Darkness.
That was all he could see.
Then, slowly, a faint light appeared.
Mason's eyelids trembled before gradually opening.
For a moment, everything before him was a blur. He could barely distinguish the shapes around him, and a dull ache spread throughout his body.
He blinked several times, trying to bring his surroundings into focus.
Where am I?
He tried to move, but his body felt heavy. After a few seconds, he managed to lift his head slightly.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar.
He turned his head from side to side, studying the surroundings as his vision slowly improved. The faint light entering through the fabric walls revealed that he was lying on a bed inside a tent.
His breathing grew unsteady.
What happened?
He tried to recall what had brought him there, but his thoughts felt scattered.
Then, suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind.
His father.
Mason's eyes widened.
"Father…"
He attempted to sit up, but a sharp pain spread through his upper body. He clenched his teeth and forced himself upright, supporting his weight with both hands.
"Father?"
His voice was weak.
He looked around the tent as though expecting Chad to appear from somewhere and tell him everything was fine.
But nobody answered.
Mason lowered his gaze.
His upper body was wrapped in bandages. More bandages circled his forehead, covering part of his head. His arms also carried signs of the injuries he had sustained.
He stared at them in confusion.
Why am I bandaged?
What happened to me?
His breathing became heavier as fragments of his memories began returning.
The village.
The battle.
Cadoc.
And then—
His father.
Mason froze.
"No…"
His fingers tightened around the edge of the bed.
"Father!"
The word escaped his mouth louder this time.
Still, there was no response.
He remained seated, staring at the floor as the memories continued to return.
He remembered Chad fighting Cadoc.
He remembered trying to help.
He remembered being unable to do anything.
And he remembered the terrible sight that had followed.
Mason's hands began to tremble.
"No… no, that can't be…"
He lowered his head.
For a few moments, he couldn't bring himself to think about what he had seen.
Then, voices reached his ears from outside the tent.
"…What exactly happened here?"
Mason slowly raised his head.
Another voice answered.
"We're still investigating, sir. But the devastation is far worse than we initially expected."
Mason turned toward the entrance.
Academy scouts?
He carefully pushed himself off the bed.
His legs wavered when his feet touched the ground, forcing him to steady himself against the bedpost.
Despite the pain, he took a few slow steps toward the tent's opening.
He didn't want anyone to notice him.
When he reached the curtains, he moved them aside just enough to see outside.
What he saw made him stop breathing for a moment.
The village had been devastated.
Bodies lay scattered across the area, while the surviving villagers stood among the ruins of their lives. Academy scouts moved from one place to another, examining the surroundings and trying to establish what had happened.
Some inspected the ground.
Others spoke to the survivors.
A few stood silently, their expressions darkened by the destruction before them.
Mason stared through the narrow opening.
It looked as though a war had taken place.
A war between two nations.
But this wasn't a battlefield between armies.
This was his village.
The place where he had grown up.
The place where his family had lived.
And now—
His gaze moved across the scene, searching for something he couldn't bring himself to name.
His father wasn't there.
At least, not where he could see him.
Mason swallowed hard.
"I can't believe it…"
His voice was barely audible.
"I still can't believe Father lost that battle."
He pressed one hand against the curtain.
"How could this happen?"
Outside, one of the scouts was questioning a woman who stood a short distance away.
"Ma'am, I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Did you see who attacked the village?"
The woman stood motionless.
Her clothes were dirty, and tears streamed down her face.
For several seconds, she couldn't answer.
Then she nodded weakly.
"The village…"
Her voice broke.
"The village is gone."
The scout remained silent, allowing her a moment to collect herself.
She looked around at the devastation.
"They killed everyone…"
Her tears fell faster.
"My son…"
She covered her mouth with one hand, struggling to continue.
"My son, Rohan…"
Her knees began to weaken.
"Why? Why did this happen to us?"
She sank to the ground, her cries breaking through the silence.
The scouts immediately rushed toward her.
"Ma'am!"
"Please, calm down!"
One of them knelt beside her, trying to help her stand, but she continued to weep.
"My son was supposed to have a future!"
Her voice trembled.
"He was supposed to grow old! Why did they take him away from me?"
Mason watched everything from behind the curtains.
He couldn't look away.
