan-hang Village and, beyond, the mysterious Sage Hang, who might be the key to Song's latent potential.
The AGI chip pulsed once more with warmth, as if sensing his determination.
"Rest well, young heir. The trials ahead will test more than your strength. They will test your very soul."
Song pocketed the chip and started walking toward the village, his companions falling into step beside him. Whatever waited for them in Jan-hang—or beyond—they would meet it as they had everything else.
Together.
The Ancient Palace 🏦
Far away in the Whispering Valley, hidden from the world by fog and the passage of time, there was a palace that had withstood centuries without losing its magnificence. Its construction was of ancient Konota—pretty curves and pointed angles that seemed to blend beautifully, as if the structure had grown out of the ground itself rather than having been constructed.
In a tiny reception room in this ancient building, every object carried with it the weight of generations of power. The furniture wasn't merely expensive—it held the weight of history. Tapestry upon the walls told stories of battles fought and won before the modern world existed. Books lined shelves in languages that only a handful of living creatures could read.
Sage Hang reclined in a high-backed chair, his posture perfect for a man of such advanced years. His white locks were pulled back into a neat knot, and his knotted hands were resting lightly on the arms of the chair. His entire bearing radiated quiet strength and hard-won wisdom accrued over several decades.
An older man entered the room, carrying a tea service on a silver tray. San-woo moved with practiced ease, but his sharp eyes and mysterious presence suggested he was far more than a regular servant.
He placed the hot cup of tea on the low table beside Sage Hang's chair and stepped back respectfully.
The sage lifted the delicate porcelain cup and took the first sip, savoring not only the flavor of the tea but also the pause for thought it provided.
The Conversation 🗣️
"San-woo," Sage Hang whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of a man accustomed to being obeyed. "Do you know what I am experiencing right now?"
San-woo's face was wisely impassive. "What is it, my lord?"
"I can feel him close." The sage drank his tea, his eyes distant. "Very close. But even so, he has a great many obstacles to overcome."
"Who do you mean, my lord?"
Sage Hang set his cup down with careful restraint. "Don't play coy, San. You know whom I am referring to."
San-woo's serene facade fell somewhat, as though he had gotten lost in thought only to return to reality. "Ah! You speak of the heir. For seven decades and more we have waited for this day, and every time you inform me that he's about to arrive. Do we have to wait another two decades?"
The sage's smile was soft but carried profound conviction. "No. This time is very, very different. Between him and us is but one day."
The words hit San-woo like a blow. His carefully practiced mask collapsed, and genuine shock crossed his face.
"Are—are you serious, my lord?"
"Yes."
Silence fell in the room. Sage Hang sipped the last of his tea with languid grace, as though he had not just pronounced the end to a seventy-year wait. All that broke the silence was the delicate clinking of china and San-woo's barely increased breathing as he absorbed this realization.
After the sage had finished all his tea, San-woo returned to reclaim the empty cup. His voice had new significance when he spoke again.
"My lord, what information do you have about this heir? Do we have any news about him?"
Sage Hang's expression turned thoughtful, almost melancholic. "He lost everything he ever had in life. A weak young man, sorry, or so he seemed to be." Sage's eyes narrowed. "Now he has awakened his powers, and he's quite nearby. I do not know exactly where, and I don't know which of the few remaining Konota families he is a part of. Doesn't matter. What matters is the fact that he will be coming soon."
San-woo leaned forward slightly. "All these years. Will he be ready for what you will have to instruct him in?"
"That remains to be seen." Sage Hang rose from his seat with practiced fluidity that belied his years. "Knowledge in the absence of power ruins everything it touches. I have watched too many youngbloods get eaten up by their own ability."
The wise man walked to the window, where he looked out across the mist-shrouded valley beyond. "This one is of royal blood, but blood doesn't make a king. He must prove that he fights for something more than vengeance, for something more than wounded pride."
"And if he does not?"
Sage Hang held his silence for a long, good time. "Then Konota's dream dies upon him, and the Crimson Army reigns forevermore."
The weight of that pronouncement hung over everyone like a tangible presence. Seventy years of patience, of maintaining old skills and old combat techniques, for this instant.
"Have the training grounds prepare," Sage Hang commanded, turning to his servant again. "And see to the Chamber of the Trial. If this child does carry the heir's burden, he'll need to demonstrate himself worthy."
