The Moon Kingdom—Residence of the Grand General.
The dead of night. The Grand General lay deep in slumber upon his sprawling, velvet-lined bed. Suddenly—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The rhythmic rapping shattered the silence. His brows knit together instantly. To have a pleasant dream interrupted was a grievance he did not take lightly. He sat up slowly, his voice low and vibrating with suppressed irritation.
"What is it?"
From outside the door came the voice of his steward, cautious and reverent. "Master, an urgent order has just arrived from the Palace. The situation seems dire... I had no choice but to disturb your rest."
The Grand General paused. He reached for a robe, throwing it carelessly over his shoulders as he rose. A cold smirk played on his lips. "An order from the Palace? What now—has that Prime Minister Darwin found a new way to amuse himself at my expense?"
He hesitated, his frown deepening. "...No. Even he wouldn't be bold enough to annoy me in the middle of the night."
The steward quickly added, "I am told... it is a decree issued personally by Her Majesty the Queen."
The General's movements stiffened for a fraction of a second. Then, he let out a scoff of pure disdain. He swung the bedroom door open.
"That woman?" he mused. "She hasn't issued a decent command in ten years—and now, all of a sudden, she's in a hurry?"
He strode toward the main hall, where several royal messengers were already waiting. Upon his appearance, they snapped into a salute.
"Grand General!" One stepped forward, his voice ringing through the hall. "Her Majesty decrees—Princess Lunethia has been abducted by outlaws! She is currently being held in the vicinity of Starfall Cliff."
"You are ordered to mobilize immediately, encircle the area, and commence a total search. Within seven days, the Princess must be returned to the Palace!"
The Grand General listened in silence. There was no trace of panic on his face; instead, a cryptic, unreadable smile began to form.
The messenger continued, "Furthermore—Her Majesty warns that the Princess may have been brainwashed by her captors. Nothing she says is to be trusted. Simply bring her back, and you shall be rewarded most handsomely."
With the message delivered, the guards saluted once more and beat a hasty retreat.
The grand hall fell silent once more. Only the Grand General and his steward remained.
The General walked leisurely toward a long, ornate bench and sat down. A low, cold chuckle escaped his lips. "Heh..."
The steward stepped forward, inquiring cautiously, "Master, shall I mobilize the troops immediately? I will begin the preparations at once."
The Grand General dismissed the suggestion with a lazy wave of his hand, his tone as casual as if they were discussing a trivial domestic matter. "No need."
The steward froze in surprise. "Master?"
The General leaned back against the headrest, a flicker of mockery dancing in his eyes. "Can't you see through this already?" He gave a faint, knowing smile. "More likely than not, our dear Princess has simply taken a fancy to some man. The Queen disapproved—and so, the girl ran."
He shook his head, his voice dripping with condescension. "How many times has this exact drama played out in history? Princes and princesses eloping—there's a case in every generation." He tapped rhythmically on the armrest. "And yet, look at the fuss. They're treating a lovers' quarrel like a matter of national security."
The Grand General let out a derisive snort. "...Making a mountain out of a molehill."
The steward bowed his head low, his voice oily with flattery. "I see... as expected of you, Master. You've seen through the situation in a heartbeat."
The General laughed heartily at the praise. "Does a trifle like this even require a brain to figure out?" He waved it off, then changed the subject. "By the way—my precious son, Alan. He should have arrived at the military camp by now, hasn't he?"
The steward nodded. "Calculated by the hour, the Young Master should have already reached his post."
The Grand General let out a soft sigh, his tone a mixture of regret and simmering dissatisfaction. "That boy..."
He gave a dry, mocking laugh. "When I told him to get close to the Princess back then, he acted all high-and-mighty, prattling on about not needing to 'rely on a woman' for his future. And now look—the Princess has been spirited away by some nobody who crawled out of the woodwork."
He shook his head slowly. "A perfectly good opportunity, wasted."
The Grand General narrowed his eyes, his tone becoming uncomfortably meaningful.
