Gray sky, wind blows in sync with leaves, trees and grass swaying side to side.
Clouds gather toward one another.
Will the storm come by?
As the wind moves through nature in harmony, Grassth smells the scent of his cooked rabbit, as well as the scent of the approaching storm.
"My food can already be eaten. Yet the storm is closing in."
"That'll lose your appetite?"
"No. I'm concerned about the storm, not the food."
"I see."
Grassth picked up the roasted rabbit, then bit into the meat, grinding it down with his teeth before swallowing it whole.
He smelled the food once again and bit into it.
Again, he ate with no distraction, continuing to consume the whole body of meat and throwing each bone to the side.
Minutes passed by, his hunger lessened. He licked his thumb, then exhaled as he rubbed his hands against his shorts, cleaning off the stains on his fingers.
"Hm… it seems the storm is now here."
As thunder struck through the clouds, dusk came.
The sunset disappeared into the fogs of the sky, air passing by and breathing through the trees and leaves.
Grassth stood up and looked around his surroundings.
He raised his head, scanning through the leaves of the trees.
Side to side he looked, comparing which tree had bigger or smaller leaves to take cover from the rain.
Finding one wide and large enough, he left the fire still burning with fuel and sat at the base of the tree.
Looking up at the sky.
"About the plans tomorrow."
"The plan is to accept the temporary contract, Grassth," Riitharion cut in.
"Stubborn havoc… shouldn't you just shut it?"
"I will not accept the contract, for doing so would selfishly harm anyone, including me."
Riitharion fell silent for a moment, while Grassth raised one knee and let the other leg lie flat on the ground, resting one arm across his knee as he shifted position.
"Selfish? Don't you have no time to waste until you choose your classification?"
"I know. Time walks with us, and wasting decisions and actions only lets it pass us by."
"Yet you sit here like a dog waiting for its owner to come."
"And yet, you can improve everything other than the main important thing you should be doing."
"It is patience."
Though through a long debate of words, it was only to pass the time deciding whether to reject or accept each other's deal.
Rain began to pour from the sky, covering silence through his ears. Grassth rested his eyes, listening to the rain like a lullaby, lowering his head.
It was a simple sound to listen to. Every raindrop felt like a guitar string being plucked, each drop ringing in his ears like music.
Thunder struck once again, and the clouds fully formed as the rain grew heavier and stronger.
Grassth and Riitharion were outside the dimension they were in.
Where the original world is…
Here in the—
Kingdom of Veylith.
Inside, the population does not exceed a hundred thousand. Yet it is a powerful kingdom, starting from disciplined soldiers to lion-hearted leaders and generals.
The people of Veylith are also passionate in business. Carts are constantly moving, importing goods from other towns and even other kingdoms.
Shops are always filled with items—smithing, clothing, materials, and anything one may need.
Inside a room within the castle of Veylith—
Footsteps echoed strongly from shoes. A beautiful dress and long ball gown dragged across the floor, shining white in the hall. It was most likely a princess.
A strong feminine scent scattered through the air, making the maids blush as they caught its fragrance while admiring the princess.
She stopped.
Then she looked down at the stairs for a moment and raised her hand, pointing with a subtle gesture.
She spoke in a calm, soothing voice.
"Two maids…"
Quickly, the maids obeyed. They walked behind her and lifted the gown, supporting her as she descended the stairs, as if they already knew what to do without being told.
Continuing, she walked down the stairs.
At the bottom, two knights faced straight down the hall. Upon hearing the footsteps, they immediately turned toward each other in sync.
As the princess arrived, they greeted in unison.
"Good evening, Your Highness."
They both bowed at the same time. As the princess passed through them, they remained bowed.
At last, the princess cleared her throat—a signal for them to raise their heads. They quickly straightened and faced her, while the maids gently released the gown.
She continued walking through the hall.
At the grand hall—
A small rolling cart moved across the floor, the sound of plates, spoons, forks, and knives being placed along a long, wide table. Footsteps came in and out through the doors.
Butlers, maids, and knights moved to their respective places.
Then a man spoke loudly.
"Oh goodness… you people!"
Everyone inside stood still.
"Don't be in such a hectic state! Or else…"
"It will not appear as it should!"
"Or the food may taste unpleasant for the King and his royal family!"
The people stood still, looking at the Chamberlain in charge of royal household affairs.
