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The Demon King's roar shook the battlefield, his crimson eyes burning with rage and disbelief.
But The Hero was already moving—faster than thought, faster than light itself. A blur of brilliance, he closed the distance in an instant. Before Asgiar could react, The Hero's blade plunged deep into his chest.
A choked gasp escaped the Demon King as his strength failed him. Darkness crept into his vision, and with one final, shuddering breath, Asgiar, The Demon Lord, fell. But only until he regenerated.
Asgiar had cursed the four legendary Dragons—Aqua, Flame, Earth, and Light—forcing them to obey him against their will. With their power under his control, he became unstoppable. Now, that overwhelming force pressed The Hero against the shattered ground, crushing him beneath its weight.
And I just stood there—15-year-old me—watching my idol, the legendary fighter, Zerro, The Hero I had always admired, struggling for breath.
I wanted to help. I wanted to fight. But I knew I was too weak.
"ZERRO! STAY ALIVE! PLEASE! WE NEED YOU!"
My voice broke as I cried out, helpless against the cruel fate unfolding before me. But it wasn't Asgiar's attack that killed him.
Zerro had sealed Asgiar away, locking him in a dungeon of magic that would hold him for years—perhaps centuries. In doing so, he saved the world from Asgiar. But the price of such a feat… was his own life.
With his last breaths, he turned to me, his eyes filled with wisdom and sorrow I couldn't yet comprehend.
"Sin ju… this seal will only last for a time. One day, Asgiar will return. That's why the prophecy exists. When the time comes, the Dragons will not hide—they will fight alongside the one destined to stop him."
I clutched his hand, my tears falling onto his battered skin.
"B-but… why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice trembling.
He smiled weakly. "Because… you have a role to play. A task that must be completed. If you fail… the Chosen One will never arrive."
I didn't understand. What did I have to do with any of this? Why would he tell someone as weak as me something so important at his very last moment?
As if he had read my thoughts, Zerro let out a shallow breath. "I know you're wondering why you. But you must trust in this. Your task… is simple. Stay alive. No matter what. Isolate yourself if you must. Hide. But above all else…" He coughed, his grip on my hand tightening for one final moment.
"Just… live..."
And then—just like that—he was gone.
I rose to my feet, my legs weak beneath me. I looked around at what remained of Matines City—ruined buildings, lifeless bodies, smoke so thick it choked the sky. Everything was gone.
I fell back to the ground and just sat there. I sat for hours, maybe days—or even months. Time felt meaningless. When the smoke that had once choked my lungs had long since faded, I slowly regained consciousness, though I couldn't even remember when or how I lost it in the first place.
I tried to stand up, walking like a drunk, my head pounding as if someone was relentlessly striking it. I was starving and dehydrated.
Instinctively, I made my way to the Matines Mountains, far from the remains of what was once my home. Reaching the forest beneath the twin peaks felt like an achievement. But before I could catch my breath, I was attacked by a horde of weak demons.
With the only gift I possessed—an ability that made swords feel weightless in my hands—I fought off the lesser demons, using their flesh as food just to survive. I found small, dirty water sources here and there. It wasn't ideal, but at least I wouldn't die of thirst.
Days passed. I slept in bushes, my body sore, my mind numb. The memories of that horrifying moment—Zerro's death and the cursed mission he left me—haunted me, making me vomit more than once. But I forced myself to stay strong. At least… until death found me.
Then, as I ventured further between the wide and tall trees of this magical forest but cursed world, by sheer luck, I stumbled upon an abandoned house hidden in the woods. It was a wooden hut not bigger than an average one story house for two. Behind the hut was an overgrown garden, but nothing of interest.
Cautiously, I stepped inside and explored the empty, dust-coated rooms. There wasn't much—until I discovered an old, locked chest. My heart pounded as I pried it open, hoping for some ancient, legendary weapon.
Instead, I found an old potion. Its glow was faint, weaker than the weakest potion I'd ever seen.
"Better than nothing, I guess," I muttered under my breath.
Although I'm not quite sure what it'll do to me. I thought
I had no idea what it was.
But I drank it anyway.
I settled down in the house and trained in the backyard to free my mind for a while. When I sat down to meditate, I closed my eyes... but when I opened them again, I was overwhelmed by hunger and thirst. My head throbbed as if a bomb had struck me.
I staggered to the nearby river where I always drank from, hoping to quench my thirst. But as I leaned down to drink, I saw something that made my blood run cold.
An old man stared back at me from the water's reflection. His long white beard and wrinkled face made him look well over 60, perhaps even older.
At first, I thought it was someone else. But when he copied my every move, I realized the horrifying truth.
It was me.
It felt as if I had been struck by lightning, sent by the Dragon of Lightning himself. I had aged... horribly. I looked like I could die at any moment.
In shock, I began scratching one line into a tree for each day I woke up in this cursed world.
Who would have known that centuries later, I would finally understand the truth?
The strange potion I had foolishly consumed... it was an age-lengthening potion. As its name suggested, it drastically slowed my aging—perhaps even making me immortal.
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