It was a house—a quiet, humble house—decorated with flowers. The same house Aron, Carlos, and Wood had once built for Master with their own hands. Every corner of it carried a memory, every plank held laughter from a time that felt distant now. Outside, a wide open area stretched endlessly, filled with all kinds of plants—some tall, some small, some blooming in colors that calmed the heart. Honeybees moved gently from flower to flower, their soft buzzing adding life to the silence, making the place even more appealing to the naked eye.
The sound of an axe rang sharply through the air.
Wood stood near the edge of the clearing, chopping logs with steady movements. It was nothing more than wood—just trees turned into pieces—but each strike echoed like a reminder of work that never ended. He split the logs into small pieces and stacked them carefully beside the house, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Ahh, man…" Wood muttered, resting the axe on his shoulder. "I'm so tired."
He lifted his gaze to the sky. Birds flew calmly above, gliding without worry, as if the world below them wasn't slowly changing.
"I wish Aron was here," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.
Inside the house, Lily was cleaning. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath her steps as she moved from one room to another. Her hair was brown, the ends fading into a yellowish-white tone, tied loosely behind her head. Her hands had turned red from the cold water she had been using, but she didn't stop.
It's been a long time, she thought.Master had left because of business—important work, or so he had said. As for her brother, she didn't know where he was anymore. Aron had disappeared without a word. Carlos…
Her breath caught.
Carlos is dead.
Her eyes widened slightly, filled with a quiet awe and pain mixed together.
Just how much will things change for us, Dad? she wondered silently.
A knock came at the door.
Lily quickly dried her hands and rushed forward. The moment she opened the door, her senses picked up something familiar.
Wood stood there, holding his axe loosely.
"Lily," he said, forcing a smile. "I've finished cutting the wood. Use it well."
She froze.
Her face turned pale, and the smile she was about to give faded, like the sun slipping below the horizon. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Well…" Wood said awkwardly. "I guess I'll head out now. See you tomorrow."
He turned away before she could say anything.
The door closed.
,,,,,,,,,,
A little earlier—in the restaurant
"Huh?!"
The man's voice was loud, almost desperate.
"I paid six silver coins for that, and you're telling me it's worth nothing?!"
They were inside a crowded restaurant. Voices overlapped, dishes clattered, and laughter filled the air. A few men sat around a table, watching the argument with amused expressions.
"Ahh, man," one of them said lazily. "You've been scammed pretty bad. I might take it off your hands for three coins."
"THREE COINS?!" the man shouted.
At first, his face sank with disappointment. But after a moment of hesitation, he sighed.
"Okay… okay. Three coins is fine."
He handed the item over and left quickly, shoulders slumped.
The table erupted into quiet laughter.
"You got a pretty good deal," one of them said. "You fooled him nicely."
"I know," the man replied with a grin. "From the start, I knew this could sell for a fortune."
He lifted the object—a silver cup. In its center was a small glowing stone, pulsing faintly.
"I'll sell this for at least fifteen coins."
The restaurant door creaked open.
A man entered.
He wore a long coat, dark glasses, and a hat pulled low over his face. The moment he stepped inside, the noise faded. Conversations died down. Even the laughter vanished.
Silence spread through the room.
His footsteps echoed against the wooden floor as he walked forward. There was an empty seat near the table. He approached it slowly and sat down.
"A glass of water," he said.
The boy serving tables hurried over and placed the glass in front of him, hands shaking slightly.
"Can I… can I ask your name?" the boy asked.
The man didn't lift his head. His voice was deep, heavy, and calm.
"Zord."
"These guys aren't anything more than troublemakers," the boy said quietly to Zord. "Please don't listen to them…"
From behind, the man replied, "Huh?"
He shot the boy a cold, deadly stare.
"I'll beat him first," he said slowly, "then you're next, boy."
He stepped closer.
"Now I'll say this simply," he continued. "I like that chain of yours."
His voice dropped as he leaned in, whispering, "Probably stolen, right? From some fool…"
Silence filled the room.
Zord didn't move, but rage burned inside him. That chain—it wasn't just metal. It was something his father had given him long ago.
He stood up.
The chair creaked.
His hand closed around the chain.
The man raised his right hand, reaching for it—but in an instant, Zord moved. Using the sharp edge of the chain, he struck swiftly and repeatedly. The man collapsed to the ground, unable to get back up.
The room froze.
No one spoke.
Firelight reflected in Zord's eyes as he looked down.
"I'm a little busy right now," he said coldly. "Next time, I'll give you the chain."
He returned to his seat.
No one spoke.
The boy placed the glass of water in front of Zord with trembling hands.
"Hey, boy," Zord said after taking a sip. "I'm looking for a man. His name is Cathadoc. He used to come here often."
The boy swallowed.
"Yes… I remember him. But it's been quite a while since he last showed up. When he left, he was very angry about something."
"Do you know where he lives?" Zord asked. "Tell me if you do."
The boy hesitated.
"He tried to hide it. Cathadoc warned me never to tell anyone his location."
Before he could continue, an old man's voice spoke from behind.
"Near the end of this place," the old man said calmly. "There's a house beneath the hill, by the lake. He lives there… all alone."
Zord stood up. The chair creaked once more.
He walked toward the door. Three men stepped in his way, blades drawn.
They never stood a chance.
Moments later, they lay motionless on the ground.
"You never know when to quit," Zord said quietly. "How pathetic."
Outside, he mounted his horse. The path ahead sloped downward, leading toward the lake. The night sky shimmered with countless stars, reflecting off the water like scattered diamonds.
From afar, he saw a faint light—a fire burning inside a house.
The horse stopped at a distance.
Zord dismounted and walked forward. The closer he got, the stronger the strange feeling became.