The East Continent. A vast land carved by the might of four great nations. To the west, the radiant Eloria and the unyielding Valoria stood as pillars of ancient power. Further east lay Solmere, a kingdom whispered to be built on arcane secrets, and Aurelia, a land of stoic warriors and untamed plains.
In Eloria, a king renowned for his elegance and strength ruled. His life, though blessed with a healthy marriage and three beloved children, held a hidden fissure. Even a man of his stature found it hard to resist the alluring charm of a gorgeous woman. In a moment of selfish indulgence, the king took one of his palace maids to his bed, leading to her pregnancy. Her name was Mitsuzo Sake.
When Mitsuzo discovered her condition, a mix of terror and fragile hope drove her to the king's private chambers. "Your Majesty," she whispered, her voice trembling, "I am with child."
The king's face, usually a mask of regal composure, softened slightly, feigning a benevolent concern. He reclined on his throne, a practiced smile playing on his lips. "Ah, a child, Mitsuzo? Such joyous news." He paused, his gaze sweeping over her, an almost paternal air about him. "A loyal servant like you, bearing new life... tell me, do you require an absence from your duties? Or perhaps funds for the child's upbringing? Tell me, who is the lucky man who has made you a mother?"
Mitsuzo, her heart fluttering with a desperate, foolish hope, looked up, tears welling in her eyes. "It was you, Your Majesty. The child... is yours."
The king's face, which moments before had exuded warmth, twisted into a mask of cold fury. His hand, resting on the armrest of his throne, clenched into a white-knuckled fist. His gaze hardened, turning to ice as he glared at her. "Child?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You lie, whore! This is nothing but a base conspiracy to frame your King!" He rose, his voice booming with false indignation. "You accuse me? A loyal servant, indeed! You are nothing but a common strumpet trying to claim royal blood for your bastard!"
Mitsuzo, a commoner knowing absolutely nothing about handling such a devastating situation, was immediately dragged from the royal palace without a second thought, branded a conspirator and a liar.
Mitsuzo had served the royal family since she was a little girl, always seeing the King of Eloria as a gentle, kind, and elegant man. She never once imagined that a king, celebrated as such a great ruler, would so cruelly abandon and defame her after she had served his family with utmost sincerity. With a child growing within her, she was left to the unforgiving streets, alone and desperate.
"Beauty. A coveted crown, often a heavy chain. Does its radiance truly bless the one who wears it, or is it merely a fleeting whisper of grace, illuminating them for the hungry eyes of those strong enough to seize, claim, or perhaps, to shatter?"
The harsh reality of the world unfolded before her. No one spared her, even when they saw her pregnant, starving, with nowhere to live and an ailing body. The whispers followed her like shadows: "She must have brought it upon herself. Such a beautiful maid… too tempting." All those people were simply jealous of her beauty. She began to despise her own loveliness, seeing it as the root of her suffering. In a desperate attempt to erase the cause of her pain, she tried to mar her own face, cutting her skin, punching herself until the day she gave birth.
Then, she held her. A child of breathtaking beauty, an innocent, perfect being. Mitsuzo had never seen anything more eye-soothing in her life. She named her, simply, Amal.
Life became a relentless struggle. Mitsuzo, her face now scarred, her body frail, scavenged for scraps, selling them for meager coins to buy food for Amal. But it was never enough. She was constantly beaten, pushed aside, and scorned while searching for sustenance. Her body, battered and worn, simply couldn't endure the harshness of this new world much longer.
One day, a well-known merchant, Lord Kaelan, who had visited the royal palace many times, recognized Mitsuzo among the desperate figures on the street. Kaelan was known for his sharp mind and a quiet, unyielding sense of justice, a rare trait among the kingdom's elite. He approached her cautiously, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with a somber concern. "Mitsuzo? Is that truly you? The royal maid… what happened?" Mitsuzo remained silent, her eyes vacant, unwilling to speak of her pain. But her silence spoke volumes to Kaelan. Infuriated by the King's hypocrisy and outright slander against a loyal servant, Kaelan began to spread rumors across the kingdom: the King had used his beautiful maid for his pleasure, then heartlessly cast her aside like garbage.
The scandalous whispers reached the palace, shocking everyone. Mitsuzo had been known for her loyalty, having served the royal family since childhood. The King, his reputation now genuinely threatened by Kaelan's outspokenness, immediately dispatched his royal forces with a chilling command: eliminate both Mitsuzo and her daughter, silencing the rumors permanently.
The next day, while searching for food, Mitsuzo saw the glint of royal armor in the distance. Her heart seized with terror. She knew they weren't there with good intentions. To save Amal, Mitsuzo made a gut-wrenching decision. She found a slave merchant, sold her precious daughter, and with the few coins she received, bought a small dagger. She then surrendered herself to the approaching army, a desperate, final hope burning in her eyes: to get close enough to the king, to strike him down.
But she never entered the palace. She was executed on the spot, her life extinguished before her vengeance could even begin. Her dead body was thrown deep into the jungle, a cold, forgotten husk meant for wild animals, ensuring no trace of her would remain.
Later that night, Amal, confined within a dark carriage, was being transported to another country by the slave merchants. But the universe, in its twisted cruelty, offered her a chance encounter. She escaped the rattling carriage, fleeing into the deep, echoing forest. Alone, terrified, all she wanted was to be with her mother. And the cruel world, in its own horrifying way, let her.
Amal, only five years old, found her mother's cold, still body deep within the shadows. She had never experienced the finality of loss before. She thought Mitsuzo was simply tired, sleeping in the jungle. So, Amal curled up, hugged her cold body, and fell asleep beside her.