"Actually, it's for the best. The Princess... she isn't a child anymore. It's time she understood one thing—" A cold sneer curled his lips. "As royalty, she has no right to speak of 'love.' That is a luxury reserved solely for commoners."
He let out a low, gravelly chuckle. "Hehehe..."
At the same time.
On the other side of the Royal Capital—The Prime Minister's Estate.
The halls were brilliantly lit. Prime Minister Darwin stood by the window, a subtle smile playing on his face after hearing the messenger's report.
"Oh? The Queen has actually sent the Grand General himself to handle this?" A sharp glint of calculation flashed in his eyes. "That man, Lord Graven... I imagine he's quite unable to sit still right about now."
The Prime Minister turned slowly, his voice laced with amusement. "If the Princess truly brings back some man... his meticulously prepared marriage alliance will be utterly ruined."
A subordinate stepped forward, whispering, "My Lord, if the General successfully retrieves the Princess... should we intervene?"
Darwin gave a thin smile, composed and certain as he leisurely adjusted his cuffs. "There is no need. Have you found him yet?"
The subordinate nodded. "Yes, we have located him. However... he still refuses to accompany us back to the estate."
The Prime Minister inclined his head slightly, seemingly unsurprised. "No matter. Treat him with the utmost courtesy." He walked to the desk, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished wood. His gaze turned profound.
"As long as he is willing to appear," he said softly, "then whatever the Grand General does... will be entirely meaningless."
The Southern Border of the Moon Kingdom—A Vast Plain.
The sky hung low and oppressive. Dark clouds swirled and churned, pressing down until the very air felt stagnant. A gale swept across the grasslands, waves of tall grass rolling like a dark tide ready to swallow the world.
From the distant horizon—
A streak of azure broke through the wind, slicing through the eerie silence like a blade.
It was a young man with golden hair.
He wore an azure cloak, striding atop a sturdy brown stallion as his silhouette cut through the howling wind. It was Karl, traveling south in solitude.
Karl tilted his head slightly, glancing at the oppressive, leaden sky, and let out a wry, bitter smile. "Traveling alone... is truly a bore." He pulled his cloak tighter against the gale. "I thought the snow had finally let up—turns out it's just making room for a torrential downpour."
The words had barely left his lips when his expression shifted. His gaze sharpened instantly.
Something's wrong.
He pulled his hood lower to conceal his features while gently tightening the reins. Up ahead, a figure had appeared out of nowhere, standing motionless amidst the raging wind.
Clad in black with a deep hood, the stranger had one eye covered, while the other remained as cold and sharp as a blade. One hand rested habitually on the hilt of a sword. Though the blade remained sheathed, a palpable killing intent already lay balanced across the center of the road.
Karl brought his horse to a slow halt, the stallion treading the grass uneasily. He narrowed his eyes, his voice low and laced with caution. "Who are you?"
The man in black offered a faint, fleeting smile. It was a cold gesture, and his voice was even colder than the wind. "Your horse... is a fine animal. I'd like to borrow it."
Karl blinked, then burst into a scoffing laugh. "Highway robbery? Is that it?"
The stranger's tone remained eerily calm. "I said 'borrow.' Leave me your contact information. Once my business is concluded, I shall return it to you."
Karl threw his head back and laughed, his voice scattered by the wind. "That is—without a doubt—the most laughable robbery line I've ever heard." He looked down at the man, his eyes turning frigid. "State your name then, my 'heroic horse-borrower'."
The man in black fell silent for a beat. His voice dropped an octave. "My name... is not convenient to disclose." He pressed a finger lightly against the crossguard of his sword, his tone still terrifyingly placid. "I do not wish to use force. More importantly—I do not wish to injure the horse."
He looked up, his exposed eye glinting with a lethal light. "Do not push me."
The last trace of humor vanished from Karl's face, replaced by a razor-sharp edge. "I'm in a hurry. If you have any sense—leave now. I can pretend you were never here."
The air seemed to solidify for a heartbeat.
And then—
SHING!
