Late at night, as we left the inn, a small detachment of soldiers waited just outside.
"Lord Atya, His Highness Asuola is waiting at the Cyrus border."
"Let's go," Atya replied.
It was disappointing that we wouldn't have time to visit Cleorh, but nothing could be done. Rather than mount our horses, we set out on foot. From the city gate, it would take about an hour to reach the border. Surrounded by mountains, the path offered nothing to see—only jagged rocks and punishing weather.
After a while, mist began to gather along the crags, and Father issued an unexpected order:
"Do not use your observation abilities. Under no circumstances are you to use magic."
A flicker of doubt crossed Abril's face. We were still on Cyrus soil—why hide? Ever since this journey began, Father's caution had grown stranger and stranger; there must be a serious reason.
"Stop here," Atya commanded.
The guards tensed, anticipating an ambush, but none came. Instead, four figures materialized ahead. Father's hand never went to his sword, so whoever it was, he recognized them.
"Atya," Asuola said, stepping forward, "the Saints have prepared the challenge for this ceremony. I will begin teleporting your candidates to the site."
Atya bowed his head in acknowledgment.
"Even though the destination is distant, open a door and link us to it," Asuola intoned. "In the name of Cartheyla, connect them to the horizon."
As the chant ended, Will and Abril began to fade—while Abiguel remained solid, unmoved.
"Before leaving Cyrus, your mission is to find a person," Atya said. "You might wonder why finding someone would prove you're fit to serve as a guard — but you have one year to complete it. You might ask how the person looks. You'll know when you meet them — because that is the one you're destined to protect. You might wonder how you'll survive in a foreign land. That, too, is part of a guard's duty. Everything you do will serve to shape you into the person you must become. Until then, you are forbidden from returning to Cyrus. No matter what happens — you must fulfill your mission."
As he spoke, a flicker of emotion crossed Father's face. Worry — subtle, but unmistakable. It was strange. To us, Father had always been strong, composed, deliberate. In every book I've read, the Guard Ceremony was a test of strength — a mock battle or a public display of power. Even his ceremony was a brutal test of might.
So why was ours like this?
Just before I lost consciousness, a single image slipped into my mind.
It wasn't my mother, or father, or the dusty books I read instead of training.
It was Shi — my little sister — fast asleep. Peaceful. Unaware.
"Why do you oppose so strongly the role of a Guard?" a voice asked, once again cutting through the silence.
"Why can't you accept your fate?" came another, colder voice.
"Why can't you follow the way the world works?" a third, insistent voice questioned.
"The outcome is inevitable. If you accept it, you'll be able to protect," the first voice said — now sounding almost worried.
"If I accept this fate… I won't be able to protect what I cherish most," Will replied, his voice steady.
"Why can't you understand?" the third voice snapped, now furious. "You can struggle as hard as you like — but sooner or later, you'll have to choose between your ideals."
"Ha… haaa… hahaha." The first voice laughed — sharp and bitter.
"So be it, young boy. But don't forget: clinging to your ideals with all your might is no different from walking the path fate has laid for you. Slowing the inevitable won't save anyone. In fact, you'll only add another soul to the list of those you failed to protect."
A pause.
"In the end… having your ideals shattered by your own stubbornness might not be such a bad lesson after all."
"Sigh... Why does everyone try to decide my future?"
"All I ever wanted was a simple life—reading books, watching my family smile, seeing my brothers grow into who they dreamed of becoming. Just witnessing their happiness would've been enough to bring peace to my soul.
Lately, I find myself looking forward to playing with my sisters—even though I never did before. I'm starting to realize… I love my family more than I love my books.
But if I become a Guard, I'll be forced to protect someone at the cost of taking someone else's life. That… that feels wrong. It feels unfair. And I can't help but think—my family would be disappointed in me for becoming that kind of person."
"Even though your predecessors built this family atop mountains of corpses?"
"We live in the present. Looking back won't solve anything. Even if our ancestors built this family over the lives of others, that doesn't mean mine has followed the same path."
