Act 0. Prologue - A Thread in the Snow
What fear means for you? Fearing to fall from a high altitude? Fear to spiders? Fear of losing someone special? Fear to die? For me, fear means nothing, not being alone or not having friends, but being empty from inside.
Others would call it misfortune—being born into this era. A time forged in the aftermath of war, where the land lies barren, stripped of life and promise. Nothing can be sown; nothing can rise from the void. Only the relentless snow and merciless blizzards remain, consuming every city in their icy grasp. Few civilizations endured the wrath of what was once thought to be eternal.
Time shows no mercy to anyone. It consumes everything, whether beast or human, living being or creation. None can escape its unyielding hold. Days dissolve into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Decades fade, centuries vanish, and ultimately, all are swallowed by the unrelenting march of time. Even different species, such as elves, dwarves, fairies, or any others, are not spared by time. Though it may come later for them than for other beings, it inevitably arrives.
Till this day no one knows who fought or for what they fought, all they know are the traces that were left in this land, a land that others thought would be forever. How would you survive? How would you live? Would you be able to love something?
♫ Lu lu li lu la, luu, luuu lila, lilu lila lulila ♫
A melancholic song echoes in my mind, stirring my senses as I struggle to move my snow-covered body. The distance was obscured, and soft flakes drifted onto my head and shoulders. It was a strangely nostalgic scene; one I had witnessed before. For a moment, I was frozen, unable to move a single inch, much like when I first woke up. Tears began to fall from one eye, and in that moment, I realized that the other eye could no longer see.As I struggled to open my mouth, a single phrase echoed in my mind: "Once again, you've failed." I began to ponder what to do next, finding myself awake in a harsh situation, stranded in the middle of nowhere.
As I moved forward, I couldn't help but think that in this scene, I found myself admiring the view of the tall trees. Each one was unique, its branches adorned with crystallized flakes, creating a stunning display. By the time passed, my thoughts and memories started to fade away with the only memory of my name, "Yu". Going along different roads, I`ve started to realize that I did not encounter any animal or person, something that could be understandable and probably nothing would move in this weather that hasn't changed a bit in the time I've been walking, making it like an endless maze or stagnant view.
With time passing and as I ventured further into the forest, I found myself wondering when I would finally pass through. In a fleeting moment, a faint sound reached my ears, and as I moved toward it, I saw an icy lake, its surface blanketed in snow. Enchanted by the breathtaking view, I searched for a way to pass through. On the other side, a stunning silhouette of a girl stood, as though she might melt into the frozen lake. But in the blink of an eye, she vanished, leaving no trace behind. From where I stood, she seemed hardly tall, her short hair shifting between grey and blue, a youthful face—though it was hard to tell from such a distance. She wore a long white dress, out of place in the harsh weather, and it appeared as though she was about to speak to someone. Suddenly, a phrase echoed in my mind: 'Help me,' though I couldn't tell who had voiced it. At that moment, it meant little to me—but its significance would soon unfold.
While contemplating ways to cross the lake, two options came to mind: one was to head straight across the frozen surface, while the other was to go around it. The first option carried the risk of the ice breaking beneath me, while the second would take longer due to the lake's vast size. Choosing the first option, I began to move cautiously onto the lake. Each step was met with the crackling sound of the ice beneath me. Soon, I found myself in the middle of the lake, the only thought being that I had no choice but to keep moving forward, even as the ice cracked beneath me. But, to my relief, I eventually reached the other side of the lake.
The view slowly shifted; only a few trees remained in sight, and in the distance, something resembling ruins emerged. Hours likely passed—though I can't recall exactly, thanks to the steady weather—and as I made my way toward the ruins, a thought occurred: 'What am I?". It's been nearly a day since I woke up, yet I haven't needed water or food. Before, while at the lake, I took a quick look at the ice and, in its reflection, beheld a human silhouette.So why does my body crave nothing? Unable to answer any of the questions I'd asked myself at the lake, and now, I pressed on—heading toward what seemed to be nothing.
"Good morning," a girl's voice echoed softly.
"Morning"
The name of the girl is Yuna. She usually wakes me up every morning to start helping my parents with their work. Today was a typical snowy day, yet it felt somehow more serene than the days before. Every morning, I head into the city to pick up groceries for my sister—she uses them to prepare dinner—and to sell dried wood. Our home is a 20–30-minute walk from the city, and as I head there, I gather fallen wood along the roadside to dry and sell later. Since there aren't many opportunities for work or gathering, this might be one of the few ways to earn a living—enough to buy food and clothing to withstand the harsh weather.