A cold flash of steel erupted! The man in black drew his blade.
The flash of steel tore through the leaden sky like lightning.
"Since we're both in a hurry..." He kicked off the ground, his silhouette instantly vanishing from where he stood! "...Let's make this quick."
Before the words had fully registered—
The blade was already there! A direct thrust toward Karl's throat.
CLANG—!
Karl swept his own longsword upward, sparks exploding into the gloom. The initial strike was parried—but only for a heartbeat.
A chilling sensation surged inward! The man in black, his left hand flashing out like a venomous serpent, slid a dagger from his sleeve, aiming a vicious thrust directly under Karl's armpit.
Too close!
Karl's pupils constricted. He twisted his body violently—narrowly evading the strike in a breath-stealing turn!
Yet—it was far from over.
The man in black, as if having anticipated this exact evasion, allowed his longsword to follow the momentum of the turn!
WHOOSH—!
The blade carved through the air with wind-cleaving force, its horizontal slash coming in at a breakneck speed!
This guy—is the real deal!
Karl's heart sank. He poured all his strength into his legs, launching himself backward from the saddle in a spectacular reverse-flip.
One flip!
Another!
Utilizing the momentum to tear open the distance!
He completed two aerial rotations, landing as steady as a bedrock, his longsword already held horizontally before him. The wind howled around them.
The two were locked in a fresh stalemate.
The man in black tilted his head slightly, a flicker of genuine appreciation crossing his solitary eye. "Impressive reflexes," he noted, his tone devoid of emotion. "Now that you've witnessed the disparity—stop wasting time."
"Leave the horse." His voice was flat. "I will not kill you."
Karl slowly straightened his back, a cold sneer curling his lips.
"One eye... black clad..."
"Every strike a lethal move, a concealed blade in the left."
His gaze dropped an octave. "You are—the Hounds of the Blood Moon."
"Hunter."
The man in black paused. Then, he smiled. It was a grin that promised danger. "Young man... your eye is sharp."
He raised his sword slightly. "Since you recognize me—then you should understand even more."
"Do not block my path."
His tone suddenly turned freezing cold. "I am on a mission. Leave the horse, and you might live."
Karl gently rotated the longsword in his hand, pointing the blade toward the earth. His voice, however, was as frigid as iron.
"But you—just so happen to be blocking mine."
He raised his eyes.
Killing intent flashed through his eyes like a summer storm.
"Since you're a Hound of the Blood Moon," Karl declared, his voice dropping to a low growl, "then I definitely can't let you walk away."
Hunter let out a bone-chilling rasp of a laugh. "With just you?" He narrowed his lone eye, a glimmer of recognition surfacing. "Don't think I don't know who you are. A 'Goblin Miner'... one of the Seven."
He raised his sword with lethal deliberation. "I was going to let you live. But since you've delivered yourself to my doorstep... I'll do the Kingdom a favor and squash a meddlesome bug."
Karl's smirk didn't waver. "To think even the Chief of the Shadow Unit has heard of our names..." He flicked his wrist, the blade humming. "I'm honored."
In the next heartbeat—they moved as one!
CLANG—!
Their blades collided with a shriek of tortured metal. This time, Hunter held nothing back. His was the Assassin's Blade—fast, cruel, and unerringly precise. There was no elegance here, only the raw, jagged efficiency of a man who lived to end lives. He moved like a wraith through the gale, weaving through Karl's defenses.
Suddenly—SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!
Several concealed projectiles erupted from his sleeves. They were silent, shadow-cloaked, and aimed for vital points.
But Karl didn't give an inch. He took a heavy step forward, his stance opening wide as he unleashed the King's Blade. It was a style of absolute righteousness—massive, unyielding, and overwhelmingly powerful.
"The more underhanded you play—" Karl swung, a single arc of steel swatting the projectiles out of the air in a shower of sparks. "—the more I shall crush you with pure strength!"
BOOM—!
His sword fell like a thunderclap. The two silhouettes became a blur of motion against the desolate plains. One was a shadow—devious and lethal; the other was a mountain—brutal and grounding.
