Kealix lay broken on the pale, ashen grass of the forest floor, his blood soaking into the lifeless earth beneath him. Everything around him was a blur—sight, sound, even time itself. His vision wavered, like oil rippling on water. His ears rang with a sharp, shrill tone that drowned out the world, leaving only the heavy thud of his heart and the jagged rasp of each labored breath.
He couldn't move. Could barely think. Every inch of his body screamed with pain. Something inside was broken—no, many things. Bones, will, hope. He was sure of it.
Damn, he thought weakly, I actually survived that fall? The thought wasn't relief—it was irony. Well, not for long. Not with wounds like these.
He lay there, a crimson smear in the middle of a quiet graveyard of trees.
Something warm and soft nudged against his side. Again. More forcefully this time. A shape he could barely make out through the haze of blood and blurred sight.
Frost…
The pup had peeled himself away from his usual form—as Kealix's attire, his armor, his familiar—and was now fully materialized, his small body frantically rubbing against his master's side, trying to rouse him.
But Kealix couldn't move.
"Stop… you can't…" he tried to speak, but his voice came out a strangled whisper, gurgled by the blood rising in his throat.
Then he saw it—movement, off to the side. A shadow dropping from the trees above, landing with impossible grace. Silent. Predatory.
The beasts, he thought grimly, his mind thick with sarcasm. Guess they came to finish the job. Fine. Let them. I'm already dead anyway.
A bark rang out. High-pitched. Desperate.
Frost. Even now, the tiny beast refused to back down. His stance was shaky, his size laughable against the pale monsters emerging from the woods—but he stood firm, growling, barking, baring his teeth in defiance.
"No…" Kealix tried again, his voice little more than a rasp. He coughed violently and blood spilled from his mouth. "Please… just… run…"
But Frost didn't run. He barked louder, stepped forward, tail low but teeth bared.
The monsters weren't moved by the pup's courage. One of them, larger than the rest, lunged.
"Frost!" Kealix cried out as he watched the blow land, sending Frost's tiny frame hurtling through the air. The pup slammed against a thick tree trunk with a sickening crunch and crumpled at its base, unmoving.
"No—!" The scream tore from Kealix's throat like shrapnel. Pain lanced through his chest, hot and searing, as more blood poured from his mouth. But he didn't care.
"Stay… away… from him…" he growled, dragging breath after breath into his broken lungs. One eye swollen shut, the other blazing with fury.
His body trembled, barely responding, but he forced it to move—just a little. He didn't care about survival. Not anymore. They had touched Frost. That alone was enough.
"That sin," he said through gritted teeth, "was more than enough reason for me to kill every last one of you."
His voice was low and guttural, a snarl more than speech. Blood filled his mouth again. The pain in his limbs became a dull roar. His vision darkened further. But still, he tried to rise.
His knees buckled. His arms collapsed. His body refused.
He couldn't keep going. The darkness surged over him, and he began to fall—not just physically, but into unconsciousness.
Still, his mind raged.
I won't die here. Not like this. I have to protect him…
But the world was slipping.
And as his last eye closed, the last image burned into his mind was the pale beasts creeping toward Frost's tiny, broken form.
Then—
Something changed.
A flash of light.
A flicker of movement not from the monsters—but from somewhere deeper, brighter.
A soft chime echoed through the ether, as if the world itself had spoken:
[Requirements for temporary evolution of Mystical Beast: Frost — Achieved.]
[Your companion refuses to abandon you.]
And then—blinding light.
Even with his eyes closed, he saw it. Felt it. A surge, raw and ancient, filled the air. The ground trembled beneath him. Something had awakened. Something furious. Something loyal.
And then—
Nothing.
No pain.
No fear.
No thought.
Only silence, and the weightless fall into whatever came next—death or salvation.
He didn't know.
He couldn't.
He could only wait and hope Frost, his last friend in this wretched world, would rise in his place.
Kealix stirred.
Pain greeted him first—raw, jagged, and everywhere. His body felt like it had been dragged through molten stone and left to freeze over. Every breath was a labor, every inch of muscle a battlefield. He blinked, or at least tried to. But the world remained dark.
Where… am I?
His arms wouldn't move. Neither would his legs. Panic didn't rise immediately—it crawled. Subtle. Chilling. His wrists were pinned, bound by something coarse and tight. He flexed his fingers. Nothing. No give.
He tried again, pushing against the restraints. Still nothing.
Then he heard it—voices. Muffled at first, his hearing still ringing from whatever trauma had left him half-dead. But through the fog, the words became clearer.
"Leo, he just started moving. We should unbind him and ask him some questions," a woman's voice said. Soft. Controlled. But there was something unmistakable beneath that softness—command. Strength. The kind that didn't ask for respect; it demanded it.
"We should wait for him to fully wake up first, Thalia. He just recovered, so it might take some time," another voice replied—this one male. Steady and sharp, like a blade freshly honed. Cold, but not cruel.
Leo? Thalia?
Kealix's throat clenched, raw and dry. He tried to clear it—but the moment he did, blood, thick and metallic, surged up and choked the sound. A violent fit of coughing overtook him. His chest heaved. Every hack sent lightning through his ribs. Then, something warm touched his chin.