As I was leaving the garden, I noticed my sister outside carrying some wood in a straw basket. My attention was drawn to the basket, which was on the verge of collapsing in her hands. A thought crossed my mind—it was time to buy a new one to ease her work. I also wanted to remind her that she should ask me to carry the wood, as it could be dangerous and might harm her health. But as she walked toward the door, she turned her head in my direction and called out loudly, telling me to be careful. Leaving my concerns for later, I headed toward the road—a road cleaned every day by my father. It was a task that could likely be done faster if he woke me up earlier to help, and it would also ease my anxiety about his health deteriorating. If that were to happen, it would be a heavy burden on us, especially since there are only three of us. If that were to occur, it would devastate us, but for my sister, it would be unbearable—something that could break her completely. We had only just begun to move on from our mother's death, and during that time, my sister refused to eat, move, or even speak to us. I had accepted the fate that nothing could be done about it, and even if there had been a way to save our mother from dying alone in an isolated place, nowhere to be found, it was too late.
While on my way to the city, the road began to fill with snow, and when I looked back, it seemed as though it had never been cleared. A few days ago, late at night, I told my father he should stop cleaning the road, because it would just get covered with snow again, making all his work pointless. In response, my father said:
"It is not pointless. What if others find themselves in the same situation as your mother, unable to find their way through the fierce blizzard, hoping to reach a safe zone? The road can help them to reach the city, or our house."
For me, it still seemed pointless due to the unpredictable weather, but I decided to stop insisting that he should quit.
Looking up to check the clouds, I tried to guess whether the weather would shift again — or if another blizzard might hit while I moved toward the city. This time, the branches above were fewer, and a creeping gloom took hold of me. I still had no way to provide money to help my family.
You might think it strange to keep going in a world where nothing can be foreseen, but there's no other choice — not when there are people waiting for you, hoping you'll return to a place that can be called home.
I usually take a short break after getting out from the forest, just to admire the view in front of me — a field of Snowdrop flowers.
No matter the cold, these flowers never give up. But I've always wondered who planted them here, and why.
As I moved carefully through the field, making sure not to step on any flowers, I lay down in front of an old silver plate. It was covered in engravings, but the words had faded with time. Only two letters could still be made out — a 'k' and a 's'. This place holds a special meaning for me. It gives me the strength to keep going, even though I know I can't change anything. In the end, we're all destined to live our lives in pursuit of something that fulfills us.
After some time, I decide to get up and continue on my path.
Before reaching the city, faint voices — or whispers — can be heard coming from the Purple Forest.
This forest is visible even from the city walls, yet to this day, no adventurer or army has dared to step inside. A strange barrier surrounds it, cast by an unknown entity.
No one knows why a city was built so close to such a dangerous place. Still, both citizens and guards often talk about it, repeating the same story — that somewhere in this world, there exists a book said to reveal the truth behind the Forest.
Upon arriving at the city entrance, I heard loud cheers echoing from afar. Drawn by the sound, I soon came upon a large crowd, their voices raised in shouts of 'Gooooo, get it!!!' and "You can do it!". As I struggled to make my way through the crowd, a desperate, sorrowful voice—clearly that of a girl—shouted, "Stop it, I beg you!". As I neared the edge of the crowd, I saw a boy, younger than me, wielding a medium-length sword—thin as a needle—driving it straight into another boy's chest. In that moment, unable to utter a word, I watched as the crowd erupted in ecstatic celebration, exalting the victory. They began hurling small stones found along the road and ice-covered snowballs at the defeated, defenseless boy. As I lifted my gaze, searching for the girl who had pleaded for the fight to stop, my eyes met a heart-wrenching sight—her face, twisted in sheer devastation, streaked with tears. A broken sob escaped her lips as she rushed toward the boy, now lying motionless on the cold, unforgiving ground. The crowd, enraged by the girl's interference, furious that she was shielding their target, turned their violence on her. They kicked and shoved her, their voices rising in cruel shouts: 'Don't you dare touch him!' Yet, despite the pain, she pushed forward. Stumbling but determined, she reached the boy's lifeless body, dropped to her knees, and, with trembling arms, pulled him into a fragile embrace. Mumbling through her tears, unable to form proper words, the girl pleaded for the boy to wake up, to go home with her. But the crowd, growing enraged by the scene before them, turned their cruelty on her. One by one, they hurled their stones—not at the fallen boy, but at the helpless girl. It no longer felt like punishment; it had become a hunt. The girl tried to open her mouth, a desperate cry for help forming on her lips—but no sound came. In that moment, our eyes met. As I desperately tried to rush to her aid, my body refused to move an inch. All I could do was to watch and hear her cries and screams, slowly fading away and impossible to hear anymore. Slowly, I lowered my head in despair, unable to bear the cruelty of the crowd, their twisted joy growing with each drop of blood that spilled from her mouth and the sickening crack of broken bones. As I was about to cast my gaze downward, my eyes fell upon the boy who had stabbed the girl's friend.
