Shun slowly took his ID back and stuffed it into his pouch, his movements were rough, distracted. His head felt noisy—thoughts piling up, pulling in different directions. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. Still, running in circles wouldn't give him answers. He needed to see it himself. He needed to go home and find out why his family looked like they had erased him.
He drew in a long breath, held it, then let it out through his nose. Calm down. One step at a time.
Shun turned and headed for the exit.
"Wait," the receptionist called.
She leaned slightly over the counter. "At the back of the building… There's a young horse tied there. I'll give him to you. Take good care of him, alright?"
Shun paused. Then he smiled… small, genuine—and nodded. He raised a hand in thanks before stepping out.
As Shun disappeared from view, the receptionist's smile faded. Her shoulders sank, and she stared at the doorway for a long moment, worry settling into her expression.
Shun immediately went around the back of the Guild HQ, boots scraping against gravel as he craned his neck left and right.
"Where is he… where is he…" he muttered, pacing a few steps, already impatient.
Then he spotted it.
A young brown horse stood tied near the fence, broad-chested and thick with muscle—the kind usually hitched to heavy carriages. Its coat looked healthy, its legs solid. A dependable build. Shun's eyes lit up as he approached, slow and careful, excitement bubbling up despite himself.
For a moment, his mind drifted. He imagined himself clad in armor, cape fluttering, riding across open plains like one of those heroic knights from old tales.
"Hiiiii…" he said softly. "I'm your new owne—"
The horse lifted its head.
Shun froze.
One eye looked straight at him. Then—no, wait—another eye seemed to swivel somewhere else entirely.
The horse was chewing on a shoe.
A full shoe.
Shun stared, mouth slightly open. "…Huh."
He blinked, then shrugged it off. "Heh. Whatever."
He reached down and untied the rope, patting the horse's neck like this was all perfectly normal. "Who cares about your eyes."
With a dramatic hop, Shun climbed onto its back. He raised one arm into the air, chest puffed out. "Together, we'll conquer countless battles! We'll win as one—"
He pointed forward.
"MARCH, MY BELOVED HORSE!"
The horse didn't move.
It just chewed faster.
"Oii—" Shun leaned down and grabbed at the shoe. The horse immediately fought back, jerking its head away.
From nearby, a kid burst out laughing. "Dumbass."
Shun clicked his tongue, grinding his teeth as the kid ran off. "…This fucker," he muttered, gripping the reins tighter.
Shun fixed his gaze back on the horse.
It was banging its head lightly against the ground,
trying to knock a thought loose. Thud. Pause. Thud.
Shun stared for a long second, then sighed from deep in his chest. "No wonder that receptionist gave you to me," he muttered. "You're dumb as fuck."
The horse snorted.
"I'm gonna call you DumDum," Shun continued, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Fits you perfectly, you stupid horse."
DumDum flicked one ear, unimpressed, and went back to chewing on absolutely nothing.
Shun grabbed the reins and started walking, boots crunching against dirt as they passed through the outer gate and beyond the city walls, heading north.
He stopped once more and glanced back.
The capital of the Norvael Imperium—Arxen—rose behind him in layers of stone, towers catching the light, banners fluttering.
"Huh," Shun muttered. "Five damn years."
Five years of academy bullshit. Five years of scraping by. And three years since his family quietly cut him off, coin by coin, letter by letter.
"My own blood," he scoffed. "Those fuckers."
DumDum let out a loud neigh.
"Stop interrupting me," Shun snapped, tugging the reins. "I'm explaining my tragic backstory here."
His eyes drifted sideways.
At the edge of his vision, barely there, a familiar shape lurked—someone trying very hard not to be noticed. A figure half-hidden behind a rock. A lens catching light for just a flicker too long.
Shun smirked.
He tilted his head slightly and winked.
The cameraman jolted so hard the whole frame shook.
"Heh," Shun muttered, turning forward again. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
With a sharp tug on the reins, he started walking north, DumDum clopping along behind him.
Uncertain about the future—but one thing was certain.
An explosion was waiting ahead.