He didn't remember running. Only fire. Screams.
The sound of pursuit — demons roaring, humans shouting through the night.
For two days he stumbled through ash and ruin, wounded and starving, the Hero's voice echoing in his mind.
The woman will slow us down.
By the time he reached the city gates, his feet were bleeding and his breath came in ragged gasps.
The guards didn't even see the child collapse at their feet until the medics found him among the bodies.
When he woke, the world was white — bandages, clean sheets, the soft hum of healing magic.
"You're safe now," a woman whispered. A doctor. Gentle voice.
But safety was a word Arin no longer believed in.
Then the door opened.
A man stepped in, his armor shining — a Hero.
Arin froze. His heart stopped.
Memories screamed.
The Hero saw him hiding behind the bed. His eyes softened… and then, quietly, he turned and walked away without a word.
Arin didn't move for a long time.
He just sat there, staring at the empty doorway as the morning light crept across the floor — the first dawn of a world he no longer recognized.
A week had passed since the night Arin's world ended.
The cries, the fire, his mother's voice—
All of it still echoed inside him.
The doctors said he was lucky to be alive.
He didn't feel lucky.
With no relatives, the city guards sent him to the North Orphanage — a quiet place filled with children whose lives had also been taken by war.
A month later, Imperial officials arrived.
"Every orphan will choose their path," they said. "A future fit for their talent."
When Arin's turn came, he didn't hesitate.
"I'll become an adventurer," he said. "I'll kill the Death God."