San-woo bowed deeply. "It shall be done, my lord."
As the servant left to carry out his orders, Sage Hang stood by the window, watching the road that wound up out of the valley below. Along some point upon that road, a young man traveled toward his destiny, carrying with him the hopes of a lost kingdom and the weight of his own grief.
"Come, then, young heir," the sage breathed to the morning air. "Show me you are strong enough to claim the crown your ancestors gave their lives fighting for."
Morning Market
Song and his companions arrived in the village as dawn's first light tinged the cobblestone streets with gold. The morning market was just stirring—merchants setting up wooden stalls, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from bakeries, children playing among the stands with shouts echoing off stone walls.
The air here was different. Clean. Pure in a way that made Song realize how much poison he'd been breathing in the cities. A gentle breeze swept over their faces, carrying the scent of wildflowers and mountain streams.
Black stopped walking, his scarred face elsewhere with memory. "This place. reminds me of my old town where my people lived. It doesn't exist anymore."
None of them uttered a word. They all breathed silently and moved, the weight of shared loss drawing them together in consciousness.
As the day passed, more thronged the market. Farmers brought fresh vegetables, artisans displayed their wares, and the village hummed with the beat of life. Song experienced a strange tranquility here—something he'd not felt since childhood.
The Stranger's Scrutiny
One villager in the district spotted them shortly after. His weathered face was guarded as he looked over the four travelers who clearly didn't belong. They were all that characterized outsider—their dress, their attitude, the way they walked like those accustomed to peril.
The man approached on purpose, his eyes still locked on Song's face.
"Who are you? Where did you guys come from? Are you spies for the accursed Crimson Army?"
Song raised his hands peacefully. "No, we're just—"
The man cut him off, grabbing Song's wrist with surprising force. His calloused fingers traced along Song's arm, frisking him like a gate guard at the airport. Song sensed the man's gaze tracing over each feature—scars, muscle, how he stood.
"W-what are you doing, sir?" Song stuttered.
When he had finished examining it, the man locked gazes with Song with laser focus. His tone, when he spoke, was one of pure command.
"Come with me."
The Secret Palace
The villager strode down the streets with purpose, his pace firm but not frantic. Song and his friends followed behind him, glancing at one another but not speaking. There was something about this man that commanded respect—and maybe a little fear.
They walked down winding alleys, past structures that grew larger and more ornate the further they moved into the village. Finally, they stood before a structure that took Song's breath away.
The palace rose up out of the village square as from a dream. The old Konota style blended with the native architecture seamlessly, creating something known and unknown at the same time. Elegant arches were supported by graced pillars, and each surface wore intricate design. This was not a building—it was art that had stood for centuries.
The man turned to face them, his expression serious.
"These marks on your body. they're special. If you truly are the heir, then go in there and show them. Otherwise, we'll slay all of you." His tone didn't hold any emotion, just cold fact. "This building is a secret, for those worthy enough to set foot in. The heir who will break the cursed army's grip. If its secret gets out, the world will be sealed forever."
Song stared in horror. Muscles in his shoulder muscles contracted as the man's words registered. He didn't know what he was being requested to do or how to respond.Â
Support from Friends
His friends looked at him with assured and apprehensive faces. Black shifted forward, putting a bruised hand on Song's shoulder.
"Come on, boy. Don't worry. We have faith in you."
Lapis nodded, his pale eyes glinting with confidence. "Yes. You're the one that will pass this test."
Lazuli's cybernetic implants cycled with processing light. "The world has waited for this moment for years. We're all really excited at this moment. I'm sure you won't let us down or the hopes of the world, Song."
Their faith grounded him. Song's racing heart slowed as he looked into each of their faces in turn. These people had chosen to follow him, to stake everything on the chance that he was more than a broken student seeking revenge.
He glanced over his shoulder to the palace, studying its broken walls and mysterious shadows. Whatever test was inside, he would face it. Not just for himself, but for everyone who was counting on him.
Song stood up straight and adopted a fighting pose, his body position shifting to indicate readiness although he had no idea what awaited him.
In his pocket, the AGI chip pulsed warmly with heat light, and the artificial consciousness replied in half-breathed confidence:
"He will pass the test. I'm certain of that."
The seventeen dead kings and seventy years of waiting weighed in every word. Song stepped before the palace doorway with not only his own expectations, but with everyone who had expected Konota to live again.