Hours later, Jaeha's eyes opened to a sky the color of light grey, the air tasted thin and cold enough to sting the inside of his nose.
He lay flat on his back, staring upward at trees that seemed too tall to be real. Their trunks were massive, bark ridged and dark, roots clawing through soil that glittered faintly with mica. Leaves in strange hues hung above him, amber brushed against silver green. Indigo tangled with violet, and some rained down like snow, settling against his cheek before sliding away.
He pushed himself up on his elbows, the cloth against his skin felt wrong on him, it definitely didn't belong to him as he never owned this type of attire ever in his young life.
It was black and close-fitted, reinforced along the shoulders and knees with extra stitching. The material was light yet durable, bending easily when he flexed his fingers. It clung to him like it had been tailored, he rubbed the fabric between thumb and forefinger, testing the weave. It resembled an outfit ninja would wear in the dark.
'This isn't mine…'
Around him, other youth his age stirred, there were at least a hundred of them out there.
One boy rolled onto his side and gagged at the sight of the sky, a girl sat up too quickly and nearly knocked foreheads with another, and their weary and concerned voices began to overlap.
"Where are we..?!"
"Mother? Father?!"
"Why are we dressed like this…?!"
The panic rose quite high, each question louder than the last, and it grated against Jaeha's ears. They were asking the same questions he was thinking about; where were they really? Why were they dressed like this…?
But there was one thing he focused on the most…
He stood way too fast to the point where the world in his vision tilted slightly, then steadied a few seconds later.
'Where is he? Where is Yoo Tae…?' He thought.
His eyes darted between the trunks, every shadow seemed like it might peel away to reveal the red robes of Yoo Tae—every flicker of color between leaves made his shoulders tense, he was itching to see his new enemy.
"Come out!" he shouted. His voice cracked due to his already high adrenaline. "Yoo Tae!"
Nothing answered him, not even an echo. The hell kind of place was this?
'I'll beat him. I will. I don't care how strong he is….'
The thought sounded braver in his head than it felt in his chest. So he began walking, then broke into a run without really deciding to, he just moved on that reckless instinct.
The ground sloped gently, roots threatening to catch his toes. The new uniform made barely a sound as he moved, he noticed that…of course he did, even ow.
Then he passed a girl who wasn't yelling.
Fourteen years old. Dark blue hair braided loosely over one shoulder. Several strands had escaped and clung to her temple with sweat. Her grey eyes were steady, inspecting the forest as if counting the trees. And a scar cut diagonally across her left eye. She watched him sprint by but said nothing. Her name was Somin Hae.
Jaeha kept running until the trees finally fanned out and the air changed while the wind struck him full in the face.
Then…the ground ended. He stopped so abruptly that gravel skidded over the edge and vanished. Yes there was an edge, an…edge…? To a forest? But what was stranger, was that this so-called "forest" was floating high in the sky, way too high, and Clouds churned below. Actual clouds, rolling and dense like a white ocean.
Far beyond, other masses of land hovered in the open sky. Great slabs of earth and land, with some crowned with forests, others bearing structures that pierced up to the sky like spears.
They hung at varying distances as well, and Jaeha's stomach clenched.
"We're… in the sky?" someone whispered behind him.
More youth gathered near the edge, one boy dropped to his knees, and clutched at his own sleeves as if testing whether he was still solid.
"I thought the Floating Isles were a story," a girl said, voice shaking. "My grandfather used to threaten me with them."
"My uncle said sects forbid anyone from seeking them," a thin boy muttered. "He never explained why."
Jaeha thought, 'Am I the only one who's never heard of this place…?'
The wind pressed against Jaeha's back steadily, and he leaned forward before he realized he had done it.
If he jumped now, what would happen? Would Yoo Tae appear from nowhere and catch him again? Would the man in red be waiting below with his arms folded and highly amused?
Reckless….That's what they always called him….Faster than fate.
His parents' voices echoed in memory, writing those stories of how Jaeha outran trouble and conquered every foe before, how he laughed at disaster as if it were a game. Jaeha could see that version of himself clearly, grinning at the impossible and leaping off the ledge without hesitation just to prove he could.