Every cry seemed to pierce him.
Every grieving face reminded him that he wasn't the only person who had lost someone.
The entire village had suffered.
And there was nothing he could do to change it.
One of the scouts stood nearby, surveying the bodies scattered across the area.
"Damn…"
He shook his head.
"So many corpses. It's hard to believe one person could cause this much destruction."
Another scout approached him.
"What's even worse is that we're hearing reports that the attacker was one of our own scouts from the academy."
The first scout turned toward him.
"One of our scouts?"
"That's what the surviving witnesses have told us. We need to investigate further and establish exactly who was responsible."
The first scout looked across the devastated village.
"This is unbelievable."
Before they could continue, another man approached them.
He appeared to be in charge of the investigation, judging by the way the other scouts immediately straightened when they noticed him.
"What's the situation?"
The two scouts saluted.
"Sir!"
The head scout glanced around.
"Have you finished examining the area?"
"Not yet, sir. We're still gathering information from the survivors."
"Continue your investigation, then. We need to establish the full circumstances of this incident."
He paused, looking at the bodies.
"And make sure every victim receives a proper funeral. Keep the bodies in the mortuary until arrangements have been made to bury them."
"Understood, sir."
The head scout nodded.
"We'll report everything to the Great Elder once our initial investigation is complete. Until then, nobody leaves without reporting what they've discovered."
The scouts immediately resumed their work.
Behind the curtains, Mason lowered his head.
He couldn't take it anymore.
The cries.
The bodies.
The endless reminders of what he had lost.
He felt as though the walls around him were closing in.
"I can't stay here."
He slowly backed away from the curtains.
If I stay any longer, I'll start having nightmares about this place.
His eyes moved around the tent, searching for a way out.
Then something caught his attention.
A sword rested near the other side of the tent.
Mason froze.
He recognized it immediately.
His father's sword.
For several seconds, he simply stared at it.
Chad had carried that sword through countless battles. It had been beside him during Mason's training and throughout the days when he had taught his son how to fight.
Now, Chad was gone.
But his sword remained.
Mason slowly approached it.
His fingers trembled as he reached down and wrapped his hand around the hilt.
He lifted the weapon carefully.
The familiar weight settled into his palm.
"Father…"
His voice broke.
He lowered his head, holding the sword close to himself.
For a moment, he wanted to remain there.
He wanted to believe that if he waited long enough, Chad would return and take the sword from his hands.
But he knew that wasn't going to happen.
Mason tightened his grip.
He couldn't remain in the tent.
He couldn't remain in the village.
Not now.
With his father's sword in hand, he turned toward the exit.
He pulled the curtains aside slightly and checked whether anyone was watching.
The scouts were still occupied with their investigation.
Mason slipped outside.
He kept his head lowered and moved quietly, doing his best to avoid drawing attention to himself.
Every step sent discomfort through his injured body, but he continued.
He had to leave.
He didn't know where he would go.
He didn't know what he would do next.
All he knew was that he couldn't stay there.
As he moved farther from the tent, he noticed several horses tied near a temporary camp.
Mason stopped.
He looked toward the scouts.
Nobody appeared to be watching him.
He turned back toward the horses.
Then, after a moment's hesitation, he made his decision.
He hurried toward them.
His movements were awkward because of his injuries, but he pushed through the pain. Reaching the nearest horse, he grabbed the reins and pulled himself onto its back.
He settled his father's sword beside him and tightened his grip on the reins.
For one last moment, he looked toward the village.
His eyes lingered on the place he had once called home.
Then he turned away.
"Hyah!"
The horse surged forward.
Its sudden movement disturbed the other horses, and one of them let out a loud neigh.
Several scouts immediately turned toward the sound.
"What's that?"
They saw a young man riding away from the camp.
"Hey! Stop!"
One scout rushed toward his own horse.
"That boy is stealing a horse!"
Another scout drew his sword and started running after Mason.
"Get him!"
But before they could pursue him, the head scout turned sharply.
"Stop!"
The pursuing scouts halted.
"Sir?"
The head scout continued watching the boy riding into the distance.
He studied Mason's figure for a moment.
He recognized him, although he didn't know the boy personally.
He had seen enough to understand who he was.
"Let him go."
The scout holding his sword stared at him.