A cloth.
Gentle. Dabbing away the blood as he struggled to breathe.
Then, light.
The blindfold was lifted, and his blurry vision slowly came into focus.
He saw her first—the one who had cleaned his mouth. She knelt in front of him, her face hidden behind a smooth, featureless mask. Her hair, however, was impossible to miss. Dark orange, almost ember-like, cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. It reminded him of royalty—wild and regal at once. Her outfit was combat-oriented, minimal yet covering. Fabric and form-fitting cloth layered smartly, designed for freedom of movement rather than protection.
She doesn't need armor, Kealix thought, strangely lucid for a moment. She moves too fast for it to matter.
Then a voice snapped him back.
"Have you finished looking at my sister?"
The male.
Kealix shifted his gaze—barely. Every movement ached.
There he was, sitting casually atop a high slab of stone like it was a throne carved by nature. A young man, only slightly older than Kealix, but there was something ancient in the way he watched. His long black hair fell in thick, wild strands, reminiscent of a lion's mane. His armor was dark as obsidian, trimmed with cloth for mobility. On both shoulders, the emblem of a black lion stared back at Kealix—unmoving, proud.
The man smiled. A slow, confident grin that didn't reach his eyes.
"Looks like you're awake enough now," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and scrutiny. "So… why don't you tell us who you are, and what you're doing here?"
Kealix didn't answer right away. He was still calculating, still trying to process.
They didn't kill me.
They restrained me… but treated me.
Why?
His gaze flicked from the man to the woman—Thalia and Leo, he presumed. He tasted iron again and slowly leaned back into the stone behind him, careful not to strain whatever wounds hadn't been stitched or splinted.
Then finally, hoarsely, he croaked, "Depends… where's 'here'?"
A beat of silence passed between them.
Leo remained quiet, his hand lifting to his chin, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his jaw as if searching through memories. His golden-brown skin caught the slanted rays of forest light that broke through the canopy, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His high cheekbones and sharp, symmetrical features made it hard to ignore—he was handsome, almost unfairly so.
Kealix watched him cautiously, his breathing still ragged, chest rising and falling with painful effort. Then finally, Leo's eyes lit up with recognition.
"Ah," he said, the grin returning to the corner of his lips, though dimmer than before. "Yeah, I remember now. You're in the Scarlet Forest. Dangerous place to wander around alone—especially if you haven't awakened yet, y'know?"
His words carried a casualness that clashed with the dire weight of what he said.
Awakened? Scarlet Forest? So this isn't just some forest… it's something else entirely.
Before Kealix could speak, Thalia cut in. Her voice, though soft as ever, held an edge this time—firm, instructive.
"Leo, don't tell him too much. Not yet. We still have to test him."
Test me? Kealix blinked, confusion and curiosity colliding in his chest.
"What test?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice rasping through the soreness of his throat.
Thalia glanced at him over her shoulder. There was something unreadable in her masked gaze. A mystery. Then, in a whisper-like tone that still managed to command the air around them, she replied, "You'll see."
With that, she turned and made her way toward a nearby stone outcropping, where two worn backpacks rested in the shade. Kealix could only wait, heart pounding slower now—but no less heavily.
For the first time since waking up in this godforsaken place, something stirred in him that had been buried under layers of agony and dread: anticipation. Relief, even. He didn't show it outwardly—his body was far too wrecked for that—but the tiny ember of interest flickered to life deep inside him.
As he waited for Thalia to retrieve whatever she was looking for, Kealix's eye caught something propped against the stone.
A sword.
Not just any sword—this one was massive. Almost the size of a full-grown adult, with a jagged black-steel blade that looked like it could cleave boulders in two. Its edge shimmered faintly, even in the shadows. It didn't belong leaning on a rock. It belonged in war.
Who the hell could even lift that? he wondered. Let alone wield it.
"You like what you see?" Leo's voice broke through his thoughts, laced with smug amusement.
Kealix didn't miss a beat, even as pain throbbed behind his eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not. You never know."
Leo let out a low chuckle and leapt down from his perch with the grace of someone who made defying gravity a habit. His boots landed next to the sword, dust kicking up as he landed. With one hand—just one—he reached for the hilt.
Kealix's eye widened, his breath caught in his throat.
The blade groaned as Leo pulled it from the earth. Not with effort, not with a grunt or struggle. Effortlessly. As if the massive thing weighed no more than a branch. He turned it in his grip, casually pointing it at Kealix with one arm extended.
"Be warned," Leo said, a grin spreading slowly across his face, full of confidence, almost playfulness. "This sword might be your death one day."
Kealix stared, lips curling into a small, dry smile. Despite everything, despite the ropes, the blood, the fear... he was impressed. And terrified. This man wasn't normal.
He opened his mouth to reply—but a sound from the other side of the rock cut through the tension.
Thalia.
She had found whatever it was she'd been searching for.
Her footsteps were almost silent as she returned, carrying something wrapped in dark cloth. She knelt beside him once more, the mask hiding her face, her presence calm but heavy like a blade resting just above his throat.
Then she said, simply and clearly:
"It's time for us to see who you really are."