His vision wavered, and he shut his eyes hard and swallowed whatever tried to rise in his throat. He didn't jump at all, but he wanted to.
When he stepped back from the edge, his hands were trembling. He balled them into fists and pretended he hadn't noticed.
The forest grew quiet behind them, it was subtle at first, and the wind softened and leaves stilled.
Then a composed and smooth voice spread across the floating land, loud enough to reach every ear without being raised.
"Today, children, you will become the blades that cut down the corruption of this world."
They all turned as one, above them stood a figure suspended in the air, red robes flowing around him in intricate craftsmanship.
The sleeves rippled, revealing glimpses of detailed stitching near the cuffs. His face was concealed by a white mask, featureless save for narrow slits where eyes should be.
He did not appear strained by the height or by the wind as he looked down at them with the perception of a handyman examining tools laid out before use.
Jaeha stared up at him, mind automatically set on fighting, fingers digging crescents into his palms.
He memorized the mask first, then the way the fabric moved, then the distance between them as if he were already calculating how to reach him.
'This isn't Yoo Tae, they don't even sound the same anyway….'
Even Somin Hae, who had stood apart with that unreadable expression across her face and the scar slicing through her left eye lifted her head and focused on the masked man.
The man in blood red robes hovered above them, hovering and drifting in the high-altitude wind. His garments bore dragons stitched in dark thread along the hems, sigils of the Blood Sect marking his chest.
"You stand upon the Floating Isles," he said, calm and resonant. "A realm severed from the mortal lands centuries ago when the heavens themselves recoiled from what was born here. This is the prison of the Mugoui. The Youth Stealing Angel."
A murmur rippled through the children.
"It is called an angel only in mockery," he continued. "In ancient scripture, the Mugoui was once a celestial attendant who governed the flow of lifespan, ensuring balance between birth and death. But ambition found it, and it sought to preserve youth for itself. To hoard vitality, It tore the Isles from the world and rooted itself here. And due to his greed, he was trapped here by the gods themselves." He paused while letting the words settle. "The Mugoui steals youth from all beings. Each strike landed against it that is not fatal will cost you ten years of your life. Ten years, drained and fed to its grotesque existence. Only a killing blow spares you from that theft. Fail to end it, and you will age where you stand. And you will eventually die."
Some of the children gasped.
"The Floating Isles are bound to it. Its heart pulses through this land and the trees draw sustenance from its stolen years. And now… it is dying."
His tone did not change.
"The Mothplague."
The word seemed to cling to the air like ash.
"The plague began as a celestial parasite. A swarm of divine moths that descended upon the Isles awhile ago. They feed upon spiritual essence and infest the mind, and once touched, a being's temperament alters and personalities fracture and violence becomes compulsion. Flesh decays, yet power increases. The beings that the Youth Stealing Angel has brought up here with him have been infected by it, and they will be a danger you all will have to deal with, alongside the Mugoui."
Elsewhere on the Isles, atop a jagged mountain rising through the clouds, the Youth Stealing Angel knelt.
Seventeen feet of crooked height folded in on itself, Its body was gaunt, and its ribs were visible beneath dark grey skin stretched too thin. Bushy and large filthy brown-grey hair spilled down its back and shoulders in tangled clumps, its pitch-black eyes stared without blinking at the horizon, and its mouth hung slightly open, revealing rows of pointed sharp teeth that did not belong to anything that was holy.
It held a crooked, dirt caked staff planted before it. And its wings were brown and brittle, brutally fused into its back as though hammered there by some merciless hand. It had feathers missing, and bones visible beneath patches. They twitched once, weakly, then stilled itself to be stationary, but he was oozing with power, power that radiated from the creature in a suffocating way.
Back in the clearing, the masked man continued.
"The God Forsaken Monk serves the Mugoui."
He gestured outward, and the clouds parted briefly in the distance.
"The monk was once a revered martial artist of a temple dedicated to the Youth Stealing Angel. He believed the Mugoui could be redeemed and that the rot consuming these Isles could be cleansed, in fear that the Mugoui would be corrupted by the plague as well. He pledged himself to the Angel and began purging the infected creatures."
