Year 1000Summer — August 20
The sun rose gently over the Quan Empire, spilling warm light across rolling hills and endless green. Morning mist clung to the earth like a thin veil, drifting lazily between wooden houses and dirt paths. Birds cried from the branches of a massive forest bordering the village, their songs echoing into the quiet lives of the people who lived there.
This village had no name worth remembering.
It was small, forgotten, and peaceful.
On that day, two cries pierced the morning air.
Two children were born under the same sky, in different homes, to different families—yet bound by fate before either could open their eyes.
Both had black hair.
One child opened his eyes to the world with warm brown pupils, calm and observant. His parents named him Son.
The other stared back with eyes darker than midnight, sharp and unyielding even as an infant. His name was Ross.
No one noticed the strange coincidence. No one thought it mattered.
The world went on.
Ten Years Later
Clank.Clank.Clank.
The sharp sound of wooden swords echoed through the open training field near the village edge. Dust rose beneath bare feet, carried by the summer wind.
Two boys faced each other.
Son stood tall for his age, long black hair tied loosely behind his back, brown eyes focused yet playful. Across from him was Ross—short-haired, lean, his black eyes sharp with stubborn intensity.
Their wooden blades collided again, sparks of effort rather than fire.
"Hey, Ross," Son smirked, stepping back lightly. "You're still not strong enough to defeat me. You need to train harder."
Ross narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip."Let's see who's stronger today," he shot back. "A proper duel."
Son raised an eyebrow. "And the loser?"
"The loser obeys the winner for the next ten days."
A grin spread across Son's face."I accept."
Ross lifted his sword. "Then start."
Children gathered first. Then adults. Then elders. Soon, half the village surrounded the field.
This duel happened almost every day.
And yet—it never grew boring.
There was never a clear winner.
The strongest children of the village.
Cheers rose from all sides.
"ROSS! ROSS! ROSS!""SON! SON! SON!"
Clouds drifted across the sun, cooling the air. The wind picked up, carrying dust and laughter alike.
Son leaned forward."Today," he said, voice low, confident, "this duel will decide it."
The referee raised his hand."START!"
They clashed instantly.
Clank!Clank!Clank!
Wood met wood with brutal force. Neither held back. Their arms trembled from effort, feet digging into the dirt.
"Son is pushing Ross back!" someone shouted.
"No—Ross is turning it around!" another yelled.
Sweat dripped from their brows. Their breaths grew heavy. Muscles screamed.
Hours passed.
The sun dipped below the horizon.
And just like every time before—
Both boys collapsed onto the ground, laughing breathlessly.
A draw.
Again.
The villagers shook their heads, smiling, and slowly returned to their homes.
Son stared up at the darkening sky."Next time," he said, standing and offering a hand, "I'll win."
Ross took it, pulling himself up."In your dreams."
They walked home together beneath a clear night sky, stars shining cold and distant.
None of them knew—
This would be the last peaceful night.
Two kilometers away.
Four men moved through the forest like shadows, their speed unnatural. Long black coats fluttered behind them. On each right shoulder was stitched the same symbol—a ship-like emblem, old and unfamiliar.
"The village should be near," one said.
"Yes," another replied calmly.
The second man's voice hardened."Kill everyone. Don't leave a single one alive."
"Yes, sir."
The village slept.
Only ten to fifteen soldiers guarded it—men with spears and rusted blades, unprepared for what came.
A soldier at the gate squinted into the darkness.
"Something's coming from the forest!" he shouted.
The guards rushed forward.
THUMP.THUMP.THUMP.
Four soldiers dropped instantly.
Their skulls were gone—giant holes blasted clean through, blood and fragments splattering the dirt as if struck by invisible cannon fire.
Screams erupted.
"WAKE UP! RUN!"
Too late.
A long sword flashed.
A man was split from head to abdomen in a single stroke. His body fell apart a second later.
"W-Who are you?" a soldier cried, shaking in terror."Why are you—"
His head hit the ground.
"You don't need to know," the attacker laughed."Kill everyone."
Panic consumed the village.
The four men moved without mercy.
Babies.Elders.Women.Children.
No hesitation.
Blood soaked the streets.
Son hid inside his home with his parents and younger sister, Aliya. Her small hands trembled in his grip.
Then—
A man appeared.
No sound. No warning.
Son felt it instantly.
An overwhelming pressure crushed his chest. His legs refused to move. Tears streamed down his face as his mind screamed to run—yet his body disobeyed.
His father shouted, "Run! Take your sister!"
But before Son could move—
The man tore through them with his bare hands.
Blood sprayed the walls.
Son fell to his knees.
Aliya screamed.
The man grabbed her.
"Don't be afraid," Son said softly."You'll die instantly. No pain and after that will be my turn."
The man laughed."Do you think I'll give her an easy death?"
He ripped her arm from its socket.
Her screams shattered Son's soul.
Son whispered, voice breaking. "Please… stop…"
He tore out one of her eyes.
Then drove his hand through her chest—crushing her heart.
Silence.
The man leaned close.
"This is despair," he whispered."If you want revenge—come find me."
"My name is Richard Darwin."
He laughed and vanished.
Son remained kneeling.
Empty.
Elsewhere in the village—
Ross burst into his home to find bodies already cooling.
His mother lay lifeless, throat torn open.
His father tried to stand.
A blade pierced his chest.
Ross screamed and charged.
The man backhanded him into the wall.
Bones cracked.
"Too weak," the man muttered, walking away.
Ross lay in blood, staring at the ceiling.
Alive.
But broken.
That night, the village ceased to exist.
Two boys survived.
Not by strength.
But by cruelty.
And from that night onward—
Their lives belonged to hatred.