A pale young man with silver hair and deep crimson eyes swung his axe down with all his might. Thud! . The blade didn't do that much to the thick tree trunk, but it wasn't enough. Again. He gritted his teeth, sweat rolling down his forehead. Again. But no matter how hard he tried, the wood refused to give in.
Gin, a 15-year-old boy, had spent the last hour hacking at the tree. His arms ached, his breath was uneven, and his fingers trembled. But he couldn't stop—not when his family relied on him.
A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"Any luck yet?"
Gin stiffened. He already knew who it was. He pretended not to hear, but the words still slipped out. "…No, sir. I guess I'm just not meant to be strong like the others."
The old manager sighed, his tone carrying both concern and pity. "A mark without a Pure Beast is just a tattoo, Gin." He glanced at the half-cut tree. "Head home, it's getting late. Let me handle the rest for you."
Gin wiped his sweat away and nodded, picking up his things.
"I should take a detour today," he mumbled to himself. "There's still some time before dark."
For centuries, humans had been born with mysterious marks—symbols of power. But these marks were useless on their own. To awaken their strength, one had to form a Contract with a Pure Beast. That was the ancient ritual. That was the rule.
And Gin? huh lucky enough to get a mark, not enough to get a beast.
The town square bustling with life. Vendors shouting over one another, merchants bargaining, and a warm glow from lanterns flickering against the stone walls.
Gin ignored them all—his eyes locked onto a small, dimly lit shop.
Inside the glass case, it resides.
The dagger, whose blade precise enough to slice through rock, painted with the blood of thousands of Beasts.
He gulped. Something about it called to him.
"There's no way a peasant like me can afford this," he muttered. But still, he peeked into his bag.
Five silver coins!.
His hands trembled. His siblings must have sacrificed their little luxuries to save this for him.
Emotion swelled in his chest.
"…Thank you." His voice barely came out as a whisper.
With a deep breath, Gin handed over the coins—and walked out of the shop with the dagger in his hands.
For the first time in his life, he felt a spark of hope.
The sky had darkened. Night had fallen.
Gin gripped his new dagger, a nervous grin forming on his face. "Some low-level Mutants? Ha! I even have this magical blade now."
The sun had vanished behind the horizon, and the forest grew darker with every step.
Gin's resolve was breaking. He hadn't expected the forest to be this deep. The air smelled of damp earth and rotting leaves, thick and suffocating. A sinister rustling came from behind the dry bushes, sending a shiver down his spine. His skin prickled, a cold sweat forming on his back.
His entire body trembled as if frozen in place. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, loud enough that he feared whatever was lurking could hear it too. His throat went dry, and the merciless wind only made it worse, weaving through the trees like a whispering phantom, creeping under his clothes and biting into his skin.
For a moment, the world stood still.
Then, the rustling grew louder. But in the end it was just a mutant cub
Trying to relax his breathing, "It's just a lowly cub but his mother would be coming soon for him, I don't have much time left."
Gin's breath came out in ragged gasps as he sprinted through the forest. He knew he didn't have much time. The mutant's mother could return for him any moment.
Tsk!
A deafening crash shattered the eerie silence of the jungle. Something massive had fallen from the sky. The impact sent birds screeching into the air, and the ground beneath Gin trembled.
His grip tightened around his dagger. He had to check it out.
With each step, the damp earth squelched beneath his feet. His heart pounded—not just from running, but from the overwhelming sense of dread creeping up his spine.
Something was here. Watching him.
His instincts screamed at him to run the other way, but he forced himself to move forward. He had to survive.
"I can't do this anymore…" His voice was barely above a whisper. His legs burned, his lungs ached. "I wasn't born strong like the others… If only I were—maybe I could have brought happiness to my family."
He stumbled out of the dense thicket—only to freeze at the sight before him.
There, slumped against the shattered earth, lay the guardian of his village—the Azure Dragon.
Gin's breath hitched. Blood pooled beneath the beast's broken body. Its once-magnificent red scales were cracked, painted in shades of blood .
Its golden eyes—dim, yet piercing—slowly turned toward him.
"What… are you doing here, boy?" The dragon's voice was rough, like gravel scraping against stone. "Ah… I see. You are just like me—forsaken by this world."
A bitter chuckle rumbled through its chest, followed by a harsh cough. Blood dripped from its fangs. "It seems no beast has chosen you yet… If you have no objections, would you take me as your companion?"
Gin's world tilted. His throat tightened, his breath caught.
He had waited two years to hear those words.
Yet, his hands trembled. Cold sweat trickled down his back. No… This isn't possible.
"But… forming a contract with a mutant is impossible." His voice cracked. "Everyone who has tried—has died."
The dragon's weak chuckle turned into a painful growl. "Look at me, boy. I have nothing left." Its eyes bore into his, sharp even in their fading light. "Whether you accept or not… my death is certain. But if my core falls into the hands of those hunters, who knows what horrors they will unleash?"
Gin hesitated, gripping his dagger so hard his knuckles turned white.
The dragon's next words sent a chill down his spine.
"If one of us must die for this contract… let it be me."
Silence.
Gin's mind screamed at him to refuse. To run. To survive.
But the dragon's words gnawed at something deep inside him.
All his life, he had been powerless. No matter how hard he tried, he was always a step behind. Always the one struggling. People mocked him, pitied him, cast him aside.
But then… there were those who believed in him. His family. His siblings, who saved every silver coin for him. The shopkeeper who gave him odd jobs. The few people who still saw worth in him.
His fists clenched.
He couldn't let them down.
Gin swallowed hard, then met the dragon's gaze.
"Everyone looked down on me. They called me weak. But… there were those who stood by me when I had nothing." His voice was hoarse, but his resolve hardened.
"If I let this chance slip away, I would be spitting on their trust.
" hhh, If making this contract means dying—then so be it." his voice barely came out as a whisper as his chest feels the weight of the pain he was carrying over the past 2 years.