Elsewhere on the Floating Isles, The God Forsaken Monk floated inches above the ground with his legs folded and hands pressed together in prayer. His body was lean but scarred, muscle chiseled by endless battle and fighting. Small red horns protruded from his forehead, aimed slightly backward, and his robes were tattered monk's garments, stained dark dried blood.
Beneath him lay countless bodies of infected beasts and mythic beings, corrupted by the Mothplague. Twisted deer with too many limbs, serpents with moth wings sprouting from their backs, and humanoid creature shapes bent unnaturally gross.
His eyes were closed, but his lips moved in silent prayer. And blood trailed down one arm, dripping onto the corpses below.
Back to the masked man, he continued to say, "The Mothplague infects all. You will have to avoid catching it as well. And if you do catch it, there are antidotes that will have to be crafted to slow the rot from consuming you."
Panic erupted.
"What do you mean, infect us?!"
"I don't want to be here!"
"Let me go home!"
"We're going to die!"
"You placed on us the Floating Isles…with the Youth Stealing Angel and the God Forsaken Monk, Mothplague animals and beasts…and the Mothplague itself…? This isn't fair! Why are we doing this?! Why are you guys doing this?!"
"I knew the blood sect was really corrupt…and here my brothers and sisters thought they were actually cool…"
Jaeha stood rigid.
"Infected by the Mothplague…" he muttered under his breath.
He lifted his sleeve slightly.
'I should be fine…right? Even though I've already contracted it…what happens if I'm exposed to it even more…?'
The black rot still traced along his arm, and just looking at it made it itchy, but Jaeha knew he shouldn't scratch it at all; It looked worse against the dark clothing of the uniform he wore.
The rot tingled, but he stared at it, disbelief rising again. He hadn't transformed and he hasn't lost himself yet.
After all, Yoo Tae had said he was "special."
Somin Hae's eyes dropped to Jaeha's exposed arm, and Jaeha noticed. He immediately rolled the sleeve back down and looked away.
It was silent between them for a moment, and Jaeha mumbled, "….Y-You don't have to stare at it.."
Somin Hae replied, "Why?"
"I-It's rude, that's why."
"You haven't turned yet. Strange…" Somin Hae acknowledged the rot just sitting casually on Jaeha's arm. To her, he was definitely an interesting individual to say the least.
The masked man's voice cut through the chaos.
"At the end of the Isles lies the Lake of Blood. Those who survive the trials of this land will be submerged within it. The blood will refine and temper you, and it will make you true prospects of the Blood Sect assassins."
The clearing fell into stunned silence. Lake of Blood? What else was so special about it?
"You are all around fourteen years of age," the masked man continued. "By eighteen, you will be ready to kill your primary target. Survive here, and we will train you for four years. You will master blood cultivation and martial arts. You will be trained as in 4 years, your primary target will be revealed and you will kill them 4 years from now. But as you are now, you stand no chance."
"Bullshit!" Jaeha shouted.
Every head turned toward him, and the masked man tilted his head slightly.
"It is you," he said. "The one Yoo Tae mentioned. The boy untouched by corruption…the one who broke free from his technique."
Jaeha's chest rose and fell harder.
"He vouched for you wholeheartedly," the masked man added. "He has never done so before."
The sting on Jaeha's arm intensified as anger coursed through him. The rot prickled while creeping beneath the skin like it was listening to his rage. No doubt the mark of the Mothplague was reacting to his emotions.
"Where's Yoo Tae?!" Jaeha yelled. "He killed innocent people! And he didn't let me beat those sect bastards up!"
Whispers exploded around him.
"He's got the Mothplague…?!"
"And he hasn't turned yet…?"
"That's impossible…"
"Stay away from him…"
Jaeha's teeth ground together, he bent down and snatched up a broken branch from the forest floor, pointing it toward the masked man in the sky.
"I'll fight all of you…!" he shouted.
Above him, the white mask remained stationary and eerily staring.
The wind swept through the towering trees, and somewhere far beyond the clouds, the Youth Stealing Angel slowly lifted its head.
The masked man spoke again, his voice lowering into a lower volume until it sounded almost polite, like someone asking for directions instead of prying open strangers.