In the morning, the harsh sunlight revealed a horrifying sight: many bugs had gathered around Mitsuzo's body. "Mama… wake up," Amal called, her voice still sleepy, nudging the cold form. "There's a lot of blood and bugs." When Mitsuzo didn't stir, Amal's voice grew more frantic, tugging at her mother's arm. "Mama? Please wake up!" It was then that a low growl cut through the morning air.
A pack of wild wolves, drawn by the scent of death, emerged from the shadows, their eyes gleaming. Terrified, Amal screamed, instinctively shielding her mother's unresponsive body. The wolves snarled, circling closer. Just as they lunged, a boy, silently hunting for food in the deep forest, saw the small girl with the dead body of an adult. With swift, practiced movements, he leaped forward, a makeshift spear in his hand, engaging the wolves. He killed them, one by one, saving Amal from their jaws.
He knelt beside the shaking child, his face grim. "Your mother… she's gone," he said gently, his voice carrying a weight beyond his years. The words, simple and direct, finally shattered Amal's innocent delusion. She stared at her mother's lifeless form for a very long time, the silence of the forest broken only by her escalating sobs. She cried non-stop, a primal wail of grief that tore through the quiet air. The pain of losing the closest person in her life consumed her, and Amal lost all sense, her mind unable to fathom the agony.
The boy then brought her back to his makeshift dwelling and, with solemn respect, buried Mitsuzo's body.
Amal woke up in a strange bed, her eyes snapping open in fear as she saw the boy. She tried to run, to escape this unknown threat, but her body wouldn't move. As she swayed, about to fall, the boy gently caught her, laying her back down. He offered her food, but she remained rigid with terror. He tried to feed her with his hands, but Amal, overwhelmed, bit him hard. The boy winced but understood. She was terrified, and the body he had buried must have been her mother. He left Amal to rest in the bed and went to town to sell the wolf corpses.
When he returned, the food was gone, but Amal was nowhere to be found. A pang of worry, unusual for his solitary life, struck him. He went to search for her, and soon heard the sounds of monsters wreaking havoc in the forest. He rushed towards the noise, finding Amal cornered by grotesque creatures, her small form trembling. He rescued her once again, fighting off the beasts with surprising skill.
"Why would you leave the house with a body so weak?" he asked, his voice a mix of exasperation and concern. Amal remained silent.
The boy then introduced himself. "My name is Zyxin."
"Amal," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Zyxin offered her to stay in his place until she recovered. Amal remembered her mother's lesson:
"Never anchor your trust to another, not even to the very first face you knew, nor the hand that guided your life. For trust is a fragile whisper, and in the chilling grip of fear, every mask will shatter. It is in that cold moment of terror that the deepest, most brutal truth will finally bleed through."
Amal, still wary, asked Zyxin about his parents. Zyxin's gaze drifted to the gnarled branches of the giant tree that served as his home. "I've been living under this big tree in this deep forest since I ran away from a rough orphanage. Kids there… they get sold. Not adopted as children, but as slaves who are taught to see their buyers as owners from their childhood."
When Zyxin, in turn, asked about Amal's parents, she said nothing.
As time passed, Amal grew stronger. She decided to live with Zyxin, and together they adapted. They learned to use fear and strength as their tools for survival, forging a bond that made them stronger than they ever were alone. They gathered wild fruits and herbs to sell in town, earning a meager 30 bronze coins – a fortune to them. Zyxin, who had been surviving alone for a while, taught Amal the ropes of the market, what to gather, and what could be sold.
One day, Amal saw a beautifully crafted knife in a market stall, its blade gleaming enticingly. She longed for it but had no money. She turned to Zyxin, whispering, "Can I borrow some money for that?" A richly dressed woman nearby overheard them. The moment she heard "knives" from two children, a look of pure fear flashed across her face, and she quickly scurried away, leaving Zyxin and Amal puzzled.
Undeterred, they found a blacksmith. "We need knives," Zyxin declared, his voice taking on a surprisingly confident, almost theatrical tone for a boy his age. "For the grand huntress of the Whispering Woods, of course! My mentor. She's a fearsome warrior, but, you know, quite dainty. Small hands, perfect for quick, precise strikes. She said you're the only smith capable of such delicate, yet deadly, craftsmanship." The gruff smith, accustomed to unusual requests, grunted, a flicker of pride in his eyes at the compliment. The tools he forged for them were perfect: two small, balanced, incredibly sharp knives.
"That'll be nine gold coins," the smith announced.
Zyxin and Amal exchanged a look. They had only 30 bronze. Without a word, they left their paltry coins on the counter, snatched the knives, and bolted, leaving the blacksmith's furious shouts echoing behind them.
They started doing what they saw in the market – not just selling, but observing, learning, adapting. They lived together, a strange, resilient family. Apart from their daily grind, Amal always saw Zyxin doing intense exercises, practicing fighting moves he'd observed from the kingdom's colosseum. Curious, Amal asked him about it.
"I want to be strong," Zyxin stated, his gaze fixed on some distant, unseen horizon, a fire of fierce determination igniting his eyes. "Strong enough that no one, no system, no power, can ever claim me. Freedom isn't given in this world, Amal; it's forged, piece by grueling piece. To shed the chains of fear, to carve out a life truly our own, we must become utterly, undeniably strong."
Amal resonated deeply with his words. She wanted the same for herself. And so, she joined Zyxin in his rigorous training, two abandoned souls forging strength together in the heart of the wild.