It's a dark night, filled with the sounds of battle cries, clashing swords, and fire crackling in every direction.
A four-year-old boy stood scared behind his mother,
holding a small wooden sword in one hand—with Arthur, carved on it.
His other hand gripped tightly onto his mother's gown.
Inside the burning room, his father appeared in a rush, fully geared up and ready for battle.
He took one final glance at his son—his eyes lingering, heavy with something unspoken—before stepping out of the room.
"Stay hidden," he muttered, his voice low but firm.
The mother turned to her son, knelt down, and held his face gently in her hands. "It's okay," she whispered, brushing his hair aside. "You're going to be safe."
She picked him up and rushed outside to a waiting horse-drawn carriage.
"Go! Ride quickly!" she ordered the rider, her voice sharp, desperate.
Then a loud shout rang from behind—men were approaching. The danger was too close.
She didn't get into the carriage.
Instead, she yelled to rider, "Goo! I'll follow!"
She turned back to look at Arthur one last time—a smile on her face, tears in her eyes.
"Hang on, son."
Then, without hesitation, she turned, picked up her sword, and charged back toward the flames.
The carriage lurched forward so suddenly that Arthur lost his balance. He tumbled from the seat, falling hard onto the wooden floor of the ride. The carved sword clattered beside him.
He stared at the open road ahead, eyes wide, heart pounding.
Behind him, the screams, the fire, and his mother's figure disappeared into the night.
Arthur sat in the corner of the carriage, curled up tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks. His small hands clutched the wooden sword close to his chest. The fire and screams had grown distant, but the fear still clung to him.
Suddenly—
The sharp whistle of arrows cut through the air, followed by a heavy thud and a horse's agonized cry. The carriage jolted violently. The carriage swaying and bumping across the uneven road. It moved faster now—erratic, uncontrolled.
Arthur struggled to his knees and crawled toward the small window.
His eyes widened.
There was no rider.
The rider seat is soaked with blood, and an arrow stuck out from one of the horses pulling the carriage. The path ahead was shrouded in darkness and thick mist—straight, but rough and patchy.
The carriage shook violently again. Arthur lost his grip.
His small body was thrown backward, slamming against the wooden wall.
He became unconscious.
Arthur slowly wake up rubbing his aching head, blinking through dry, heavy eyes. The wooden carriage he was in had tipped over, its wheels broken, lying on its side by the edge of the road. Dried blood streaked the splintered wood, and one of the horses lay motionless a few meters away.
His small hands pushed against the door, but it was jammed. With effort, he crawled through the broken window frame and fell to the ground with a soft grunt.
Ahead of him was a soft golden light peeking through the trees.
He walked toward it, barefoot and quiet.
As he passed the last line of trees, the forest opened into a wide green field and swaying grass.
He rubbed his eyes and whispered to himself, "...Mom? Dad?".
As he about to cry,
Suddenly, A white rabbit hopped gently across the field.
Arthur's expression softened with amusement. For a brief moment, the fear in his chest loosened. He giggled quietly and chased after it, holding out his hands.
"Wait! Come here!"
But just as he got close—
Thwack!
A stone zipped through the air and struck the rabbit. It squealed once and collapsed.
Arthur stopped in shock.
Two middle-aged hunters emerged from behind the trees, holding slings and rough burlap bags. One of them laughed as he picked up the rabbit.
"Nice shot," the other said, slapping his back.
Then they noticed Arthur—a small boy alone in the wilderness, his clothes dusty but finely made, a small golden chain glinting at his neck.
They paused.
"Hey, kid," one said, crouching a little. "Where are your parents?"
Arthur hesitated. His lips trembled slightly. "I... I'm looking for them."
The two men exchanged a quick glance. Their friendly expressions faded into greedy.
One leaned in, chuckling. "Don't worry. We'll help you."
Before Arthur could say anything, rough hands grabbed his shoulders. They stripped him of his ornaments—rings, belt buckle, except the carved wooden sword—and tossed them into their sacks.
"You'll be safe with us," one said, smiling falsely.
They led him to a distant village, more like a trading post—dusty roads, wooden huts, loud merchants shouting over one another. After handing off their bags of rabbits to a wealthy-looking trader, they exchanged hushed words and coins.
Then they turned to Arthur.
"This man will take you to your parents, alright?"
Arthur stared, confused, eyes wide and uncertain.
The trader grinned, revealing gold teeth. "You're a lucky boy."
As the two hunters walked away, counting their coins, Arthur finally realized—he wasn't going home.
Three years later...
After Arthur had become a slave to the trader.
He is now living in Cravendorn Kingdom, one of the wealthiest kingdom.
Long ago, this land had discovered vast deposits of gold ore buried beneath its rocky hills. From that day forward, Cravendorn rose rapidly in wealth, drowning in riches. The kingdom became a hub of Trading businesses, and wealth—but not kindness.
