"Once upon a time, the world was in grave danger. Horrible monsters began to appear, seemingly out of nowhere, plunging the world into chaos and destruction.
But just when everyone thought that all hope was lost…
The Hero emerged alongside the Seven Saints to push back the evil monsters!
The power of Hero and the Saints was so strong that normal people couldn't even begin to compare.
After all… All of them inherited the powers of a deity.
The Seven Saints received the grace of the Seven Worldly Gods, while the Hero… Well, the Hero was even more special!
The Hero received his power straight from the Highest Deity themself!
Armed with his legendary blade and the Seven Blessed Saints by his side, the Hero bravely fought back the evil monsters and sealed them away, once again bringing peace and prosperity back to the world.
After returning home following their long and eventful journey, the Hero and the Seven Saints lived together happily ever after.
…And if the world were to ever fall into the clutches of evil, the Hero and his Seven Blessed Saints will once again return to stop them!"
The soft rustling of paper echoed as a woman closed the storybook. Auburn-haired and elegant, she sat on the edge of a lavish white, blue, and gold bed, her gentle gaze falling upon the young auburn-haired boy nestled against her lap.
His eyes sparkled with wonder as he peeked up at her, his voice filled with curiosity. "Mom, did the Hero and the Saints really exist?"
A warm smile graced her lips as she ruffled his hair. "Yes, my dear. They walked this world long, long ago… Many hundreds of thousands of years before our time."
The boy's face lit up, his mind racing with thoughts of the grand battles between the brave heroes and the vile monsters.
While his childish mind struggled to imagine a battle of such colossal scale, it was pretty fun to try picturing it.
"Wow! If they could defeat such scary monsters, does that mean they were even stronger than you and Dad?"
A soft chuckle escaped her as she regarded him with amusement. "Your father and I are strong, yes. But compared to the Hero and the Seven Saints?" She shook her head, her expression turning wistful.
"They were blessed by the gods themselves. People like us, even at our strongest, are but mere ants in comparison. It is said that the Hero and his Saints could easily defeat the mightiest warriors, those ranked as 3-Star humans."
The boy's mouth fell slightly open in awe. He could barely fathom the strength of a 3-Star warrior, let alone one who could overcome them so effortlessly.
"I... I want to be strong when I grow up," he declared, his tiny fists clenched with determination. "Just like the Hero and the Saints!"
His mother's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Oh? And here I thought you wanted to be strong like your father and me. Have you already outgrown us? Your mother feels quite hurt…"
The boy straightened as he rose from her lap to face her directly. Though she sat at the bedside, his height was just enough to meet her gaze.
The boy's expression was fierce, filled with an innocent yet unwavering resolve.
The woman couldn't help but liken it to an adorable baby lion cub…Not that she would let her son know her thoughts, of course.
"If I want to protect you and Dad, the royal family, and the whole kingdom, I have to grow big and strong! Uncle Randolph said so! If I reach the Hero's level, then I can beat all the bad guys!"
His mother's expression softened as she pulled him into a warm embrace. "So young, yet already shouldering such noble burdens," she chuckled, her voice thick with pride. "You're a Lionheart, alright!"
"Mom… I'm not small anymore!" he huffed. "I'm already big enough to start training with a sword!"
A laugh bubbled from her lips as she gently kissed his forehead. "No matter how tall you grow or strong you get, you will always be my little baby boy... And that will never change."
Feeling a foreign warmth fill his heart, the boy melted into her embrace, gripping her tightly as though she might vanish at any moment.
However, a strange ache settled in his chest, like having his heart twisted.
He didn't know why he felt this way, but… It hurt in a way that no mere flesh wound could emulate.
"Mom…" his voice wavered, the warmth in his heart twisting into something cold. "I... I..."
Tears began to well in his eyes, and he clung to her even tighter.
"What is it, dear? Do you have something to say to me?"
He buried his face against her, unable to see her expression. But then… The air suddenly seemed to drop in temperature.
A sudden chill crawled down his spine.
"Are you seriously going to tell me that you'll protect me, son? Now, after all this time?" Her voice… it had changed. No longer warm and soothing but instead hollow and grating, like nails scratching at a chalkboard. "Don't you think... it's already far too late?"
His breath froze. Dread wrapped around him like unseen chains. Slowly, the boy lifted his head to meet his mother's gaze.
The loving face of his mother was gone.
In its place was a decayed corpse, hollow sockets where eyes once shone, its bony mouth twisted into an unearthly grin.
"Take a good look, son…" The once-melodic voice was now a shrill screech. "This is the fate awaiting everyone you try to protect. Soon, they will all be just... like... me…"
Terror crashed over him like a tidal wave. He struggled to escape, but her skeletal arms held him in a vice-like grip. There was no breaking free.
(BANG)
(BANG)
(BANG)
A sharp noise jolted him awake.
Gasping, a much older, auburn-haired young man sat upright, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. Sweat clung to his skin as he frantically scanned his surroundings.
Gone was the grand white, blue, and gold room. Instead, he found himself in a much simpler chamber—bare walls, dim lighting, a stark contrast to the warmth of his childhood.
(BANG)
(BANG)
(BANG)
The sound came again, accompanied by a muffled voice behind the door.
"Sir Blaine? Are you awake, sir?"
The remnants of the nightmare clung to him, but he exhaled slowly, pushing them down and shoving them back into the darkness where they belonged. His face, moments ago twisted in fear, was now an unreadable mask.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, padding toward the door. When he opened it, a young black-haired soldier clad in a crisp white military uniform with blue and gold accentuations stood before him.
Upon seeing him, the soldier immediately straightened, offering a sharp salute. "Apologies for disturbing you, sir… But there's an emergency. General Whitaker requests your immediate presence for debriefing."
After listening to the soldier's words, Blaine threw him a nod before turning around and closing the door behind him.
It was time to get to work.