**Update Schedule Announcement
Starting this week,the novel will be updated onTuesday / Thursday / Saturday,with 3 chapters per week.
Thank you for your continued support and readership.
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Amid the suffocating darkness, Ryn could still faintly hear the sounds around him.
He could not move his body, not even to open his eyes.
The pain, once unbearable, had subsided into a dull numbness—
as if his body no longer belonged to him.
Hastened footsteps.
Voices, panicked and hurried, rose nearby, then faded into the distance.
"The wound… too deep…"
a trembling voice murmured.
"If we'd been any slower… he wouldn't have survived."
Ryn tried to grasp their words,
but they slipped away like smoke.
Then the voice he recognized most clearly rang out:
the village chief's.
"Lord Richard… the boy's condition is too grave."
"Even I… cannot save him," came the reply.
A brief silence fell,
only to be shattered by another voice.
"I know."
The tone was firm, cold, and unwavering—
Richard.
"But if we do nothing… he will die anyway."
A soft sob came from someone closer than the others.
"Grandfather… please…"
"Ryn must survive."
It was Liora's voice.
Ryn felt his heart twitch,
though he wasn't even sure it was still beating.
"Liora… leave."
The village chief's voice cut through sharply,
more commanding than Ryn had ever heard.
"This is not a child's matter."
Hesitant footsteps retreated slowly,
accompanied by muffled sobs that could not escape.
Then… silence.
"What do you propose?"
The village chief asked, his voice low and tense.
Richard drew a deep breath.
"The Rite of Tyra's Blessing."
The words shifted the atmosphere instantly.
Even Ryn… suspended between life and death… could feel it.
"No."
The village chief's reply was almost immediate.
"He's only fifteen."
"That ritual is far too dangerous."
"If Central finds out—"
"And if we do nothing?"
Richard interjected, his voice quiet but heavy enough to silence the other.
"This boy will die before our eyes."
The silence that followed felt longer than before.
Ryn felt as if time itself had stopped.
"He… is important to me,"
Richard continued, speaking slowly, choosing each word deliberately.
"I understand that… but—"
The village chief clenched his fists,
letting out a resigned sigh.
"…If it fails…"
"I will bear the responsibility myself,"
Richard said immediately.
After that,
Ryn heard nothing else.
Only the darkness, slowly consuming everything,
and the sound of his own heartbeat,
slowing… slowing…
The darkness was not silent.
It moved.
Twisted.
Like a black cloth, ripped and hastily stitched back together.
Ryn opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the flickering orange light.
—The village, that night—
Screams.
The smell of smoke.
A hand pressing him against the ground.
"Stay… alive…"
A woman's voice, gentle but trembling.
Her other arm held him tightly—too tightly.
A burst of light erupted.
Hot.
Blinding.
As if the world itself was tearing apart.
The image shattered.
—
He fell onto the cold stone.
The sky above held no stars,
only a white fissure, like a wound.
A woman stood before him, clad in armor.
The light around her was so bright that her face was impossible to see.
The hand that should have been warm
was pulled away.
A voice rang out—cold, emotionless.
"You should never have been born."
Ryn tried to reach out,
but the world contracted,
folding in on itself.
—
Laughter.
Dorn slapped him on the shoulder too hard.
Marek was shouting at someone.
Sil stood farther away, silent like a shadow.
Tarin… was talking without pause.
"If I arrange the troops like this—"
The words cut off mid-sentence, as if someone had sliced them away.
Drops of blood fell to the ground.
One. Two.
Ryn looked down at his hands—stained red.
The image shattered again.
—
A voice rang out, distant but clear.
"Ryn…"
He turned—no one was there.
"Ryn… come back."
The same voice, closer now, trembling.
"Ryn!"
He tried to answer,
but no sound came from his mouth.
The ground beneath his feet began to sink,
like mud.
Images overlapped—
the female warrior, fire, blood, light, shadows,
hands reaching out… only to be pulled away again.
"Come back…"
This time, the voice was so close it hurt.
—
Rin jolted awake.
His breath caught in his chest, as if something had violently pulled him back into his own body.
His heart was pounding—far too fast.
