Crk-crk!
The icy snow was packed in the winter. It was early morning, and people could be heard breathing heavily in the cold environment.
"How far until we get there, John?" he murmured.
"I'm not sure. This forsaken war will drive us into the ground," said John Bleak with a tone of annoyance. "We are going as far as to bring the Forgotten Tribe into the war."
"I don't get it. Is it even worth anything? We haven't been contacted by the tribe since the war began," said Ruyga with annoyance.
The mountains were cold. The group of eleven people was wandering through what could only be described as impossible terrain. At this height, even trees were less frequent, and the air was thin not to mention it was the middle of winter.
"You see that rock over there with the carvings, Ruyga?" muttered John, his breath visible in the freezing air.
"I see it, John. Wait, was that not the rock you told me about being close to their settlement?"
"Indeed. Finally, we are near. Gather the rest of the expedition. It's important we make them cooperate without getting ourselves killed," he said with a clear disdain for the coldness around him. "Nobody would willingly send their people to the war front, but that is how life is in the Kingdom of Historia."
After a while, the people behind caught up, and the eleven approached the large stone. They were geared with the flags of Historia and wore the clothes of military status.
This expedition had been formed due to the dire situation on the northern front of the Kingdom of Historia. In the last year, they had been pushed back, wounding the fragile pride of those in power. Even though it was only one out of seventeen areas the Kingdom of Historia controlled, if they lost this battle, it would show weakness no less to a newer sect, recently formed in the last century.
The expedition included the leader, John Bleak, and vice commander Ruyga, along with nine upcoming warriors and fighters. It was crucial that this expedition succeeded. The last confirmed population count of the Village in the Clouds was around 10,000 people an enormous amount, considering its remote location in the snowy mountains. Generally, it would take around nine days to get there from the closest village in Historia.
The Village in the Clouds was well known for its impressive warriors, and rumors had it that those born and raised there had a connection to the mountain the village resided on, called Eternal or so the story went.
Ruyga yelled from up front, "John, come take a look at this! You're the only person who's been here before, but the terrain is nothing like you described," he said with a slight hint of fear.
"This is... WHAT HAS HAPPENED? The mountain... it's gone? Rocks are scattered everywhere!"
Big boulders and avalanches of snow had piled up. The village was unrecognizable, and the mountain was nowhere to be seen.
"This is not the Mountain Eternal I remember... Three years ago, when I was here last, the streets were lively. But all there is now is a small path the whole town looks buried," he muttered, clearly shocked by the sight.
It took a few minutes for the realization to sink in. The eleven people just stood there, the sun beating down on them where the mountain's shadow had once been. The silence was finally broken.
John yelled, "I'm not sure what could have happened, but by the sheer amount of snowfall and ice, this must have happened a while ago. It would explain why the village stopped communicating."
The people around him looked on, waiting perhaps for confirmation? Did they turn back empty-handed, or what did they need to do?
"Everyone, scatter around! If there are survivors, we need to find them. We cannot afford to go back empty-handed. The higher-ups will take my head!"
"John!" yelled Ruyga. "I see something further down the path!"
At the end of the snow-covered trail stood a small hut or rather, the remains of one. It was rough, barely visible amidst the frozen wasteland, clearly built from the ruined parts of other structures.
"Ruyga, let's check it out. Stay behind me," John muttered, wary of the situation.
As they stepped through the torn curtain blocking the entrance, they found themselves inside a cramped space. There, seated on the ground beside a small rock, was a young boy. His long, pale white hair blended seamlessly with the snow outside. He didn't look older than twelve. Eyes shut, he sat in complete stillness, a teapot resting beside him, steam curling from its spout.
John studied the child before speaking. "This is the Kingdom of Historia authority. Commander John Bleak." His voice was firm.
But the boy remained unmoved, eyes still closed. Instead, he simply gestured for them to sit.
Skeptical, they complied, though neither knew why. There was something about his presence calm, yet unsettling. The boy lifted the teapot and carefully poured three cups of tea.
Ruyga muttered, "What are we doing?" confusion evident in his voice.
"The tribe has strange traditions. It's easier to get information if we respect their culture. Just comply," John said calmly.
The boy raised his cup. Without a word, they mirrored his gesture and took a sip.
Finally, the silence broke.
"What brings the Kingdom of Historia here?" His voice was quiet frail, as though unused for months.
John cleared his throat. "We are here under the orders of the kingdom regarding a dire situation," he said cautiously, studying the boy's reaction.
"I see," the child muttered. His eyes remained shut. "I'm afraid I am the only one left... and soon, I will be buried with the rest. That is the will of the goddess." His tone was cold.
John stiffened, glancing at Ruyga, who looked equally stunned.
"Are you saying the entire tribe is gone?" Ruyga demanded, frustration creeping into his voice.
The boy's lips barely moved. "I am the last one breathing in these lands," he whispered. "Even the tallest peaks fall. Eternal gave in... and because of our weakness, we have paid the price."
The weight of his words settled over them like a crushing snowdrift. But before they could respond, the boy rose and gestured for them to follow.