"How naïve… Either you refuse to accept it, or you're simply clueless, young boy."
Once again, the world began to crumble. But instead of growing louder, the voices faded, becoming whispers swallowed by silence.
The ground shifted beneath him—it felt like the dream was ending.
And just before everything collapsed, a final, grieving voice echoed:
"Listen closely, young boy. The day will come when you must choose between your ideals… or your treasure. If you choose now, you may still save one.
So, tell me this:
Will you lose the one you cherish most…
—or will you Guard?"
The world was in shambles. It was the second dream—so vivid, it felt real. A dream that tried to guide me, to question my choices. A dream now fading, quietly pulling away the memory of what I was meant to do.
It was the end of the dream.
After I regained consciousness, I stood up and looked around. In front of me stretched a dense forest; behind me, an empty field. Nothing felt familiar—no landmarks, no memories—so it must be an unknown city or village.
One year? Uhm...
In just a few days, the month of Doragoon will end, marking the close of summer. Autumn will likely arrive soon after, painting the world with brown and fading green leaves—dancing in the air before falling to the earth, as if the season itself devours the last breath of summer. A season I've always found beautiful.
Now what?
Prologue 0.2 - The Stranger and the Thread
The boy sat at the center of the lake, as if the water itself were holding him captive. The distance between us was perhaps two hundred steps—not far, but not close enough to bridge without care. Slowly, the fog thickened, curling like pale strands of silk between the trees, each thread tightening, as though the forest were spinning a web around me.
"How did you enter this place?" His voice was edged with suspicion.
"This is a Sanctuary," he continued before I could answer. "It's master is a fairy. The entire area is sealed from the outside. No one should be able to pass through. So—how did you?" His brow furrowed, confusion darkening into irritation.
"I didn't sense anything," I replied. "No barrier. No seal."
"That's impossible." His tone hardened. "I've been here for a hundred years. Not even a fragment of light has broken into this space."
I hesitated. To me, this was just a forest. The only thing that felt wrong was the fog, drawing closer, strand by strand, like invisible threads pulling me toward the center.
"What happened to you?" I asked at last. "Why have you been here for hundreds of years?"
He looked at me with a shadow in his eyes, his words like a curse recited too many times to forget.
"With power like yours, you thought you could do anything. You turned thousands of dreams to dust. But your greatest sin—the one the world will never forgive—was bringing fear into it. And now, the web you've avoided for so long… will close."
Ah… it wasn't that he couldn't leave.
Sometimes, words alone can weave threads stronger than chains—threads that bind not the body, but the mind. He hadn't been sealed here, nor shackled to this place; it was only his own belief that held him in its web.
But now, seeing another person step into this realm… it reminded him of what he truly was.
The fog stirred, then surged toward him, curling inwards like countless thin strands drawing tight around prey. For an instant, it seemed the forest itself was trying to drag him back into its grasp. And then—
in a heartbeat—
it vanished.
And so did the boy.
Only a faint echo drifted across the still water, barely louder than a breath:
"...Thank you."
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It had been hours since I awoke and began wandering through the forest, yet nothing greeted me but endless ranks of towering trees. Their leaves, brittle and dry, drifted down like tired embers, their hues a deep brown tinged with dark purple. Each one swayed briefly in the chill air before settling into the forest floor, where the wind swept them into restless spirals.
The air here felt heavy, as if the forest itself sought to hold me within its grasp. The deeper I walked, the more the weather turned against me—gusts slipping between the trunks like cold whispers. Mist began to coil low along the ground, at first thin and harmless, but thickening until it gnawed away at the shapes of the trees.
That was when I heard it—faint at first, almost lost in the sigh of the wind. A sound not born from branch or leaf, but from something alive.
It came in stuttered fragments, too quiet to make out the words—like someone speaking to themselves just out of sight. The cadence was uneven: pause, murmur, pause again.
Not the voice of someone calling for help… but the voice of someone who had long since stopped expecting to be heard.
