Snowflakes drifted down, covering the streets, houses, and trees in a soft white
blanket. The mountains stood tall, their peaks hidden beneath the frost. Everything
was silent, wrapped in winter's calm.
It was dawn, but the sun was nowhere to be seen. One could only feel the dim light of the day.
Amidst this haunting yet oddly comforting silence, a loud voice echoed from the distance.
A man stood there, armed but neither a guard nor a robber. He looked strong and skillful at first glance—like a mercenary.
When greeted with no response, the man shouted again, his voice angrier than before.
"Oye! Stop right there, kid!"
Silence.
He stepped forward, now walking toward the other end of the street.
"If you want to live, STOP!"
The figure on the other side finally halted, perhaps out of fear. But he didn't turn back.
The Mercenary walked toward him across the street.
A few seconds later, both stood face-to-face only few feet away from each other.
It was a rare sight for the Mercenary.
For the first time in his career, he saw someone completely covering their face.
A black cloak wrapped around the young-looking man, with a hood drawn over his head and a mask concealing his face.
Covered entirely in black clothes, only his eyes were visible with a little view of his white skin.
Intrigued, and still irritated, the Mercenary spoke in a commanding voice.
"Oye, kid. Who are you, and where are you going?"
The boy simply stared, offering no reply.
This level of disrespect frustrated The Mercenary and he stepped forward, reaching to pull off the hood and mask—only to have his wrist caught mid-motion.
"What?!" He thought, eyes widening. "I can't break free from this kid's grip?!"
A rare occurrence. Even for him. But the boy remained indifferent with his eyes glazing at his soul.
With a strong yank, the Mercenary freed his hand, now glaring with anger.
"I'll kill you right here, kid!" he roared and lunged forward, throwing a punch.
Strangely enough, the attack missed.
The Mercenary staggered back, thinking of drawing his sword—
But before he could react, a leg was already in front of his face.
A single devastating kick sent him crashing into the ground, blood trickling from his nose.
He struggled to his feet, unsheathing his sword, as he was about to speak—
A knee crashed into his chest.
The world blurred. His breath was stolen. His body hurtled backward into
unconsciousness.
When his vision returned, he barely caught sight of a flashing blade.
In an instant, the knife slashed his throat.
His head tumbled to the ground, rolling, staining the white snow crimson.
The young man sighed, staring at the lifeless head.
"A waste of time."
He resumed walking, indifferent, as if it was a normal occurance for him.
"The mercenaries are increasing in numbers… but why?" thought The young man
"I've been targeted nine times this week, yet I've learned nothing."
Suddenly His eyes Widened.
"Could it be… them?..." He thought
"No,They're stronger than this, far Stronger."
After walking for a long time, he stopped at a small hill surrounded by mountains covered in snow, glancing back.
As soon as he collected his thoughts, he spotted movement in the distance.
A soldier.
No—several soldiers.
They approached the corpse, swiftly cleaning up the mess he had left behind. Within
moments, they had picked up the body and disappeared.
"What?!" he whispered, barely audible.
"The empire doesn't even know my identity, much less send mercenaries after me.
Even if it did, there would be no reason to hunt me."
As he was thinking about what had happened just now, A chilling realization crept into his mind.
"Unless…
No. It's foolish to make assumptions now. I need information."
He hadn't slept for days. His plan had been to rest at the town inn.
But that was no longer an option due to this new scene he had witnessed, he wasn't even safe with guards around, although they wouldn't directly attack him, it was still dangerous.
He Suddenly Remembered a cave, few hundred meters away. Not the safest choice—but for now, it would have to do.
As he walked towards it, The sun dipped behind the mountains, and snow began to fall again.
From the hilltop, the view was breathtaking.
On one side, houses glowed with warm lamplight.
On the other, nothing but darkness.
The young man lit a fire, scouting the surroundings for potential threats before settling
inside.
The cave floor was freezing, but there was no alternative, he hadn't slept for days and not resting could be problematic in battles.
He hugged his sword, staring at the snow-covered mountains in the distance—
Unaware of what awaited him next and tried to sleep.
Meanwhile…
The royal palace gleamed with golden light, illuminating its grand halls.
From a high window, the king gazed out, admiring the breathtaking sight with a satisfied smile.
A wise man in his fifties, he had no children. But he loved his wife dearly.
"Ah, how beautiful nature is," he said, his voice filled with warmth.
A low voice answered from the shadows.
"The beauty of nature hides the hideous reality of humans."
The king's admiration twisted into horror, chills went down his spine as he glanced back in the dark.
"You are correct, sir," he murmured, his tone filled with fear.
A figure emerged from the darkness. An old man, leaning on a wooden stick, a smirk
playing on his lips.
"I hear you've been troubled by our actions, Your Majesty."
asked The old man in a sweet voice.
"I was merely… concerned. Your mercenaries are killing people in search of "him".
This might turn the people against me."
The old man chuckled.
"Give them bread and circuses, and they shall never revolt. I thought I told you that,
Your Majesty."
He said while smiling as he pressed his stick against the king's throat.
The king hastily offered his apology.
"I will send Stronger warriors starting tomorrow. Do not dare to oppose it."
The king lowered his head.
"I understand, sir."