A few meters from the hut, scattered stones began to emerge from the snow some small, some large. Soon, their true nature became clear.
Gravestones.
An entire graveyard.
John glanced at the boy. His white hair swayed gently in the wind. Despite his usual lack of sentiment, John couldn't ignore what stood before him a lone survivor gazing upon the remains of his entire world.
"I want to ask a favor," the boy muttered.
John narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"
"Can I borrow your sword?" His voice was emotionless.
Ruyga shot John a sharp glance. They both knew this boy had no distinct signs of high Manipura. He wasn't a threat. What could he possibly need a sword for?
Even so, John unsheathed his smaller blade and handed it to the boy.
Before they could react, the boy pricked his finger with the blade, letting a small drop of blood bead at the tip. Then, with slow precision, he began tracing symbols onto a stone one that looked far newer than the others. Unlike the surrounding graves, which were dusted with snow, this one was bare.
The boy's hand moved steadily, drawing letters in a language neither John nor Ruyga recognized. When he finished, he let out a quiet breath, then rose to his feet.
"Thank you," he murmured. "I appreciate this. I'm sure... with me gone, the goddess will rest." His voice was distant, hollow.
John's eyes narrowed. "What do you"
Before he could finish, the boy gripped the blade tightly and lifted it. For a split second, it seemed like he was about to attack.
But then—
With one swift motion, he turned the sword on himself and drove the blade deep into his stomach.
Blood spilled instantly, dark and violent against the pale snow. The boy staggered, his grip on the hilt tightening before his body gave out. He collapsed to the ground, the red stain spreading beneath him.
It all happened too fast.
"Fuck! What is that maniac doing?!" Ruyga shouted, horror twisting his face.
John didn't hesitate. "RUYGA! Get Mina NOW! If we lose this kid, both our heads are gonna roll!"
Time seemed to stop.
Seven days later, the rhythmic creaking of a carriage moving over a bumpy dirt road filled the silence.
The boy, who had once driven a blade through his own stomach, stirred. His eyes remained closed as he slowly became aware of his surroundings his body ached, pain radiating from his wound.
He was in a carriage.
Three figures sat beside him. John and Ruyga faces familiar but unreadable and a third person, a stranger. The air smelled different, unfamiliar. It felt early morning. Before he could fully process where he was, a sharp voice cut through the quiet.
"Finally, you're awake. Do you have any idea how much of a pain it was to keep you alive?" The voice belonged to a girl stern, but tired.
The boy, still keeping his eyes closed, murmured, "Where am I? I don't recognize the air." His voice was low, distant.
"We're on our way to the city of Enuli," she answered, sounding almost proud. "You've been asleep for seven days. It's a miracle you're even awake."
"Ah... are you a witch?" he asked, his tone emotionless. "How did you resurrect me? The goddess should have claimed me."
The girl let out a small laugh. "A witch? No, I'm a mage. And a damn strong one, too. If I hadn't been there, you'd be long dead."
The small exchange was abruptly interrupted by John.
"Kid, why did you try to forfeit your life?" His voice was cold, direct.
Silence fell.
Mina glanced at John, then at Ruyga, who had just woken from the commotion. They both stared at the boy, waiting for an answer.
John was a soldier of Historia a leader, respected and admired for his skill and dedication to swordsmanship. But beyond that, he held a firm, unwavering philosophy about life: you fight for it.
The boy's answer came softly.
"Because the goddess asked me to."
John's expression hardened. "Who is this goddess?"
"The protector. Our savior. The mountain itself Eternal," the boy whispered.
John exhaled sharply. "If I recall, that mountain is no longer there. So why are you still bound by it?"
The boy froze. His fingers curled slightly, but his eyes remained closed.
Then, in a cold, unwavering tone, he answered,
"Because I was never meant to breathe in the first place."
The air inside the carriage turned heavy. The weight of his words pressed down on them all.
But he continued.
"I am what you call... a sacrifice."
"A sacrifice?" Ruyga asked, confusion evident in his voice.
The boy's expression barely shifted, but something in his posture tightened. Maybe sensing his discomfort, John cut in sharply.
"Enough. I've heard what I need to."
Silence fell over the carriage.
For hours, no one spoke. The rhythmic creaking of the wheels and the distant rustling of the wind were the only sounds. That is, until Mina finally broke the stillness.
"About your stomach injury…" Her voice carried a rare softness. "I did as much as I could, but even with my power, a wound like that will never fully heal."
No response. The boy hadn't opened his eyes once since waking.
Mina sighed, then continued, her gaze lingering on him. "It's going to leave a nasty scar. I poured about a month's worth of Manipura into that wound. One day, you'll appreciate what I did." Her tone was firm, yet beneath it, there was something else concern.
Still, the boy remained silent. His face barely moved, but the way his body tensed, the slight tremble in his fingers it was clear. He was in pain.
Mina exhaled and shifted in her seat. "In about three days, we'll reach the city of Enuli. There, we'll speak with the leader and figure out the situation."
Her voice was steady, but a sliver of unease slipped through.
She was afraid.
And somehow, despite everything, the boy could feel it.