The butlers and maids, without a word, bowed and returned to their work—this time calm and focused.
After a while,
they stood at their positions, ready to serve the royals.
The giant doors opened, and the King of the castle entered with his royal family.
As they stepped into the grand hall for dinner, each member of the royal family took their seats—large, comfortable chairs prepared for them.
Then the King spoke.
"Hm… the aroma is quite nice, isn't it?"
He inhaled the scent of the food drifting toward him.
"Let us eat."
Meanwhile, outside, darkness and heavy rain covered the land. The storm had grown stronger, but the castle's massive structure was enough to muffle the noise from beyond its walls.
The town below was now empty. Streets that once held life were dim, with only a few scattered light sources flickering in the distance.
Back inside the dining hall, the Royal Family continued their meal.
The King ate calmly, chewing his food with steady motions.
As the Queen spoke,
"This rabbit stew does taste delicious."
She dipped her spoon into the stew, filling it with soup before bringing it to her lips once again.
The King, still eating gently, picked up his spoon and tapped the rim of his wine glass, creating a clear ringing sound that alerted the butlers.
In response, two butlers immediately understood. They walked up to the table and refilled the King's glass with wine as he nodded in approval.
"Excellent. You may drink the wine if you are thirsty, or if you wish to drink," he said.
And so, they continued eating.
Minutes later…
The King spoke again.
"Any news, Dexter?"
The Chamberlain stepped forward and bowed.
"Your Majesty, thank you for the call. There is news about the war—it has now been called off… or rather, stopped."
Still bowing, he spoke carefully and respectfully toward the King.
"Raise your head. Tell me about the war," the King said.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I must say… the soldiers we sent have been through rough conditions."
The King replied, "Likely to be dead?"
"Yes… somewhat, Your Majesty. Some are injured, and others are missing. Should we reward the families of the fallen soldiers?"
The King leaned slightly, touching his chin as he thought.
"What about the leaders or captains?"
"They are safe, Your Majesty."
"Reward the captains."
The Chamberlain's heart beat faster, but he continued.
"Apologies, Your Majesty… but what about the families who have lost? The soldiers who fought for us?"
The King met his eyes directly, then smiled slightly, raising his brows. He shifted into a straighter posture and let out a small burp.
"Oh yes, Dexter. Reward them too… a bit of gold."
Dexter felt disbelief, but he remained obedient. Still, he needed to continue reporting.
"Continue, Dexter," the King said.
"Y-yes, Your Majesty… the war ended in our victory."
"Obviously," the King replied in an arrogant tone, followed by a quiet giggle.
"We gained more reputation, as well as loot from the war. The towns were relatively safe, though their houses were left in ruins."
"Should we—"
"Continue, Dexter," the King cut in, his tone indifferent.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Dexter blinked twice, lowered his head slightly, then raised it again to meet the King's gaze.
"Oh, Your Majesty… there is also a message from the captain—or rather, the general."
He pulled out a letter that a nearby butler had been holding.
"The unit that handles the special knights—the most elite among our forces—"
"Yes, yes, I know. Continue," the King interrupted.
"Their base camp was also destroyed. It was flattened into the ground—no longer recognizable."
"Hm. Did they escape? How so?"
"Well, Your Majesty…" Dexter paused, scanning the letter.
"Hm? Is something wrong?"
Dexter's face tensed. Sweat formed as he stuttered.
"T-they… they sacrificed a special knight."
After reading further, he looked up at the King, waiting for a reaction.
But the King remained still—like stone.
"How many survived?"
Dexter looked back at the letter again.
"The captain survived. There are eight knights left… five d-dead, and one was sacrificed so the others could escape."
"Dismissed."
The King stood up, followed by the rest of the royal family.
Dexter remained frozen in place, shocked by what had just happened—and more so by the King's lack of reaction. No grief. No concern. Only cold acceptance.
Questions filled his mind. Why was the King so harsh?
Why did he seem not to care at all?
The Royal Family continued walking toward the giant doors, acting as if nothing had happened. Cold. Unmoved.
Their footsteps faded as the massive doors slowly closed behind them.
Thunder striking loudly once again.
Back to Grassth and Riitharion.
Thunder struck loudly as strong winds blew through the forest. The fire had gone out, yet Grassth remained seated at the base of the tree, covered by its long, wide leaves.
