In the Garden
As the sunset bathed the garden in gold, Sunflower placed her empty teacup down and stood. Before leaving, she turned to Dawn.
"Be careful of Reality. I don't know what she's hiding… but whatever it is, it's dangerous."
Dawn chuckled.
"It hasn't even been a day, and you're already suspicious. But… you're right to be." He coughed and lowered his voice. "I did a background check. Her identity is well-constructed—realistic even—but there are holes. Gaps that shouldn't exist."
Sunflower's eyes narrowed. "So she's hiding her real identity?"
"Not just from us. From everyone. She's been doing it for years. Why? I can't say for certain. Maybe it's a dark past… maybe something worse." Dawn finished his tea and stood up.
They nodded to each other, their conversation ending as they walked off in opposite directions.
Then—
"CHIEF!"
A voice rang out. Sirens began blaring.
Panic erupted in Tresia.
"What's happening?"
"Why are the sirens sounding?"
"Is it a malfunction? Or… are we really under attack?!"
Fear gripped the hearts of citizens—an old, forgotten terror resurfacing.
In the Garden, Moments Later
A foot soldier came sprinting toward Dawn and Sunflower, breath ragged.
"Chief!" he cried. "He's here—the Cursed One!"
Dawn and Sunflower locked eyes. No words were needed. Both nodded and dashed off in opposite directions.
Tresia Watchtower
Sunflower arrived at the tower in seconds. Several of her soldiers were already looking out toward the forest, tense and pale.
"Report! Now!" she demanded, spotting movement in the trees below.
One soldier stepped forward, clearly rattled. "Yes, ma'am! The cursed man has found us. Arnold—he was covering your shift—charged into the forest the moment he saw movement. He didn't wait. Julie and Andy followed him."
"What?! Without orders?!" Sunflower's voice echoed with fury.
"We tried to stop him, ma'am. But… he's stronger than us. We couldn't hold him back. He said the three of them together could take the cursed one. Isn't… isn't he supposed to be weak?"
"Julie and Andy too?!" Her anger turned into alarm. "You fools! I told you—never underestimate a witch's curse!"
Without hesitation, Sunflower jumped from the tower. A 300-meter drop, and yet she landed as though she'd simply stepped off a stool. No scratch. No delay.
She sprinted into the forest—toward her soldiers.
Deep in the Forest – Crownshade Patrol
"Commander, more blood here."
The Crownshade unit, ten strong, followed the crimson trail—confirmed to be human. They were seasoned scouts from Pearl Harbor, hired for stealth-heavy missions.
Commander Rock, clad in chainmail and a white cape, frowned. "Keep tracking it."
So much blood. If they hadn't confirmed it was human, he wouldn't have believed it.
He remembered the chief's warning: "Value your men's lives more than any mission." But still, he moved forward.
Ten minutes later, Rock raised a fist. His men halted.
Torches out. Silence.
Crouching low, the squad melted into the underbrush. They'd found him.
Lance.
He stood motionless, gazing up at Tresia in the distance. His smile was faint—but terrifying. Something primal.
Ten seconds passed.
Then his eyes closed. The smile faded.
Rock held his breath.
"I know you're there. All Eleven of you." Lance's voice was calm. Too calm.
The words shattered whatever courage Rock's men had left. They looked to their commander.
He gave the silent order—surround and wait. They obeyed, despite the dread creeping in.
A heavy, perfect silence. Lance took one step forward.
Ready to unleash hell.
Then—another movement, However this time not from Lance but From the sky.
A figure descended, silhouetted by the moonlight—young, dark-skinned, blue-haired, a sword gleaming in his hand.
He landed between Lance and the bush. His stance was firm. His hands steady. No fear in his eyes.
"Leave," Arnold said. One word. Unflinching.
Lance's smirk returned. "A bit young for a leader—no… wait. You're not with them." He pointed at the bush, grinning. "You're from Tresia."
Lance's excitement surged.
Inside his mind, the voices began to chant again:
BURN THE VILLAGE.
BURN THE VILLAGE.
But this time, Lance didn't flinch. He'd grown used to the madness.
"Did he say Tresia?!" Commander Rock whispered, stunned.
His mind raced. He's near the village… We're close to the danger… This mission might be ending soon…
Or just beginning
Knock knock.
Dawn rapped sharply on Reality's door.
"Reality! It's me, Dawn. Lance has finally made his move—we might need your help."
The door clicked open within seconds. Reality stepped out, her golden eyes gleaming like sunlight through honey, her crimson hair cascading over her shoulders. She carried a light yellow bag, clearly filled to the brim.