A voice echoed close to his ear, trembling, soaked with tears.
"He's still breathing…"
Light seeped through his closed eyelids.
Hot, but not painful.
And within that darkness, Rin heard one final voice before everything faded once more.
"Rin…"
Liora's voice.
This darkness was quieter than before.
No visions.
No fire.
No roars.
Only emptiness—
strangely warm.
Within that void, faint motes of light drifted lazily through the air,
thin like mist,
glimmering softly like golden dust.
Rin didn't know what they were.
But the feeling they carried…
was gentle.
Harmless.
As if they were silently embracing him.
He could feel himself breathing,
yet had no sense of where his body was.
A voice spoke again—soft, close,
as though afraid of waking someone.
"Rin…"
Silence.
"If it hurts… it's okay."
The voice quivered slightly, as if holding back tears.
Something warm brushed against his hand.
Gentle.
Not pulling.
Not forcing.
Just… there.
The faint light drifted between his fingers,
quietly responding to his touch.
"I'm still here."
Ryn didn't know where "here" was.
But he knew one thing—
If he didn't open his eyes,
that voice would disappear.
His heartbeat slowed,
falling into a rhythm.
And in the darkness, a figure stood.
Not a dream.
Not a memory.
Tarin stood before him—
no blood, no wounds.
Just a faint smile,
the kind he wore when a plan had succeeded.
"You… really have bad luck,"
the voice said clearly.
Ryn tried to speak,
but no sound came out.
Tarin turned and walked away slowly.
"Don't try to think for everyone again,"
he paused, looking back.
"You have to walk on your own now."
The figure gradually faded,
along with the emptiness that had begun to crack apart.
Soft light filtered through his eyelids.
The scent of herbs, aged wood, and the warmth of a blanket reached him.
Ryn opened his eyes slowly.
A wooden ceiling, unfamiliar, appeared above his head.
"Ha—You're awake!"
A voice shouted immediately, before a figure could get too close.
It was Liora.
Her eyes were red, tears welling up,
but her wide smile could not be contained.
"I'll go get Grandfather right now!"
She didn't wait for an answer,
running out of the room as if she had forgotten every order.
Not long after, footsteps approached again.
"I told you to stay away from him,"
the village chief's voice was firm,
but carried a note of relief.
Liora lowered her head,
but couldn't help sneaking a glance at Ryn.
Richard stood beside him, arms crossed,
his sharp gaze as piercing as ever.
"After a rite like that, some awaken in madness,"
he said evenly.
"You were careless."
Liora pressed her lips together,
offering no argument.
The village chief approached the bed.
"You've been asleep for five days."
Ryn frowned, his body still heavy and sluggish.
"The rite… has succeeded,"
he said slowly, choosing each word deliberately.
"You… have passed the trial."
Richard spoke next.
"And because of that, you cannot stay here any longer."
He looked Ryn directly in the eyes.
"You must set out for Central immediately."
"All the necessities have been prepared,
and I will personally escort you there."
Dawn came slowly to the village.
A thin mist hovered close to the ground.
Traces of last night's battle remained along the broken wooden walls,
and bloodstains had yet to fade.
Ryn stood at the village gate,
a small canvas bag slung over his back.
His body still felt heavy,
as if something within him had not yet settled.
But he did not ask a single question.
Richard was already waiting.
The silver armor of the Arch Knight reflected the pale morning light.
"It's time," he said simply.
Ryn nodded,
then stepped forward,
following without looking back.
Not far away,
Liora stood beneath the shadow of a tree.
Her slight frame seemed even smaller against the wide-open village gate.
Her eyes followed the boy's retreating back,
her lips pressed tightly together,
hands gripping the edge of her tunic without realizing it.
"Liora"
the village chief's deep voice called from behind.
He followed the same path with his gaze,
then spoke with solemn authority:
"What happened here…
must never be spoken of."
Liora said nothing.
She only nodded faintly,
her eyes still fixed on the same road.
Soon, the shadows of Ryn and Richard disappeared into the morning mist,
as if they had never been there at all.
Leaving behind only a silent village
and the secret buried since that morning.