Karl lunged, his longsword tearing through the air with a shriek that sounded like the atmosphere itself was being shredded. Hunter's pupils shrank. He was forced back—one step, two steps, three!
The Chief of Shadows narrowed his eye, a rare look of genuine shock surfacing. He read me? This brat... at such a young age, he can actually keep up with my rhythm?
Karl, however, was far from comfortable. His breath was growing ragged, and a dull numbness was beginning to creep up his arms.
He was hitting his limit.
And yet, the Hunter before him... remained as persistent and inescapable as a shadow.
In the span of a few frantic exchanges, Karl's throat, heart, and even the back of his neck had danced with death. He was surviving by a hair's breadth, a mere fraction of a second away from the end.
BOOM—!
Thunder erupted with a bone-shaking roar, as if the very heavens were being torn asunder. In the next heartbeat—the deluge hit.
Rain lashed down in a vertical wall, instantly swallowing the vast plains. Vision blurred into a grey haze; the ground turned into a treacherous mire. Between the swirling storm and the strobe-like flashes of lightning, everything became chaotic and lethal.
Their silhouettes flickered in and out of existence through the curtain of rain, yet the killing intent between them only grew sharper.
In that fleeting moment—Hunter moved.
He dropped his center of gravity abruptly, his blade lunging out like a viper striking from its burrow. It was a wickedly low thrust aimed straight for Karl's ankle.
Karl's reflexes were lightning-fast. He slammed his blade downward to parry.
CLANG!
Sparks hissed and died in the downpour. Following the block, Karl lashed out with a brutal kick, a thunderous strike aimed directly at Hunter's face.
Hunter's gaze turned icy. He leaned back, his body almost skimming the mud as he slid away. With a fluid, mercury-like grace, he flipped and landed in a half-kneeling stance.
This is it!
Karl seized the opening. He lunged forward, his blade carving through the rain in a vertical executioner's strike. "Take this—!"
But suddenly—his footing vanished.
SQUELCH!
His lead foot skidded violently. His center of gravity collapsed in an instant, sending a spray of muddy water into the air.
A trap!
Under the shroud of the torrential rain, the earth had been surreptitiously carved away. In that split second when Hunter had ducked low, he hadn't just been dodging—he had been setting the stage for this very moment.
"Too naive," Hunter muttered, his lips curling into a cruel sliver of a smile. He was already inside Karl's guard.
BAM—!
A fist like a sledgehammer slammed into Karl's solar plexus.
"Ugh—!" Karl's body doubled over instantly, his breath completely hitching in his throat. Before he could even recover—
CRACK!
A heavy boot connected with his jaw. The force sent him spiraling backward, crashing hard into the sodden earth.
Mud and rainwater splashed everywhere. Karl lay in the dirt, his breathing ragged and broken. His sword had spun out of reach, and his body refused to respond to his frantic commands.
Hunter rose slowly, retrieving his longsword. He walked forward, step by measured step, the rainwater sliding down the length of his steel.
He leaned down and pressed the cold edge of the blade against the side of Karl's neck.
His voice was low, a jagged edge of ice.
"Foolish brat. You have talent..." Hunter looked down at Karl, his gaze devoid of any warmth. "A pity—you're just too green."
Lightning tore across the sky, a blinding white flash momentarily illuminating the world. It cast a stark light on Karl's broken silhouette as he lay collapsed in the mud.
In that exact microsecond—something shifted.
Karl's body began to emit a faint, ethereal glow. It wasn't the harsh glare of lightning, nor did it feel human. It felt as though an ancient "presence" was being forcibly stirred from its slumber.
In the next heartbeat—a translucent figure began to rise slowly from within him. It looked like starlight condensed into a human form, a soul shedding its mortal shell.
And then—SWISH!
The shadow transformed into a streak of pure radiance, plunging instantly into Hunter's chest!
"!!!"