After a while, late into the night, the storm grew even stronger. Grassth continued waiting beneath the tree for it to pass, resisting the cold wind against his body. He could feel the rain dripping from the leaves above, landing on him drop by drop.
Still, he rested his eyes, knowing no one would come to save him from the storm. Only he himself could endure it.
He waited for the storm to pass—for the sun to rise, hoping its light would finally reach him.
Hours passed…
Yet the storm did not stop. It only grew louder, thunder striking harder than before. The rain intensified, the leaves above unable to hold it back as more water poured onto his head and down his body.
Grassth slowly opened his eyes and looked around.
The campfire was already gone—destroyed.
The trees swayed violently around him.
He slowly stood, placing a hand against the tree behind him to steady himself. It was then that Grassth realized he might need to find another place to stay.
But even if he wandered through the forest, he knew he was already lost. The darkness made it impossible to see clearly.
Thunder struck again.
The brief flash of light made him realize something—he could still move through the dark by relying on each strike of lightning, though it would be risky.
Riitharion spoke,
"Do not move from your current spot."
Grassth stopped just as he was about to walk.
"What? Is there any threat opposing us right now?"
"If you move from there, your body will be blown by the wind—every limb sliced at once."
"What?"
Grassth looked toward the wind, trying to see what Riitharion meant. There was a stone within his camp. He waited for another strike of thunder.
When it came, he focused on the stone.
It remained intact.
He waited again.
Another strike—still nothing. The stone had not changed. Doubt crept into his mind.
He was about to speak—
Then another flash.
For a split second, he sharpened his gaze.
The stone—
It was already cut in half.
He simply hadn't seen it happen.
Grassth's eyes widened. He stepped back until his back touched the tree once more.
Then he sat down again at its base, waiting longer than before.
"What is this?" he muttered.
"The wind is cutting through even stone? Then how are the trees still standing?"
Riitharion responded,
"Suspicious, isn't it? But I've realized something, Grassth."
"What?"
"Accept the contract. Now."
"Stubborn! I'm in a dangerous situation right now and you're still talking about that—!"
"The trees are alive."
"…What are you trying to say? Of course they're alive."
"Your life is in serious danger, fool."
Without wasting another second, Grassth moved away from his position, creating some distance from the tree.
Thunder struck again, lighting the forest for a split second.
He looked at the tree.
It was different.
From its roots, it moved—wavering unnaturally despite the wind. Its bark seemed to snap and shift, yet no sound came from it.
Grassth raised his arms into a guarded stance. The rain now poured harder onto his body.
Another strike.
His face froze in shock.
The tree—had moved from its place.
"What? How did it move so fast?"
Riitharion spoke urgently,
"Fool—go back to the tree. Slowly."
Grassth, no longer stubborn, listened for the sake of his survival.
He slowly stepped back toward the tree, staying close enough for cover but not too near its trunk.
Riitharion spoke again,
"This is off."
"What now?" Grassth replied.
"The tree isn't affected by the wind."
"That's what I've been saying!" Grassth whispered.
Before Riitharion could continue—
Thunder snapped.
In that instant, the roots of the tree were suddenly right in front of Grassth.
His eyes widened. His arms shot up in defense, ears straining for any sound.
He waited—
But the tree made no noise.
Riitharion shouted,
"Duck!"
Grassth obeyed instantly.
Another flash—
He saw the roots retracting, but they had changed shape, becoming thin, sharp edges.
"Impossible!" Grassth said.
"This tree isn't normal!"
"Fool—the trees around you are the same!"
"What?!"
Thunder struck again—
And for a brief moment, Grassth looked around.
He was surrounded.
Trees encircled him from every side.
His heart pounded rapidly, anxiety rising as the darkness closed in.
"Shit… shit, shit…! What can I do in this situation?!"
He froze. His body refused to move under the pressure building in his mind.
"I haven't even chosen my classification yet…!"
"Why am I already in this situation?!"
Then—
A sharp sting pierced his back.
At the same time, he felt his body being lifted.
As he reached behind himself
Thunder struck.
In that brief flash, he saw it.
Something he could not believe.
A root.
Had pierced through his back and out his stomach.
Blood spilled from his mouth as he coughed violently. He grabbed the root lodged through him, trying to pull it out—
But his body was already weakening.