In the vast western reaches of the continent of Westoria lay the kingdom of Nervan—a realm that appeared from afar like a gleaming, opulent jewel. Yet the truth was hidden in its fringes. There, in the slums that resembled the rotting entrails of some monstrous beast, teeming with every kind of human and animal vermin, stood a frail young man. His black hair was wild and unkempt, his brown eyes sunken with dark circles beneath them that told the story of years spent hungry and sleepless. His clothes were nothing more than filthy rags that barely covered his emaciated frame.
To the people living on the other side of the kingdom—those who knew nothing of hardship—Kian was merely a worthless rat from the impoverished outskirts; a being of no value. In this world, anyone born into this place was finished the moment they drew their first breath.
Kian clutched in his hand a moldy loaf of bread covered in green fuzz. Getting it hadn't been easy—he had fought a silent battle among hundreds of shoving bodies just to snatch someone else's scraps from the "other side." Every few days the fortunate ones dumped their garbage, and for Kian and those like him, that filth was everything. In this poisoned land nothing grew; the water was scarce and the air toxic—unlike the other side entirely.
As the saying went: "One man's trash is another man's dinner."
Kian gave a bitter smile. His expression feigned happiness because he was finally going to eat after days of nothing, yet his mind kept returning to the cursed question: "Until when? When will I sleep in a warm bed and eat clean food?"
"Nonsense…" he muttered to himself.
A rat born in a garbage dump had no right to dream of such things. He devoured the moldy bread quickly, careful not to let a single crumb fall. The taste of mildew was close to that of rusty iron, but for someone who hadn't eaten in days, it really wasn't that bad.
After finishing the rotten loaf—ignoring whatever damage it might do to his stomach—Kian lay down on the hard ground beside the colossal wall that separated the two cities… or rather, separated the city from the garbage dump. He watched the clouds drift freely across the sky.
"Freedom?" he thought deeply. "Maybe on the other side they feast and live comfortably, but they're bound by rules that turn them into perfect puppets. Here we die of cold and hunger… but we're free. No laws bind us except the law of survival."
Clank… clank… screech…
A heavy metallic sound from the nearby alley interrupted his thoughts. Kian didn't startle immediately—he was used to the daily sounds of fights—but this time the noise was different. Strange. And it was accompanied by muffled screams unlike anything he had heard before.
He blinked a few times.
"I'm used to sounds like these… but something feels wrong."
Slowly, driven by curiosity, Kian stood and moved toward the alley. He peeked from behind a crumbling wall—and in that instant the color drained from his face, leaving him pale as a corpse.
There, amid the dust and foul stench, stood two knights in shining silver armor that reflected the dim sunlight. A mysterious emblem adorned their breastplates: a single blue eye at its center. At their feet, a group of young men were chained with heavy iron links… being herded like cattle. Their eyes looked broken. They looked like slaves.
Conflicting emotions churned inside Kian. He had never seen a real knight before—he had only heard stories or seen them drawn on the covers of discarded books he found in the trash. But the fear that gripped him wasn't caused by the gleam of their armor. It was something far more terrifying: "What could possibly bring people of their status to a garbage dump like this?"
Kian took a few careful steps backward, trying not to make a sound. He didn't want to attract attention. Something about the scene felt deeply wrong.
"It doesn't concern me… but damn it, I really want to know what they're doing here… or what they've come for."
He retreated a few more silent steps.
THWACK.
Suddenly he felt a brutal blow to the back of his head. His vision blurred rapidly and a cold numbness spread through his frail body.
"Damn it… I'm passing out."
Everything went black. The last thing Kian remembered was that violent metallic sound behind his skull—and one final thought before darkness swallowed him:
"Damn it… what happened?"
After an unknown amount of time, Kian slowly regained consciousness. His head felt like a boulder, and a steady rustling sound pounded in his ears.
He tried to lift his hand to rub his eyes, but a sharp, sudden tug stopped him.
Clank!
His eyes snapped open in terror. He was no longer in his familiar alley. He was lying on a filthy wooden floor inside a huge, jolting cart that rattled violently as though traveling over a rough road. He tried to stand quickly, but his body was yanked backward. Thick iron chains bound his wrists and ankles together and were fastened to the floor of the cart.
"Why am I chained? Where am I? All I remember is being in the alley and then… then…" The words stumbled in his exhausted mouth as he tried—and failed—to recall what had happened.
He began struggling wildly, pulling at the chains with all his strength, panic clawing at his heart.
"Don't bother. They're solid."
Kian froze. The voice had come from the dark corner at the far end of the cart.
There sat a boy about his age. Messy red hair, an old scar covering his left eye. He watched Kian with eerie calm and absolute indifference.
The boy continued, "I tried for hours before you woke up. These chains are made of steel. The more you fight, the tighter they bite into your wrists. You'll only bleed more and hurt yourself. You gain nothing but pain."
Kian's breathing came in short gasps. His voice trembled and cracked as he asked:
"Where am I? Who are you? Why are we chained like this?"
"My name is Ren," the boy replied quietly, giving his own chains a small shake. "As for where we are… no one really knows. All I remember is sitting down when a knight appeared out of nowhere. I tried to fight back, but he struck me with the pommel of his sword. Next thing I knew, I woke up chained inside this cart."
Trying to gather his scattered thoughts and calm himself, Kian peered through the small gaps in the wooden walls. Thick fog swallowed the road outside, and strange trees he had never seen before slid past.
He let out a slow sigh.
"Now that I think about it… I've barely seen many trees in my life. And I've never once left the city walls. How would I even know if I've gone far or not?"
The kingdom had long been surrounded by massive walls to protect it from the horrors and enemies beyond. There was also the great dividing wall that separated the garbage dump—where Kian lived—from the beautiful, privileged part of the kingdom. Very few people ever left the slums. The king had forbidden it long ago.
Decades earlier, the kingdom had fallen into a severe economic crisis. Crime soared, food became scarce, disease and starvation spread. In response, the king of that time ordered all criminals and the poor banished to this section and built the dividing wall to seal them in.
The cart held only young men—some Kian's age, some slightly older or younger—all visibly from poor families. Their ragged clothes and frail, undernourished bodies made that obvious at a glance. No one spoke. Each was lost in his own thoughts.
Silence reigned inside the cart. Only the clinking of chains could be heard. Kian stared at his trembling hand and felt a strange coldness creeping into his body—not from the weather, but from the situation itself. Fear, tension, pressure, and the bite of the icy chains all pressed down on him at once.
And whatever awaited him next was certainly nothing good.