Hunter's eyes snapped wide, his pupils constricting violently. His entire body seized up, frozen as if struck by a divine bolt of lightning.
"This... what is—?!" For the first time, his voice lost its clinical calm.
The very next second, his hands moved. But they were no longer guided by his own will. His arms rose slowly, his grip tightening around the hilt of his own longsword. Then—without a shred of hesitation—he turned the blade.
He aimed it directly at his own abdomen.
PLUCK—!
The steel sank deep into his flesh. Crimson blood sprayed out, blooming in the relentless rain like a grotesque, scarlet flower.
The translucent light flickered once in the downpour before tearing itself away from Hunter's body. Like a falling star returning to its origin, it streaked back and vanished into Karl.
Silence reclaimed the plains, save for the rhythmic drumming of the storm.
Drip... drip...
Hunter fell to one knee, his sword still buried deep in his gut. Blood ran down the length of the blade, staining the mud a dark, muddy red. His hand trembled as he pointed a finger at Karl, his voice broken and raspy.
"You... you..."
Karl pushed himself up from the mire, using his sword as a crutch. With his free hand, he wiped the blood from his lips and stood tall, his gaze burning with a fierce, inner fire.
"My name is—Karl Lucian."
Amidst the raging wind and rain, the name fell like a divine proclamation.
Hunter's pupils shuddered. A low, bitter laugh escaped his throat as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"I should have known..." he wheezed, a tragic smile touching his lips. "The 'Astral Body' of the House of Lucian..."
Karl's eyes turned glacial.
"Answer me," he said, his voice low but carrying a sharp, inescapable edge. "That year... the one who slaughtered the Royal Family of the Kingdom of Stellara—was it you?"
The sound of the rain seemed to grow heavier at that moment, drumming against the earth. Hunter lowered his head. Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic dripping of blood from the blade.
Then—he looked up.
He burst into a fit of wild, raucous laughter. The sound was jarringly harsh against the wind and rain, filled with a twisted, manic pride.
"Yes! It was me!" Hunter's eyes were bloodshot and frenzied. "The Stellar Sovereign was gravely wounded by my hand and dragged back to the Kingdom to be imprisoned! The Royals—aside from the Queen and two princes—all thirty of them! I cut their throats myself!"
He wheezed, his grin growing more grotesque. "The Astral Body of the Lucians... truly terrifying. But as long as one prepares in advance, it is not an invincible foe!"
Karl's gaze became utterly void of warmth, like frost creeping over the dead earth. He slowly raised his sword, the tip leveled at Hunter's throat.
"Very well," Karl said evenly. "Then today, your life ends here. Any last words?"
Hunter looked down, his hands death-gripped around the hilt of the sword buried in his abdomen. Blood continued to flow, staining the mud beneath him, yet he stopped struggling.
He lifted his head slowly. The familiar cold sneer remained on his lips, but his voice was raspy—heavy with an indescribable exhaustion.
"Heh... thirty years." Hunter murmured. "Thirty years I've hidden in the shadows for the Kingdom of Lunaris, licking blood off my blade... doing every foul, lightless deed required of the throne."
He gave a thin smile, though it looked more painful than weeping. "I thought... that dying by a rival's blade would be a death without regrets. I didn't expect..." He glanced down at the sword impaling him. His voice turned hoarse. "That I would die... so pathetically."
Karl remained silent. The sword in his hand trembled ever so slightly. The rainwater slid down the length of the steel, as if in response to the crushing weight of the moment.
In the next instant—Hunter threw his head back.
"OH GOD—!!!"
He roared at the sky, his voice tearing through the curtain of rain. Tears mingled with the downpour, streaming down his weathered face.
"Why are You so cruel?! A pretender on the throne—that is the rot within!! The remnants of the fallen kingdom still linger—that is the threat without!!"
His voice shook, teetering on the edge of total collapse. "I swore my life to the Lunar Monarch! And yet, I must die at a time like this?! WHY—!!!"
His voice gradually grew hoarse, until the ferocity vanished, leaving behind nothing but a sob that sounded almost like a broken child.
