James – POV
The wooden gate closed behind us with a dull, final thud.
For a brief moment, the sound echoed in my chest rather than my ears.
The last thing I saw through the narrowing gap was Sister Jean—standing straight despite the weight on her shoulders, her eyes sharp yet warm, her hand raised in silent encouragement. She didn't shout. She didn't wave wildly. She simply nodded once, firmly, as if telling me that hesitation had no place beyond this point.
I returned the gesture.
That was all I could do.
The gate sealed completely, severing the world I had grown familiar with from the unknown path ahead.
And just like that, my journey truly began.
Mother… Father… Brother… Sister…
I didn't know where you are now—or if you even exist somewhere beneath this vast, unfamiliar sky. But wait for me. Wherever you are, wait.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
I will find you—even if I have to search beyond the deepest stars.
But before that… I needed strength.
Not borrowed strength. Not temporary power.
I needed the kind of power that could transcend planets—the kind spoken of only in legends. Tier six or something beyond it. Beings who stood above worlds and bent reality itself.
Even if such things were myths… wasn't my very existence here proof that impossibility meant nothing in this world?
I had crossed worlds. I had awakened in a land governed by strength and blood. If that could happen, then nothing was truly beyond reach.
My resolve hardened.
Suddenly—
A heavy hand clapped down on my shoulder.
"Hahaha! Brother, are you already missing Sister Jean?" a familiar, obnoxious voice boomed beside my ear. "You've only been separated for a few seconds! What a crybaby!"
I sighed.
Of course.
Mike.
I turned my head to see him grinning widely, his round face practically glowing with amusement. His massive frame loomed beside me like a walking hill, his presence impossible to ignore.
"Don't be stupid," I replied calmly. "You're the one who looks like you'll cry once the food runs out."
"Tch!" Mike clicked his tongue. "Cruel. Heartless."
Before I could respond, another voice sliced through the air—sharp, venomous, and deliberately loud.
"A crybaby should go home and drink his mother's milk."
I froze.
"So—oops," the boy continued with a laugh dripping in malice, "I forgot. From what I heard, you don't even have parents. They're probably monster dung by now, huh? Lost Soul."
The air around us changed instantly.
Mike's body tensed.
I could feel it—the shift in pressure, the barely restrained fury rolling off him in waves.
"Tony," Mike said slowly, his voice dangerously low, "shut your filthy mouth before I rip it open."
The boy—Tony—scoffed, though his eyes flickered with hesitation.
"Tsk. You're just the son of that lucky bitch who stole my father's position," Tony spat. "Don't act tough."
That was it.
Mike took a step forward.
His massive body surged like a landslide, veins bulging along his thick arms.
"You stupid piece of trash," Mike snarled. "First you insult my brother. Now you insult my mother."
His lips curled into a savage grin.
"Let me check if you're missing a few screws in that empty head of yours."
I moved instantly.
I stepped in front of Mike and grabbed his arm, planting my feet into the ground with everything I had.
The result was… absurd.
Trying to stop Mike felt like trying to restrain a charging boulder with a thin wooden log.
For a brief, ridiculous moment, I wondered if I would end up being dragged across the ground—or worse, mounted on his back like some sort of oversized pig.
No. Absolutely not.
I refuse to let my dignity die like this.
"Mike," I said sharply, tightening my grip. "Enough."
He paused.
That alone was impressive.
Behind Tony, several other youths shifted uneasily. Mike stood nearly two meters tall, his body alone enough to intimidate anyone our age. Even if most of it was fat, no one doubted the monstrous strength hidden beneath.
Tony swallowed and took an involuntary step back.
Before things could escalate further, a cold, commanding voice echoed from the front of the group.
"Tony. That's enough. Move."
The words were calm—but carried undeniable authority.
Jerd.
He stood ahead with two other boys beside him, posture straight, eyes indifferent. His presence alone seemed to suppress the chaos around him. Tony stiffened, his earlier arrogance evaporating instantly.
"S-sorry, Young Master," Tony muttered.
He hurried away, rejoining Jerd's group without another word.
Jerd didn't even spare Tony a glance.
His eyes briefly flicked toward me and Mike—cold, unreadable—before he turned away and continued walking.
Ahead of him, five girls moved together in a tight formation.
At their center was Hope.
Even amid the tension, she didn't slow her pace. Her posture remained straight, her steps steady, as if nothing around her was worth acknowledging.
Mike clicked his tongue loudly.
"Tsk."
The sound was thick with resentment.
"Hmph. Lucky bastard," Mike muttered. "One of these days, I'll break his bones."
He said it so casually that it sent a faint chill down my spine.
I exhaled slowly.
Violence was second nature here. I still hadn't accepted it fully—but I understood it better now.
I glanced at Mike and smirked faintly.
"That's enough," I said. "Your 'baby girls' are getting far ahead."
Mike blinked.
Then his head snapped forward.
"WHAT—?!"
His earlier fury vanished instantly, replaced by wide-eyed panic.
"Hey! They're really walking fast!"
And just like that, the storm was gone.
I couldn't help but chuckle.
This fat idiot was… truly one of a kind.
We followed the group deeper into the forest.
The air grew thicker, the sunlight filtering through towering trees, their roots coiling like serpents beneath the soil. The path narrowed, and the sounds of the village faded until only footsteps and distant bird calls remained.
Then—
It appeared.
At the heart of the forest stood a massive camp.
A towering structure of stone, wood, straw, and hardened hide rose before us—at least four floors tall, its presence oppressive yet awe-inspiring. It felt ancient, as though it had grown from the land itself rather than being built.
What caught my attention most were the runes.
Lines of glowing symbols carved into the tower's outer walls pulsed faintly, forming intricate patterns that hummed with restrained power. Six smaller towers—each two stories tall—surrounded the main structure, positioned in a perfect hexagonal formation.
Runic lines connected them all.
A formation.
A powerful one.
I felt a strange sensation crawl up my spine.
Whatever awaited us here—
This was no ordinary training camp.
And deep down, I knew—
Once we stepped inside, there would be no turning back.