Behind the polished streets, marble towers, Trade markets and all that wealth, Cravendorn was rotting at its core.
Its people were known for their greed, their cunning... and their cruelty. Commoners were treated like filth. Slaves were just objects—used and traded like livestock.
And Arthur, for the past three years, had been stuck with the trader. Since he was still a child, no one wanted to buy him. so he is doing all the odd jobs and getting kicked everyday from the greedy trader, who always makes him work than more of his age and still underfeeds him.
Trader-
"Move faster"
Whack!"
These crates won't move themselves!"
Arthur was forced to clean floors, carry water barrels, load carts, and sweep stables.
And yet… somethings off.
Even though his meals were scarce, barely more than scraps… even though his body should have withered from exhaustion and hunger...
He grew lean but rigid and strong.
One day, the trader stood watching Arthur from across the yard as the boy carried two heavy crates toward the storage tent.
The man chewed on a dry root and narrowed his eyes.
"…Where the heck is he from?" he muttered under his breath. "How's he getting bigger and stronger on that food?"
He scratched his belly, then shrugged. "Ah, whatever. Good for me. Bigger means more gold when someone finally buys the brat."
Then he shouted across the yard, "Ayy, freeloader! Move it! Those carriers need to be sent by afternoon!"
Arthur just kept working, expressionless, hauling crates twice his size under the golden sun—like a ghost wearing a child's face.
In his mind, the only thought that remained was:
"So this... is all my life is going to be?"
After a few days...
The trader shouted, "Ayy kid! Put those swords and crates in the carriers! We're going to Valoria Kingdom to trade those."
Arthur thought to himself, Valoria? I think I've heard it before, but I'm not sure how it is. Probably the same people and same stuff. But... by any chance... will Mom and Dad be there...?
They set off, and after a few days on the road, they finally reached the Kingdom of Valoria, with its huge, rigid walls and many soldiers and guards roaming around. Even though it was a little different from the wealthy Kingdom Cravendorn, this place was also huge.
Arthur noticed the greedy trader at the gate, looking stressed and seemingly trying to negotiate with the guards to enter the kingdom and trade.
After unloading the goods in the market, Arthur accidentally bumped into a wealthy-looking woman. He quickly said, "Sorry," and closed his eyes, expecting a slap on the face.
But instead, she said, "I'm sorry, kid. I was the one who bumped into you," and handed him an apple before leaving.
Arthur was confused.
Later, he saw a few slaves laughing and chatting with what seemed to be a commoner. They were talking about how one of them had become a free man after being a slave.
For the first time, Arthur learned that a slave could also become a free man.
He walked toward the crowd and asked the man, "How can a slave become a free man? Can I be free too? What should I do?"
They understood his emotion and said:
"If your master frees you, then yes—you're a free man. If not… you wait. Sometimes you're sold, and the next owner might set you free."
"Or," another added, "you can earn and buy your own freedom. Hard... but not impossible."
Arthur felt a slight hope rise within him.
They turned to leave, but one of them paused and looked back at Arthur.
"Hope's a dangerous thing here, boy. But sometimes… it's all you've got."
In the sweltering, scorching heat, Arthur was loading crates onto a cart beside the trader's shop.
Suddenly, from the uphill above, a heavily loaded cart broke free and began speeding downhill as it thundered toward the street—where a small girl stood, unaware of the danger.
Without thinking, Arthur dropped the crate in his hands and sprinted.
In a close call, he leapt forward, grabbing the girl in mid-air just in time. He slammed the cart hard onto its wheel. Arthur crashed into the ground, rolling—with his arms around the little girl protecting.
The runaway cart, now off-course, smashed directly into the trader's shop, shattering spice jars, crates of weapons, and valuable ornaments into splinters and dust.
"YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SH*T!" the trader screamed, stomping out of the wreckage.
"You made me a huge loss!" he shouted, lifting his leather belt high, eyes red with rage. "I'll beat that rat instinct out of you—!"
Before the belt could hit, a hand grabbed it mid-air.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward and stood between the trader and Arthur. His posture was composed, yet threatening. He reached his other hand out to Arthur, helping him off the ground.
"Who the hell are you?!" the trader barked at the Man. "Move aside! This brat needs a lesson!"
The man didn't flinch. His voice was calm and sharp.
"I am Garron Vale a Royal Guardian and Combat Trainer for the Valoria Kingdom."
The trader's face paled.
[[
When Arthur slammed against the speeding cart—his body absorbing the crushing impact—something awakened.
Something buried.Something unknown.
As he lay there, dazed, the world seemed to slow.
His vision blurred. His heartbeat grew louder.
Thump... Thump... Thump...
And then—a voice.
Dark. Reddish flashes filled his mind.
A whisper, like it came from the depths of some ancient, suffocating place:
With a menacing voice, "Oohhh... you're not even eighteen yet... just a child... and you can already feel me?""What a rare little piece you are. Hahaha..."
