What Hans feared the most…
Memories erupted in Hans's mind, pulling him back to the worst moment of his life: the massacre of Sharrah. The sight of blood staining every corner and the suffocating stench of death brought back the moment that had forever altered his destiny.
He sat down, trying to push the memories away, but he couldn't.
At eighteen years old, Hans had been expelled from Sharrah University, full of dreams of returning to his hometown and living with his family. But when he arrived in New Sharrah in the summer of 824, he was met with a horrifying scene: soldiers tearing the city apart, blood flooding the streets, and screams echoing everywhere. He ran to his home, only to find it reduced to rubble. Amid the wreckage, he heard a faint voice. When he approached, he discovered his father, Ludwig Knar, barely alive.
Clutching his father, who could barely breathe, Ludwig spoke in a broken voice:
"Run, Hans… they killed your mother… your sister… they took her… run!" With those words, Ludwig drew his last breath.
Hans sat on the ground, crying uncontrollably, until the sound of a loud commotion broke through his grief.
A group of armed dolls entered through a nearby door.
Hans crawled silently away from them, but when he returned to the room, he saw a doll holding a crying infant. He shut the door quickly, clutching his knees in despair. His inner voice screamed:
"I'll die if I don't do something."
Guilt weighed heavily on him as he left the room, abandoning the infant behind.
Outside, the forest was eerily quiet, but the stillness didn't last long. Hans soon saw the dolls carrying mutilated bodies, crying children, and severed heads. He collapsed to his knees in horror before rushing back into the mansion.
"What kind of fate has brought me here?" he whispered to himself. Then he remembered the infant. Steeling himself, he muttered,
"This is what I've dreamed of—a real adventure… That baby will die if I don't act."
Gathering his courage, he followed the sound of the crying.
He arrived at a door decorated with terrifying carvings. In the middle of the hall beyond, a man wearing a red hood stood surrounded by dolls, each holding a human head that dripped with blood.
Hans cautiously opened the door and peeked inside.
He saw a massive hall drenched in the scent of death. Corpses were scattered everywhere, as if a battle had just ended. In the center was a glowing red circle illuminated by the pale moonlight. A man with sharp features and blond hair sat in the middle, savoring the fingers of a murdered woman.
"Beauty fades, just as your fingers have, my lovely," the man said in a cold voice.
Hans vomited at the horrific sight, while the dolls laughed and carried the crying infant.
The hooded man shouted excitedly:
"What a delightful sound! The sound of fear and helplessness!" He cradled the child like a father holding his baby, but when the infant bit his finger, the man's face contorted, and he suddenly collapsed.
Moments later, the hooded man awoke with a twisted smile and hurled the infant's head to the ground.
Taking out a small notebook, he dipped his pen in the baby's blood and began writing. A demonic circle formed on the floor, and from it emerged a grotesque creature with three legs, black fur, cracked skin, and a long snake-like tongue.
The hooded man wiped the blood from his face, kissed the beast's head, and disappeared into the circle after the monster devoured the infant.
The man's eyes turned toward Hans: "Did you enjoy the show?"
Hans froze but feigned confidence: "Why would anyone follow a lunatic like you?"
The hooded man smirked. "We're all tools, Green-Coat. We exist to be part of the story."
"Whose story? I want to kill the writer."
"You can't. He's the Driver—the one who revels in destruction, and we're just his tools."
Hans drew his pen. "You're from the Wampri family, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm the sole heir of the Wampri family."
Hans scoffed. "An heir? Look at your face and the abominations surrounding you."
The hooded man's expression darkened. "Watch your tongue when speaking of nobility."
Hans gave a cold smile. "Too bad you won't live to prove it. This is my first story."
The hooded man advanced calmly. "Your ambition is admirable, but naïve."
The moon brightened behind him, and his glowing blue eyes locked onto Hans.
"You're just a tool of the Driver. Do you even know who you are?"
"I don't care. I'm free."
The hooded man laughed. "No one is free in this world."
Snapping his fingers, the hooded man unleashed a swarm of violet spheres at Hans. Hans threw a magic stone, detonating the spheres before they could reach him.
Then, shards of glass hurtled toward Hans. He had no choice but to shield himself with his coat, feeling the shards slowly tear into him.
He detonated another stone beneath him, escaping the assault while bleeding. Exhausted and terrified, Hans felt a strange rush of excitement.
"Is this what adventurers feel when they escape death?" he wondered.
The hooded man pulled out his notebook and began writing with fresh blood. The hall's color shifted, the moon turned a deeper shade of red, and a crimson beam shot toward Hans.
Hans felt danger closing in as his left hand began transforming into a wooden doll. He collapsed, his body slowly changing.
"This is the end," he thought. Using his remaining hand, he reached for his pen and notebook, which had fallen nearby. Crawling desperately, he bit into his own left hand to regain control. Despite the excruciating pain, he managed to grab his notebook and tear out a page, creating a surge of electricity that halted the transformation.
Hans stood, laughing. "Your transformation magic is pathetic."
The hooded man screamed in frustration. "How didn't you change?"
"Your spells are rudimentary. They lack blending. You're just an amateur."
Enraged, the hooded man shouted, "How can someone like you defeat me?"
Hans smirked. "Let me show you the art of blending."
He threw a page that erupted into fireballs.
The hooded man countered with a glass wave, wounding Hans in the neck. Blood flowed as the man let out a victorious roar—only to feel a sudden, searing pain in his side. Turning, he saw Hans grinning as fiery orbs hurled him away.
Hans chuckled. "See? That's blending—using all forms of magic at once. I deceived you with an illusion, played with your mind, and struck when you least expected."
The hooded man, retreating in anger, snarled:
"How can someone like you challenge the Driver's tool? The Driver is with me! I am the Driver!"
"The Driver doesn't matter. This is my story now."
The hooded man summoned spears of blood, but Hans used a magical scroll to release a white foam that trapped the spears mid-air.
"How?" the hooded man gasped.
Hans laughed. "You're pitiful. This scroll? It's from a basic market—nothing special."
He stomped on the hooded man's head, forcing him into submission.
"Please!" the man begged. "I'm just a servant of the Driver!"
Hans ignored him. With a snap of his fingers, he ignited the foam, engulfing the man in unending flames.
As he walked away, the man's screams echoed through the halls—a symphony for Hans's amusement.
"How was I afraid?" Hans mused. "He was so weak."
Using a healing scroll, he patched up his wounds and exited the mansion.
Outside, the dolls surrounded him.
The largest doll yelled: "You killed our master! Attack him!"
But Hans threw a stone of concealment, vanishing into the forest.
Humming a tune, Hans gazed at the road ahead. "Adventure feels incredible! My body's tingling. Now, world, Hans Ludwig Knar is coming—and I will explore every corner!"
Near the outskirts of another village, Hans began writing about his adventure aloud. "Should I write a song?"
He tried but quickly realized how difficult it was.
"Forget it. I'll give it to Savak to sing at the tavern."