Time passed, and the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving behind the lifeless body of the boy and the beaten girl, barely conscious. Only I remained, standing in front of them. This was the only thing I could do—wait patiently for the crowd's rage to subside, hoping to help the poor girl. It was all I could think of, helpless to defend either of them. I collapsed to my knees, carefully lifting the girl to avoid causing her more pain. Gently, I embraced her, trying to keep her from slipping from my arms. With every step I took toward my house, the weight of my helplessness grew, knowing there was little I could do to ease her suffering. The girl slowly opened her eyes, and a faint, amused smile appeared on her face.
"How amusing," she said, her voice weak but tinged with irony.
"Just moments ago, you avoided looking into my eyes, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground. And now, here you are, carrying me"
"I know an apology can't change anything, but it's all I can offer" the boy said, his voice barely a whisper, fading with each word.
"It's not like I can direct my fury or pain at you, there were others who did the same", words that struggled to leave the girl's mouth.
"It's almost ironic how someone as strong as you—strong enough to wipe out a whole nation or face the Sfenx toe-to-toe—could become so small and insignificant, overcome by fear", said the girl.
"Have you heard the story of the Lost Hero?" the boy asked gently, hoping to take her mind off the pain.
"No need," the girl said, her tone uninterested.
"Long ago, when peace began to crumble in every nation... — ", the boy started to tell her the story.
"Wai—"
Thousands of years ago, or perhaps only decades, we may never truly know how much time has passed since this legend was told. There were nations, each striving to grow strong enough to defend their borders from invasion. Back then, no one knew who or what these invaders were, and even today, the name of the nation or people remains unknown.
In the northwest, there was a nation called Cyrus, renowned for its skilled artisans. They dedicated themselves to crafting tools, designing homes, and even building grand castles for the nobility. The people of Cyrus thrived by working the land, cultivating crops, and raising livestock. They were well known for their minimal involvement in historical events and for their neutral status over conflicts in neighboring nations.
In the south, neighboring the nations of Ferynt and Moon, lay the Federal Kingdom of Kyrtas—positioned at the heart of the world map. This nation was well known for its significant involvement in historical events, including the invasion of the Sun Republic and its eventual defeat in a great war against an unknown country along its southeastern border.
And in the southwest, on a corner, there was the Liberal Nation Moon (LNM) unknown to the other countries due to their smaller involvement in any event, or export and imports.
In the capital of the Moon Nation, there was a boy named Will—one who would later be remembered forever for his great achievements in resolving political conflicts and his role in the upcoming events, which would engulf all nations.
The boy was born into a noble family, one with eight children, and he was the second in line. Their family name was Sofners, renowned for their duty to guard the Saint once they reached adulthood.
Time passed, and by the age of fifteen, the boy began his training to become one of the Saint's guards until his final day, sworn to protect the Highness with his very life. The training was straightforward: daily workouts, swordsmanship, etiquette, ethics. If he couldn't master all of them, he would be banished from the family and would no longer be able to present himself as Sofners Will, but only as Will. To him, this duty meant nothing more than an obligation passed down by his ancestors and his father—something he could never imagine himself fulfilling, let alone holding a sword or hurting another human being. Years passed, and Will spent his time reading about the world, rather than mastering any of the skills his father had instructed him to. As the ceremony to prove his worth as the Highness' guard approached, he began to feel uneasy. He thought that what he had refused to do would gradually turn into regret, unable to rewind the time he had lost, and found himself contemplating what he would do when the day finally arrived..