"You want happiness… don't you? You want a life that isn't dragged around by rotten luck. At your age, you already wish you could grab hold of your own path. You keep waiting for something, anything, to finally go right… Tell me. Am I wrong?"
Jaeha didn't move, not because he was scared…even though that would have been easier to deal with. It was because the words landed too clean like they had been sitting inside him for years, waiting for someone else to say them first before he could repeat it to himself for the 100th time.
His fingers twitched around the broken branch still aimed uselessly at the sky. He hated that he couldn't shout back right away, and he hated how those sentences slid into places he kept locked up and nobody was supposed to notice but him and him alone.
Something swollen pressed against his ribs, and he clenched his jaw until it hurt him, determined not to let even a hint of it reach his face.
The masked man turned his empty stare toward Somin Hae. "Your parents died as well, didn't they?" he said, tone unchanged. "And you decided it was your fault. You searched for us everywhere. You wanted someone to tell you what to do, because you no longer trust your own judgment. Every choice feels like a mistake before you even make it. Being trapped like that disgusts you. Especially when the cage is your own thoughts. The feeling of being trapped mentally and emotionally is your worst nightmare…"
Somin Hae's posture dipped, barely noticeable unless someone was already watching her; Her face lowered to the dirt, studying nothing in particular; A small pebble here, a crushed leaf there, anything but that masked man. Eve thought what he was saying was true, she didn't want to be reminded that she actively sought after one of the most hated sects in the land.
And plus…this was embarrassing.
'Why say it out loud anyway? Now people know what's wrong with me…' She thought.
Jaeha glanced at her, then at the other youth scattered around the clearing. Some stared openly, shock written across their faces. Others looked down fast like eye contact alone might make them the next target to be hunted.
The masked man continued, pointing people out one by one:
A boy who had prayed every night for his sister's twisted legs to straighten…
…A girl who had slipped poison into an elder's tea because begging hadn't worked…
….And a quiet child who had imagined flames consuming his own village just to see what would happen.
Each person froze when named like insects pinned in place with a needle.
"Listen carefully," the masked man said as wind tugged at his robes, red cloth breathing softly. "To drown in blood already steeped in wrongdoing is to be released. The blood remembers the crime, so the sinner does not need to."
The clearing fell silent enough to hear branches creak overhead.
What the fuck did that mean? All the youth out there had no clue what that meant, but the masked man knew they would eventually figure it out on their own, hopefully.
"When you bind yourself to blood that has carried countless sins before yours, your own restraints begin to loosen. What you want will be decided here, but only by whether you endure or not."
He raised one hand.
Scarlet red colored energy gathered around his hand, spreading out in visible movement that made the air look warped and distorted. Then…shapes began to take form inside that red glow. It was the shape of blades….? All types of blades at that, so many that counting became pointless.
Sabers with heavy backs, straight jians, massive guandaos, twin knives, chains studded with spikes, hooked swords shaped for catching bone or ligaments, needles so thin they almost vanished when seen from the side, axes large enough to split a tree trunk, whips lined with barbs, and some weapons so strange they looked foreign to most of the youth out there..
They hovered overhead, suspended in churning red light.
"Whichever weapon descends onto you," the masked man said, "is the one that has chosen you."
The weapons above gave off a little vibration, a restless shiver passing through the swarm.
The masked man continued, "These are not lifeless tools. Each one houses the remnants of killers who served the brotherhood before you. Their awareness remains. They will examine you, and decide if you are worthy… or discard you."
Then the masked man unraveled into mist the color of fresh blood, scattering into the air until nothing remained.
And for a fraction of a breath, nobody moved.
Then panic opened up from the youth:
"They're actually going to drop those things on us?!"
"Damn it!"
"I want to go home…I don't want this!"
"My father hates the Blood Sect…all sects hate them….! I can't be a part of this! It's a dishonor to my own family…"
"We can't let those weapons fall on us! It'll be over for us!"
"We have no choice! You think the blood sect will just bring us here just to die to these weapons?!"
"I—I guess you're right…fine then. We really don't have a choice, do we?"
The other youth looked at each other, those saddened faces, the realization that there was no way off the Floating Isles unless you died.
