The wind howled across the open mountain range.
Mist rolled over the jagged cliffs, curling like phantom fingers around the young man standing at the edge of a precipice. The sun was low, casting long shadows that danced like memories on the rocky ground. The air was crisp and sharp, filled with the scent of pine and the distant murmur of a river below.
A figure stood still against the backdrop of the vast sky—long silver hair fluttering in the wind, a black cloak clinging to his lean frame. But he was not old. The wizard, once wrinkled and slow, now looked no older than twenty. His features were sharp, almost too perfect as if carved from time itself. His youthful form glowed faintly with ancient power.
In his hand was a strange book—its pages shifting like water, shimmering like stardust. It wasn't a book made of parchment and ink. It was born of memory, of magic.
His hand pulsed once. A sigil etched in violet light spiraled around his wrist. The pages began to turn by themselves.
"A tale… opposite to Hell's Blessing," he murmured. "Let us remember... Heaven's Curse."
Long ago…
There walked a man in black.
He wore a hermit's cap and a long cloak that swallowed light. No one knew his face. No one ever saw his eyes. He walked the lands, silent and invisible.
But wherever he walked, he helped.
A boy drowning in a river—saved.
A starving family—fed.
A village cursed by plague—healed.
And yet… he asked for nothing.
When the drums of war echoed between two great kingdoms, and ten thousand soldiers clashed blades, it was this man in black who walked into the center of the battlefield.
He did not speak. He raised no banner.
But the earth cracked beneath him. Fire and wind sang with his steps. And when the dust settled, not a single enemy stood.
He saved them.
He ended the war.
But the world did not cheer.
It feared.
"He is not one of us."
"A monster hiding in the shape of a man."
"He has cursed even Heaven with his touch."
And so they turned against him. Called him the Devil's child. They bound him in chains of gold, cursed his name, and sentenced him to death.
On the day of his execution, a man in white came.
He wore the same hermit cap. His cloak shone like a pearl. No one knew who he was.
But when their eyes met—black and white—the world trembled.
And then… war.
A war no one remembered starting.
A war no one could explain.
The two kingdoms shattered.
From their ashes rose five.
And the story ended. No names. No heroes. No villains.
Just echoes.
The wizard closed the book.
The wind carried its final page away.
"Kyota..." he said, staring into the horizon.
"You carry both legacies. The choice is yours. Heaven's Curse… or Hell's Blessing. The world will not decide. But maybe—those who walk with you will."
He smiled.
A wind passed his face as if someone unseen had just walked by.
"We'll meet again, I'm sure."
Meanwhile…
Kyota walked.
Across mountains. Through forests. Past rivers.
Alone.
No destination, only instinct.
His breath misted in the cold air. His steps were steady. The five elements slumbered inside him—fire, water, earth, wind, and lightning. But he did not rely on them. Not yet. Not until he understood them. Not until he understood himself.
He trained at sunrise, slashing his sword through the air that froze his skin.
He meditated under starlight, listening to his soul whisper through the silence.
He hunted wild beasts with nothing but his instincts.
He shared his fire with lost travelers.
He mended a broken wheel for an old merchant and carried a child down a steep slope after she sprained her ankle.
He asked for nothing in return.
At night, he sat by a small fire. Cooked meat. Cleaned his sword. Sharpened his senses.
No laughter.
No smiles.
Just purpose.
He met a princess once more on a road—riding in a cart protected by guards. Their eyes met. A small nod.
Then silence.
They parted again.
One evening, Kyota reached a wide plateau high in the mountains. A river ran down from a cliff, forming a clear pool beneath a tall waterfall.
Perfect.
He removed his coat and stepped into the icy water.
But someone else was already there.
A girl with bright golden hair stood waist-deep, frozen mid-bath.
Her golden eyes widened. Her mouth dropped.
"W-WHAT!? Hey! What do you think you're doing?! You—pervert!" she shouted.
Kyota blinked once.
"Bathing."
He walked past her and stood beneath the waterfall, letting the cold slam into his shoulders.
The girl stared, flabbergasted.
"Wh-why didn't he even look at me?! I'm in the water! I'm naked! Most boys would've screamed—or stared—or passed out!"
She looked down at her own body.
"Am I not… attractive enough? I'm fourteen—almost fifteen! I have curves! Is he blind?!"
Her cheeks turned red with both anger and embarrassment.
Kyota didn't speak. Didn't move.
Just let the water crash down over him.
Later that night, Kyota sat by a fire beneath a stone overhang, drying his cloak.
The girl approached and tossed a water pouch beside him.
"You're lucky I'm on duty," she said. "There are beasts out here. You shouldn't camp alone."
He nodded.
"I'm a knight from the Water Kingdom. Mireia."
He didn't respond.
She raised a brow. "It's polite to give your name when someone offers theirs."
Kyota looked into the flames.
"When is the Water Stone Tournament?"
"Nice name," she muttered. "Wait, seriously? That's your answer?"
"A week from now," she said. "The other elemental tournaments happen on alternating weeks."
Silence.
"...Well?" she said, tapping her foot. "Still rude not to give your name."
"Kyota Yoru."
Her eyes twitched. "Okay, see? That wasn't so hard."
She paused.
"Where are your parents?"
He stiffened.
"Don't."
"What?"
"Don't ask about things you don't understand."
She folded her arms. "Fine. But a kid your age, with no parents, no home, wandering alone—should be in an orphanage."
A sudden image pierced Kyota's mind.
Cold floors.
Crying children.
A locked door.
A priest's voice, echoing lies.
He inhaled sharply.
"Not happening."
She smirked. "Then behave. Or I'll drag you there myself."
He looked at her.
"You strong enough to do that?"
Her eye twitched. She grabbed the hilt of her sword.
"You just proved my point," Kyota said softly. "Ego always comes before logic. You didn't hesitate to raise your sword against a kid."
She froze.
"Let's battle then," he said, rising.
"No," she snapped. "I don't fight children."
He stepped forward.
"And I don't fight women. But I lost my words… I won't hold back this time."
Suddenly—
A massive serpent lunged from behind her.
In a flash, Kyota's blade whirled past.
The serpent's head flew through the air and hit the ground with a thud.
Mireia spun around in shock.
"W-what the hell…"
Kyota didn't speak. He wrapped himself in his blanket and lay beside the fire.
She stared at the monster's corpse.
Then at him.
He was already asleep.
"Who… are you…?" she whispered.
The fire crackled.
The stars wheeled above.
And the boy who walked alone dreamed of nothing but silence.