"But, sir, he's taking one of our horses!"
"I said let him go."
The head scout's voice left no room for argument.
The men slowly lowered their weapons.
They watched Mason disappear farther into the distance.
"I think he's had enough for today."
Another scout frowned.
"What do you mean? He's still stealing my horse sir!"
His companion gave him a friendly slap on the back.
"Then ride mine."
The man stared at him.
"Ah, damn. You're lucky, friend."
He looked toward the road where Mason had disappeared.
"Hey! You! Come back and take mine instead!"
Nobody answered him.
The head scout ignored their exchange.
His gaze remained fixed on the distant road.
"That boy…"
He shook his head slowly.
"At such a young age, he's already experienced a tragedy most people could never imagine."
He lowered his eyes.
"Such a pity."
For a moment, he remembered the devastated village and the grieving survivors.
"I wouldn't wish something like that on anyone I know."
He sighed.
"I pray he survives."
Far away, Mason continued riding.
His injured body swayed slightly with every movement of the horse.
One hand held the reins.
The other rested near his father's sword.
He didn't look back.
Not once.
He simply continued forward, leaving the village behind.
But no matter how far he rode, he couldn't escape the memories following him.
His father's face.
His final words.
And the promise Mason had made.
A promise of vengeance.
Meanwhile, in the Forest…
A heavy silence hung over the battlefield.
The ground was scorched, and broken branches lay scattered across the clearing. The air still carried the lingering heat of the battle that had taken place there.
Then—
Thud!
Varek's body collapsed onto the ground.
He lay motionless, unconscious after his defeat.
A short distance away, Duke Mighty remained in his fighting stance.
Both hands were raised, each gripping a dagger. His knees were bent, and his body leaned forward as he watched Varek carefully.
Even though his opponent had fallen, Duke didn't immediately lower his weapons.
He continued staring at him.
His breathing was uneven.
Sweat ran down his face, even with his injured left arm he still maintained his stance.
The battle had taken a heavy toll on him.
For several seconds, he remained still.
Then, finally, his strength gave way.
Duke lowered his daggers.
His knees straightened slightly before he sank to the ground and sat down.
He released a long breath.
"Damn…"
His voice was weak.
He looked down at his left hand.
It was badly bruised, and the pain made it difficult to move it properly.
He clenched his jaw.
That was close.
He had managed to defeat Varek, but the victory had come at a cost.
Before he could gather his thoughts, someone shouted his name.
"Duke!"
He raised his head.
Lena was running toward him.
She stopped in front of him, her expression filled with concern.
"Duke, are you okay?"
She quickly examined him.
"Your left hand.."
Duke glanced at his left hand.
"It's nothing."
"Nothing?" Lena repeated, clearly unconvinced. "Look at the state of your hand!"
Duke gave a tired smile.
"I said it's nothing."
Lena frowned but didn't argue further.
A moment later, Janelle approached them.
She looked at Varek's unconscious body before turning her attention to Duke.
For a brief moment, she seemed unable to find the right words.
Then she smiled.
"I have to admit, Duke. I didn't know you were this strong."
Duke looked at her.
Janelle crossed her arms.
"I knew you were capable, but I didn't expect you to take down an opponent like him."
She gave him an approving nod.
"I'll give you that much."
Duke let out a faint laugh.
"I'm waiting."
Janelle raised an eyebrow.
"For what?"
"For you to say something like that again."
She stared at him for a second before shaking her head.
"You're unbelievable."
Lena sighed in relief, glad to see that Duke could still joke despite his injuries.
But while the two women stood beside him, Duke's smile slowly faded.
Strong?
He lowered his gaze toward his daggers.
I don't think I'm strong.
His fingers tightened around the weapons.
I don't even know if I'm strong enough to enter the academy.
He stared at the ground.
What am I even saying?
He had just defeated a dangerous opponent.
He had survived a battle that could easily have ended differently.
Yet, instead of feeling proud, he found himself questioning his own abilities.
Was this really enough?
Would he be able to stand against the people he would eventually meet at Legion Academy?
He didn't know.
Before he could continue thinking, a distant sound interrupted him.
Neigh!
Horses.
Duke raised his head.
Lena and Janelle turned toward the sound as well.