Arthur gasped. His eyes flickered open, barely able to see between the flashes of light and color.
In those moments, the world fractured.
One moment he saw Vale stepping forward, blocking the trader's strike.
The next—a red misted realm, endless and shifting.And in it, a shadowed figure, enormous and coiled, watching him.
He clutched his head.
What is this...? What's happening to me?
The voice returned, now broken—like static :
"That blow to your head... and the presence of this man... it triggered your senses.""Your body instinctively feels the threat he carries... this Royal Guardian.""But don't be scared, little one... heh... Let's kill him—HAHAHAHA—"
Arthur groaned, his hands pressing to his temples.
Then—
Vale's hand reached down to him.
"Come on, kid," he said calmly.
The moment Arthur touched Vale's hand, it all stopped.
The red faded.The voice vanished.
And everything returned to normal.
Arthur breathing heavily. His hand was still on his forehead. he thought to himself,
Am I... daydreaming?Must be the hit on my head... right...?
What the hell was that...?
]]
The Trader, still puffing up his chest, he snapped back, "So what?! He's my slave, I have every right!"
The man narrowed his eyes.
"This child just saved a noble girl. If you lay even a finger on him... you'll have to worry about your head."
The trader hesitated. Fear crept into his eyes as he instinctively took a step back.
"You shouldn't threaten me like that," he muttered. "Is this how you treat traders from Cravendorn? This slave just made me suffer a massive loss!"
The stranger glanced at Arthur, then at the wrecked shop.
"This kid has better instincts and speed than most of my students. He acted without hesitation and saved a life. I like him."
He turned to the trader, voice steady.
"I'll pay you double his worth—and cover your loss. Be grateful and stop sulking."
The trader's face twitched. Greed and fear battled in his eyes. He looked at Arthur, then at the wreckage of his shop—spices scattered like dust, broken crates, shattered ornaments.
"Tch... Fine," he spat. "Take him."
The royal guardian gave him a bag of gold coins.
He placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder and said calmly, "Come with me, boy."
Arthur stared at the man's face, unsure what's happening.
He followed silently, glancing once at the trader, who was now shouting at nearby workers to clean the mess.
As they walked through the streets of Valoria, the man spoke without turning his head.
"You've got fast reflexes. You didn't hesitate. That's rare in someone your age."
Arthur didn't reply.
After a few moments, the man added, "You're strong, too. That's surprising... considering how you look.", "is he really from Cravendorn?", he thought himself.
Arthur with confused feeling.
Strong...? Me...?
The man glanced down at him. "What's your name?"
"...Arthur."
"Arthur, huh? Alright then."
The gates of a large training compound appeared ahead—tall stone walls and warriors training in rows with hardwork and discipline.
Arthur asked queitly, "So are you my new Master?"
You're not a slave anymore, Arthur," the man said laughingly.
"You're a student of Valoria now."
Arthur blinked.
"...I'm not a slave? What do you mean? I'm... free?"
Vale nodded with a small smile."Yes, you are a free young man now."
For the first time in years, Arthur had a real feeling.
I'm free...What is this feeling I'm having...? I'm not sure...Is this called freedom... or happiness? But... why are my tears falling?I'm not sad... then why...?
"Mr. Vale… how can I repay you? No matter what you ask, I will do it. No matter how big the amount, I will repay you in my life. I owe you my life. Thank you… thank you for saving me."
Vale chuckled.
"Don't worry about that, kid. You don't owe me your life."
"Like when you helped that little girl from being crushed under the rolling cart—does that mean she owes you her life? No. You did a good thing. I saw potential in you."
"You're still young. So train hard, and become loyal to Valoria."
Arthur nodded slowly, tears still falling, his nose running."...Yes."
But deep down, he felt something stronger—a warmth in his chest.A growing admiration for Vale.
Vale led him to his compartment room inside the academy.
It was already occupied by three boys, all around age fifteen.
"Since most people don't send their kids to live in the academy until they're fifteen," Vale said, "you'll be staying with these boys. Your classes will still be with your age group. Okay, kid?"
Arthur nodded. "Yes."
Vale gave a brief nod. "All the essentials and clothes will be here in your compartment. Get yourself ready and meet me at the main gate by 5 PM. It's an off day for me—so I'll show you around."
He left.
Inside, the three boys turned to Arthur with curious smiles.
"Hey, Arthur," one said.
"I'm Darrow Rin.""I'm Darrow Fin.""And I'm Darrow Zin.", "We are brothers and they call us DDD."
All three smiled together. "Nice to meet ya."
One of them added, "How do you know Trainer Vale? He doesn't seem like an approachable person. In fact... we've never seen him talk to anyone after class."
Arthur wiping his tears and nose. "Long story."
As he began to explain his tale, his voice lightened, the room warming slightly with the new bond forming.