Above them, the mass of the steel weapons tilted.
Somin Hae stared upward, expecting something crazy to happen.
'I searched for them on my own pitiful strength. Nobody pushed me into this. Running away now would make everything before this pointless…I have to do theI. And this will be the last decision I ever make on my own….'
Her hands moved to the braid hanging down her back. She pulled it apart quickly, fingers combing through strands before twisting them into a messy knot high on her head. Loose pieces fell around her scarred eye, refusing to stay put.
One slow breath in, one slow breath out.
Jaeha kept staring at the sky too.
"They're going to turn us into monsters," he muttered. "If we become assassins… I can't… I…"
His parents' stories surfaced uninvited once again for the 100th time. The version of him they always described, charging straight into danger with a stupid grin. Treating disaster like a challenge instead of a warning. Outrunning everything, even things that weren't supposed to be outrun.
To him, resolve tasted bitter like medicine left too long on the tongue.
Damn gross.
"No… this is how I get close to them," he whispered. "This is how I beat those bastards down. I'll get stronger and stronger until even fate gets knocked flat. I'll outrun it for real this time. I don't care what I turn into…I don't care if I become a monster. Maybe I want it. I'm done being the unlucky one. In those stories about me being the strongest, I wasn't some noble hero anyway. Heroes save people. I can't even save myself, so what's the point?"
He lifted his face, his teeth forming into a grin of excitement or foolishness.
"Come on then!!!"
The weapons fell fast line a guillotine—
SIIIIIING!
The whistle of the blades cutting through the air within its descent rang in the ears of the youth, making them more and more anxious, some wanting to run and some wanting to get this crap over with. Red energy trailed behind each blade as they tore through the air, the ground itself seemed to brace for impact.
Nobody moved, sweat soaked through dark uniforms, ran into eyes, dripped from chins. None of them had ever faced anything like this. Most of them had played games where they faced something like this before but only in imagination, but the real thing was just as haunting.
Then the clearing exploded with blade impacts, steel punched through bodies, pinning youth to the earth as if they weighed nothing. Blood splashed across black fabric, turning it slick, and raw screams of pain ripped through the trees, making even more leaves fall from the branches than there already were.
THOOM!
Something cold stabbed straight through Jaeha's torso; The blow slammed him flat on his back, air blasting from his lungs in a sound that didn't even resemble a breath.
His vision shook violently as iron flooded within his mouth, his eyes tearing up. He clamped his teeth down on his own hand hard enough to break skin, needing something solid, something he controlled, to keep from spiraling into noise and panic.
Around him, kids cried and shrieked, bodies nailed to the ground beneath sacred weapons.
Then… the blades began to drip, heavy drops of blood slid down the steel, but instead of falling away, they seeped back into the wounds, vanishing into flesh as if being pulled inside. The red energy flickered once, then sank into their bodies as well.
Skin closed around steel, and the crushing pressure eased. Jaeha wrapped his hand around the hilt protruding from his chest.
With a strained breath, he dragged himself up to his fight, and others did the same. Hands gripped handles, shafts, and chains. One by one, they tore the weapons free from their bodies.
No fresh blood followed as Jaeha looked down. A black hwando rested in his grasp. Blood clung to it, sliding along the groove before dripping to the soil. The surface was polished enough to reflect his face back at him, eyes wide, smile stretched too far enough to look insane.
His breathing came in frantically and rapidly, a mixture of his adrenaline, his anger, and his eagerness to become a monster or someone who just beat everyone.
'So this is it. I'm stepping into that role for real….I'll make that creator a reality…mother and father…'
Nearby, Somin Hae staggered as she freed a chain weapon tipped with crescent moon shaped blades on both ends. The links rattled softly while she steadied herself, legs threatening to give out as blood poured out.
A thin fragile girl lifted twin daggers, testing their weight with trembling fingers. Another youth clutched a long spear, tears still on his cheeks while something steadier slowly replaced the panic in his eyes.
They stood amid the blood-soaked ground, each holding a weapon that had chosen them.
High above, unseen eyes from the Floating Isles observed everything.
Jaeha, Somin Hae, and the rest of the youth were ready to proceed.