As I followed the faint voice, the fog began to thin—not vanish, but loosen just enough to reveal a figure in the distance. A small silhouette stood among the shadows. As I drew closer, another form emerged beside it.
At first, I thought it was just another trick of the forest. But then, the fog shifted, and the outline towered upward—vast, immense, impossible.
"Please," the smaller figure called out, her voice steady, unshaken. "Do not come any closer. I don't know how you entered this forest, but don't try anything foolish."
How can she be so calm? What is she even trying to accomplish, standing at its side?
And then I saw it clearly.
A reptile. No—
A Dragon.
Not just any dragon, but the dragon spoken of only in books. A being long thought extinct—not erased by the will of the gods, but bestowed by them as one of the Unknowns. Its disappearance was no divine mercy; it was forced into slumber, sealed away by human hands.
This dragon was once called "The Flying Calamity." A threat so great it was ranked Hidden Class 3: Calamity Break. A monster marked as the Third Unknown by the old gods.
In every story I've read, the ending was always the same: a hero arose, drove it back, and sealed it away forever.
And yet—here it was.
Standing. Breathing. Waiting.
And beside it, a girl who looked as if she meant to set it free.
If she succeeds, the world will know only ruin.
Nothing could be done, it was like my father said – What will I do in front of an astonishing foe?
The answer is simple.
Nothing…
Nothing could be done.
It was just as my father once said — What will you do before an astonishing foe?
The answer was simple.
Nothing.
The fog grew thicker, curling around me as if the forest itself was trying to hide me. The dragon's massive form stirred, scales glimmering faintly through the mist. With every movement, the fog seemed to recoil, scattering in pale waves.
Then, before I could even meet its eyes, a crushing aura burst forth — suffocating, ancient, and directed entirely at me.
Wha—
Even if I tried to cast a spell, it would have been useless. There was no time, no space, no chance to defend.
In less than a second, the ominous aura reached me—
But nothing happened.
A barrier was already in place, shimmering faintly around me like a veil of light.
How…?
The distance between me and the dragon wasn't short, but not long either. I hadn't heard a single chant.
"How come you protect this poor little being?" The dragon's voice rumbled like thunder restrained. "If he managed to enter this domain, that means he is — or may become — a threat to us, Princess."
"If you kill the young boy now, you'll only make it harder for me to protect this place," the girl replied softly, her tone calm, almost fragile.
"Protect?" The dragon's thought leaked through, sharp and incredulous.
"Hm… you must leave this domain, young boy," the girl said at last, disappointment clear in her voice.
It seems her Highness will not allow a bystander to stay any longer…
'Human', the dragon's voice echoed, this time within my mind.
Telepathy? I wondered.
Your arrival may have a reason, the dragon continued. By your uniform, I see you belong to the noble house of Cyrus. So, I shall give you two choices — either perish here and now, or…
Time itself seemed to stop.
From beneath the dragon's shadow, a black sword rose, its blade humming with something far older than magic.
A laugh escaped my lips — low, unsteady, and bitter.
"Ha… ha… It seems I can't even choose my own future,"I whispered. "Why must it be me? I can't even wield a sword properly… nor cast a spell."
The dragon's tone shifted, its voice twisting with something between sorrow and prophecy.
You may hold no worth now, little boy… but your future hints otherwise.
Only ten beings in each age are granted the right to glimpse what is yet to come — the Oracles. And yet, there are no records of one who could foresee the future of another living soul.
The boy stepped forward.
His resolve was made.
"If you pick up that sword," the girl warned, "your fate will be sealed, young boy. Choosing this path is like killing yourself. You will dance as fate commands — alone, empty, and without purpose."
Her voice trembled, though she tried to hide it. Worry rippled through her words, visible in the small movements of her body — the way her hands clenched at her robe, the faint tremor in her breath. Her eyes, once calm, were now filled with something closer to fear than pity.
"You don't even know the price of making a pact with this dragon," she whispered. "You're not meant to stop here, Will. You love your family far too much…"
"I can return you safely out of this domain."