"What the hell?" he muttered, still processing the fact that his own father had just slapped him senselessly.
He looked up—eyes questioning, burning.
His father's expression was something Zen had never seen before.
Not anger.
Not disappointment.
It was just pure terror.
"F-Father…" Zen's voice trembled.
He wasn't crying. He wasn't angry.
He was in shock.
The sting on his cheek barely registered. The weight of his father's fear pressed down on him far heavier than the slap.
The sound had been loud—loud enough to bring his mother and sister rushing outside. His mother's eyes fell on him first, then on the Core lying beside him.
Her face fell.
"Oh, Zen…" she whispered, her voice laced with sorrow. She stepped closer, her hands trembling. "What have you done, my little boy?"
His father hadn't moved. He stood frozen, eyes still locked on the Core. His mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"We should go inside," she said softly.
His father didn't argue. Didn't say a word. He just turned and walked into the house, his steps slow and heavy.
Zen still couldn't make sense of it.
What was happening?
His sister knelt beside him, helping him to his feet. He barely registered the people gathering outside—watching, whispering.
Because, of course, who didn't love a family drama unfolding in real-time?
Inside, his father collapsed to the ground, both hands clutching his head like he was mourning a death. His mother knelt beside him, whispering words of comfort, but even she looked lost.
Then, suddenly—
"RUN."
The word shot through the air like a blade.
Zen flinched.
His father's voice was wild, desperate.
"Run. As far as you can."
His mother sobbed. His sister, standing beside him, looked just as confused as he was.
Zen's chest tightened. His breath came in short, uneven gasps.
Then, something inside him snapped.
"WHY?!" he shouted, his voice shaking, but his stance firm.
"WHY SHOULD I RUN? I ALMOST DIED GETTING THAT CORE FOR US! IT WILL TAKE US TO THE HIGHLANDS, SAVE US FROM FLOODS, AND WE WILL LEAVE THERE PEACEFULLY. I DID IT FOR ALL OF US"
His father's head snapped up.
"SHUT UP!" he roared. "DON'T SAY ITS NAME!"
The room fell silent.
A chill ran down Zen's spine.
His father looked… broken.
After a long, suffocating pause, his voice came again—this time, calm.
"…Zen."
His father's voice was calm now, but it carried the weight of something final. Something undeniable.
"This won't save us," he said, his eyes shadowed with despair. "It will kill us."
Zen's fingers twitched. His mind struggled to catch up.
"What…?"
His father exhaled sharply, running a trembling hand through his graying hair.
"The thing you brought home—" he gestured toward the Core, his voice dropping to a whisper as if even speaking of it was dangerous. "It's illegal. We are not supposed to hunt those things. It is forbidden. Only the Knights of the Highlands are allowed to claim them."
Zen's stomach dropped.
"If they so much as get a whiff of it—" his father's hands clenched into fists. "They'll come for us. They will hunt us down."
Silence.
Zen's mind spun, but no words came out. No one had ever told him this.
All this time… He thought he was saving them.
His father's voice softened, but his eyes held a plea.
"Take the Core and run. As far as possible."
Zen's breath caught in his throat.
"Be careful with it," his father continued. "If you manage to sell it, don't come back. Not to this house, not to this town. If you do…" His father's voice broke. "We will all die."
Zen stood there, his pulse hammering in his ears.
Sins.
He called it sins.
Zen clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms.
I just wanted to save my family… my town…
And now I'm a sinner?
His jaw tightened.
What the fuck is this world?
"I'll just leave the Core in the woods and come back."
Zen's voice was tight, desperate for a way out. A way home.
His father shook his head, the weight of his years pressing down on his shoulders. "You can't."
Zen swallowed. "Why not?"
His father took a slow breath, his next words crushing the last of Zen's hopes.
"You've already left an imprint on the Core."
Zen blinked. "Imprint?"
His father's voice grew graver. "The Benders—the ones who use Cores to forge weapons, artifacts, power sources—they can track anyone who's ever touched a Core. It's their way of making sure each Core is real, that it isn't some weak or fake substitute. Now that you've held it…" He gestured toward the dark, pulsing stone in Zen's hands. "They can trace it back to you. And if they find you, they will find this village."
Zen stood frozen.
His father's voice turned firm, the tone of a man giving up his son to save his people.
"If you stay, they will come. And when they do… they will burn everything to the ground."
A lump formed in Zen's throat. "There has to be another way—"
"There isn't." His father's face was carved from stone. "I will take care of the people here. But you—" his voice wavered just slightly, "must go. Now."
Zen stood at the door, the Core burning cold in his hands. The weight of it was nothing.
But the weight of what it meant?
Outside, the crowd had thickened, their murmurs swirling like a storm. Some whispered in fear, others in curiosity. But none dared to step closer.
His mother placed a bundle in his hands—wrapped garments, food, all tied into a cloth.
"This will last you at least a week," she said softly, her voice barely holding together.
Zen nodded. His fingers curled around the bundle, knuckles white.
It was time.
Time to leave. Time to lose everything.
But Zen wasn't even sure if he could feel anything anymore.
I should have just died at the hands of that Grim, he thought.
He turned toward the road, his legs moving before his mind could catch up.
He didn't look back.
Because if he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to leave. With a heavy heart and heavier steps, Zen started his journey with no destination.