In a world where strength dictates survival and power is the only path to existence, chaos reigns, and the sword is law.

Our story begins in the land of Wynx, home to the feared People of the Sword. In this tribe, every child is born with a mark on their forehead, a symbol that defines their talent and potential in swordsmanship. The luckiest are born with a blazing red mark, representing unparalleled strength, while the unfortunate bear a dull, steel-colored mark—weak and worthless in the eyes of their people.

But what of those who are born without a mark at all?

Among these rigid laws, a child was born. A child forsaken by fate.

His name was Jo.

The son of the tribe's vice leader—a man feared for his intelligence and brutality—Jo should have been destined for greatness. Yet, when he was born, he carried no mark upon his forehead. In a land where identity and power were determined by this symbol, Jo's existence was an abomination.

His father, filled with shame and disgust, declared,

"This child is not worthy of life. He will be buried before he takes his first breath."

But before he could carry out his decree, the tribe's leader intervened. After a long silence, he gave his verdict:

"He will not be killed… but he will never be one of us. Send him to the Houses of the Forgotten, where he will serve those who bear the mark."

And so, the fate of the forsaken child was sealed. Cast away from his people, abandoned in the darkness… and his true journey began.

---

The Houses of the Forgotten

Darkness was his only companion. Hunger, his greatest enemy.

In a crumbling, cold hut, Jo sat curled in a corner, his thin arms wrapped around his knees. A stale piece of bread lay on the dirt beside him. It wasn't his. He didn't know who it belonged to. But one thing was certain—if he didn't eat it, he would starve.

He hesitated… then reached for it.

SMACK!

A powerful blow struck his face.

"How dare you, you filthy rat?!" a towering boy sneered, his eyes burning with rage.

Jo didn't respond. He didn't need to.

He hadn't stolen anything—he had simply wanted to survive.

But in this place, survival wasn't a right for everyone.

A fist slammed into his stomach, followed by another into his ribs. Pain spread through his body, and all he could do was endure. He collapsed, gasping for breath as the boy stood over him, laughing.

"Remember this… trash doesn't eat. Trash doesn't live."

The boy walked away, leaving Jo lying in the dirt, bruised and breathless. His vision blurred with unshed tears… but he refused to cry.

Not yet.

Deep inside, a whisper echoed in his mind:

"When I turn ten… I will leave this place. I will escape this cursed land and find a world beyond this misery."

---

The Path to the Unknown

And so… we find ourselves at the beginning of a journey with no clear destination.

Jo: "You foolish parrot, can't you be quiet for once?"

Parrot (mocking): *"It's bad enough that I'm stuck with you, forsaken one… and