The echo of the roar lingered in the rain. Karl bit his lower lip, his grip on the sword hilt tightening until his knuckles went white—then slowly, he forced his fingers to relax.
A long silence passed. Finally, he drew a deep, steadying breath. His voice was low, anchored by an unshakable resolve.
"On the day of the Winter Moon Festival—I will enter the Royal Capital myself." He looked toward the horizon, his gaze piercing through the veil of the storm. "I will tear away the mask of the Pretender Queen and expose the truth."
Hunter's body jolted. He froze, his expression dazed as if he couldn't grasp the weight of the words he had just heard. "You... you say...?"
Before he could finish—
Karl lashed out with a heavy, driving kick directly to Hunter's temple!
THUD!
The dull impact echoed. Hunter's world went black instantly; his consciousness snapped like a severed thread as he collapsed silently into the mud. The sound of the rain swallowed everything.
Karl stood over him, his chest heaving slightly. He stepped forward and looked down at the fallen man with a complex, unreadable gaze. Eventually, he knelt, his hands steady as he gripped the hilt of the longsword impaling the assassin's abdomen and slowly drew it out.
The blood dispersed into the rushing rivulets of rainwater.
Karl pulled a medicinal pouch from his tunic. His movements were practiced and silent as he began the grim task of stanching the bleeding and bandaging the wound. Not a single word was wasted. When he was finished, he hoisted the unconscious Hunter up and secured him onto the back of his horse.
It was as if he were merely managing a "variable" that had to be kept on the board.
A short while later.
In front of a solitary farmhouse on the edge of the plains.
"I have a friend who is injured," Karl said, his voice deep as he helped the body down from the saddle. "I require your family to look after him."
The farmer gasped, rushing forward to help support the weight. His face was etched with worry. "He's wounded so gravely... surely we should take him to a physician in the city!"
Karl shook his head and handed over a small satchel of herbs along with a heavy bag of coins.
"I have already treated the wound," he stated calmly, his tone as detached as if he were discussing a matter that had nothing to do with him. "Every morning, feed him one packet of these herbs. Within ten days—he will wake."
He paused for a heartbeat, then added a chilling final instruction:
"If he does not wake... find a patch of earth and bury him."
The farmer and his family exchanged uneasy glances, but in the face of Karl's cold intensity, they dared not ask another word.
By the time the family looked up again—Karl had already turned away.
His azure cloak fell back into place, concealing his silhouette as he retreated into the gloom. He did not look back.
The wind subsided for a fleeting moment, but the rain refused to relent.
Night began to drown the plains, inch by inch, until heaven and earth merged into an infinite, suffocating black. Only the rhythmic splashing of hooves against the sodden earth echoed through the stillness.
Karl rode alone through the mire. His cloak was long since soaked through, clinging heavily to his frame. He kept his head lowered, his lips moving in a low murmur. He sounded as if he were talking to himself—or perhaps, passing judgment upon his own soul.
"Right now..." His voice was frayed, torn apart by the patter of the rain. "I am only Karl, the Goblin Miner."
A brief, heavy silence followed. When he spoke again, his voice was even softer—fragile. "I am not Karl of the House of Lucian..."
The words felt like a denial. Or perhaps... an escape.
He gripped the reins until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. "I spared his life... only for the Winter Moon Festival. That is all."
He told himself this. Once. Twice. Over and over again. Yet the suffocating tightness in his chest refused to dissipate. Rainwater slid down his cheeks, cold and relentless—though at that moment, it was impossible to tell if it was merely the rain.
"Father..."
"Mother..."
The words were so faint they barely existed. He spoke as if he were afraid of being overheard—or perhaps, even more afraid of receiving an answer.
"I'm sorry..."
The wind swept across the vast grasslands, but there was no reply. Only the occasional flash of lightning tore through the night, momentarily illuminating the path ahead.
It was a long, muddy road with no visible end. Karl did not stop. He continued his journey south—toward the place where all fates were destined to collide.