Several riders emerged between the trees, moving quickly toward the clearing.
There were six scouts, each wearing the uniform of Legion Academy.
The one at the front surveyed the battlefield as he approached.
"What's going on here?"
He brought his horse to a stop.
"We heard a commotion in this area, so we hurried over as quickly as possible. What happened?"
Janelle immediately stood straight.
She saluted.
Lena followed her example.
Duke, however, remained seated on the ground, looking toward the newcomers.
Janelle answered.
"We were sent on a mission to bring a group of bandits to justice. We've managed to deal with the situation."
The head scout glanced at Varek.
Then he looked at the damaged clearing.
Apprentices?
He studied Duke, Janelle, and Lena.
They managed to handle a battle like this?
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I see."
He turned toward his men.
"We'll take over the investigation from here."
The scouts began dismounting.
The head scout looked back at the three apprentices.
"I assume you know the route you're supposed to follow."
"Yes, sir," Janelle answered.
"Good. We'll investigate the area and make sure there are no other bandits hiding nearby."
His gaze shifted to Duke.
"However, that young man needs medical attention. Take him to the hospital as soon as possible."
"Understood, sir."
Janelle saluted again.
Lena did the same.
The head scout gestured toward two of his men.
"You two. Escort them back to the academy hospital."
"Yes, sir!"
The two scouts approached their horses and prepared them for the journey.
Janelle turned toward Duke.
"Come on. Let's get you to the hospital."
Duke looked at his injured hand once more before carefully pushing himself to his feet.
Lena moved beside him, ready to support him if necessary.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
"Then prove it by letting us help you," Lena replied.
Duke gave her a sideways glance.
She stared back at him.
After a moment, he sighed.
"Fine."
With the help of Janelle and Lena, Duke mounted one of the horses.
The two women mounted as well.
The head scout watched them prepare to leave.
"Be careful on your way back."
"We will," Janelle replied.
The three apprentices saluted once more.
Then the horses began moving.
The scouts remained behind, spreading out across the clearing to examine the battlefield and search for any remaining threats.
As Duke and the others disappeared between the trees, the head scout turned toward Varek's unconscious body.
His expression hardened.
"What exactly happened here?"
He stepped forward.
"We need to find out."
Legion Academy — The Grand council Chamber
Inside the Grand council Chamber, a meeting was underway.
Great Elder Neil sat at the head of the room, listening to the elders gathered before him.
Bruno stood nearby, his expression calm and attentive.
The conversation continued, but the subject they were discussing remained unclear to anyone outside the room.
Then—
Knock! Knock!
The sound echoed against the heavy iron door.
The elders fell silent.
Neil slowly turned his gaze toward the entrance.
Bruno glanced at the door before looking back at the Great Elder.
"Someone is here."
Neil gave a slight nod.
"Find out who it is."
Bruno approached the door.
"Who is it?"
A voice answered from the other side.
"Scout Brooke, sir. I have returned from a mission."
Bruno paused.
"Scout Brooke?"
"Yes, sir."
Bruno turned toward Neil.
"Great Elder, it's Scout Brooke. He's requesting permission to enter."
Neil's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Brooke?"
He considered the interruption for a moment.
Then he spoke.
"Let him in."
Bruno turned back toward the door.
"You may enter."
The door opened.
Scout Brooke stepped inside, accompanied by two other scouts.
All three immediately saluted.
"Great Elder Neil!"
Neil looked at them.
"At ease."
The scouts lowered their hands.
Brooke stepped forward while his two companions remained behind him.
His expression was unusually serious.
Neil noticed it immediately.
"Brooke, what brings you here?"
Brooke hesitated.
For a moment, he seemed to struggle with how to begin.
Then he took a breath.
"Great Elder, I have something to report."
Neil leaned back slightly.
"Go on."
Brooke lowered his head.
"I'm afraid it's not good news, sir."
The room became quiet.
Neil's expression changed.
"Not good news?"
He studied the scout carefully.
What could have happened?
Beside him, Bruno remained silent, watching Brooke with a sharp, observant gaze.
Neil rested one hand on the arm of his chair.
"Go on, Brooke."
His voice was calm, but his eyes had grown serious.
"I'm listening."
Brooke raised his head.
He opened his mouth to speak—
And the room fell silent.