"What's in the bag?" Dawn asked.
"Long story short: potions. Ones that might help your men survive the long night ahead," Reality replied. She reached in and tossed him a small glass vial. The liquid inside burned red, the color of fire.
"Drink up. It boosts stamina, sharpens your senses. You'll be more alert, which means better chances of survival." Without waiting for his response, she turned and began walking briskly toward the watchtower.
"Let's hurry. I've got thirty more of these—we'll need to get them to your best fighters."
Dawn, surprised by her readiness and assertiveness, followed.
When they reached the tower, the soldiers updated Dawn.
"Sir, Arnold's squad has already gone after Lance. Sunflower followed."
Fear gripped Dawn.
He stepped forward, preparing to leap after them—
"Wait." Reality's voice cut through his panic.
He paused, turning to look at the enigmatic mage.
"There's only one enemy. Why send just a few? We strike together and end this quickly. Retrieve his blood, protect the village."
Dawn hesitated. "We still need some to stay behind, just in case we fall. They can help evacuate the civilians."
"Then let those thirty with potions accompany us."
He nodded. That was reasonable.
Reality smirked. "But first, you should drink yours."
Dawn eyed the potion in his hand warily.
A nearby soldier, already having downed his dose, grinned. "Sir, I feel incredible! My shift just ended, and I was dead tired—but now I feel like I could fight for days."
That convinced the others. In less than a minute, all thirty soldiers had consumed their potions.
Dawn took a breath, then raised the vial to his lips and drank. It was warm and thick, like molten spice.
Reality nodded approvingly. "Let's prepare to descend."
A platform was rigged as an elevator to lower the men. Some soldiers tried to convince Dawn to stay behind.
"You think I'm some old relic?" he barked. Then, with a defiant roar, he sprinted toward the ledge.
"I'll show you I've still got it!"
And with that, he jumped—plummeting the full 300 meters to the forest floor.
Gasps erupted. Panic spread.
"Don't worry," Reality said calmly. "Your Chief is stronger than he looks."
She walked to the ledge.
"Once you're geared up, descend immediately. The Chief and I will be waiting."
Then she, too, jumped.
On the Forest Floor
Reality landed effortlessly, graceful as a feather. Dawn sat on a rock ahead, catching his breath.
"I can't wait for them," he muttered. "Since this was your idea, you go with them. I need to reach Arnold and Sunflower."
As he stood to dash off, his legs buckled. His body turned heavy, his mind clouded. Dizzy, confused—he barely managed to turn.
In the shadows stood Reality, a glowing crimson fireball hovering over her palm. The smirk on her face sent chills down his spine.
Dropping to one knee, Dawn gasped, "Why?"
Reality stepped forward, her expression almost pitying.
"Why? Because I spent years studying magic I had no passion for. Years perfecting potions—not for healing, but for control. Every potion I give can be altered at my will, whether it's been consumed or not. And all of it... for one goal."
She sat where Dawn had moments before.
"To find Tresia. Hidden away, unreachable. I searched every book, every scroll, to no avail. My only chance? To become famous enough for some desperate fool to seek me out. And lo and behold, a letter from the Chief of Tresia himself."
"Who are you?" Dawn growled.
"I prepared every poison, plotted every demise, but that cursed one moved early. It didn't matter. This... this will do."
She leaned closer.
Desperate, Dawn launched a punch at her face.
It stopped an inch from her cheek—suspended midair.
He gasped for breath. She hadn't flinched.
"You think I waited years for a surprise punch to end me?"
"Why!?" he cried again.
Reality whispered in his ear. One word.
"Anglaore Vermilion."
The name struck like thunder.
The Witch.
The very name from the sealed report on the Chief's deathbed. The woman who had once cursed a nation.
"You're her kin..."
Dawn's eyes widened with sorrow. He wanted to apologize—not out of fear, but remorse. What his people had done... it had been monstrous.
But he had no time.
Flames erupted around him.
He screamed.
No help came.
Within minutes, Dawn was nothing but ash.
Above, the platform had just begun to lower. Thirty men, empowered, hopeful.
Reality snapped her fingers.
Boom.
Every man exploded from within.
The watchtower ignited. Screams followed. Some tried to douse the flames. Others fell into catatonic shock.
She snapped her fingers again.
A crimson fireball appeared, then flew into the forest canopy, setting thirty great trees ablaze.
Tresia was trapped.
Reality adjusted her hair, a wicked smile on her face.
"Burn the village."
Then, she vanished into the darkness.