Shizui's earliest memories were fragments, like the scattered pieces of a forgotten dream. He could remember the warmth of his mother's voice as she told him stories of distant lands, of heroes and warriors who had fought in battles that shaped the world. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember his father's face.
He had never asked his mother about him—not directly, at least. Her eyes always darkened whenever his father's name was mentioned, and that alone was enough for Shizui to keep his questions to himself. There was a certain reverence in her tone when she spoke of him, mixed with sorrow, as if the mere mention of his name could bring pain. And so, Shizui grew up with only one side of the story: his mother's.
She was the heart of his world, a strong, kind woman who had raised him alone. The village, nestled on the border of Dragon's Dogma, was small, quiet, and peaceful. It was not one of the grand kingdoms of the Dragon Realm, but it was home. The surrounding forests stretched endlessly into the horizon, and Shizui spent much of his childhood playing among the trees, learning the ways of the woods from his mother. She taught him the art of lumberjacking, how to wield an axe and carve wood, skills he would later use to provide for the woman he loved.
Diana.
Shizui met her when they were both still children, but it wasn't until they were older that his feelings for her deepened. Diana was everything Shizui had ever dreamed of—a beautiful girl with long, straight black hair that cascaded down to her shoulders, green eyes that sparkled with life, and a smile that could light up the darkest of days. Her figure was graceful, her silhouette as delicate as the wildflowers that grew near the village. She was the joy that brightened his world, the one person who made everything worth fighting for.
But it wasn't just love that had shaped Shizui's life. It was the absence of his father—the mysterious man who had fought in the Great War but was never spoken of again. His mother, despite her love for him, never explained the truth. Instead, she would occasionally murmur strange things in her sleep, words that Shizui could never fully understand.
The night she died, when Shizui was only sixteen, he stayed by her side, holding her hand as she slipped away. Her illness had taken its toll on her, but it wasn't just the disease that made Shizui uneasy. There was something else—something in the way the black mark had appeared on her neck in the final days of her life, a mark that seemed unnatural, almost… cursed. It was as though the illness wasn't of this world.
"...Have special blood within me," she had whispered to him before her passing, her voice weak but urgent. Shizui hadn't quite understood if she was referring to him or herself, the words barely audible. "You must always remember that."
Shizui never fully understood what she meant. The words lingered with him, heavy in his heart, but without any explanation, they felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. It was one of the few things she left him with—aside from a heart full of love, a knowledge of the woods, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility.
The days that followed were a blur of grief and determination. Shizui threw himself into his work, spending long hours in the forest as a lumberjack, cutting trees to provide for the village and for Diana, who had become his fiancée shortly before his mother's death. Diana had tried to console him, but the burden of responsibility weighed heavily on Shizui's young shoulders. He worked tirelessly, keeping the village running, all the while carrying the secret of his mother's last words and the mystery of his father's identity.
Then, when Shizui turned eighteen, everything changed. The kingdom of Dragon's Dogma, despite its peaceful borderlands, was drawn into a war with the underworld. The forces of darkness had begun to stir, and the kingdom called upon its people to fight. Shizui was among those summoned to battle.
Diana was against it, of course. She begged him to stay, her green eyes filled with fear and sadness. But Shizui knew his duty. His mother had taught him that much—that the protection of those you love was the most important thing in this world. And the village he had grown up in, the people he had come to care for, depended on him. He couldn't refuse.
Before he left, Diana kissed him, her tears falling like rain. "Come back to me," she whispered. "Please."
Shizui nodded, but deep down, he feared he might never return. The war was a distant but growing threat, and he had no idea what awaited him in the battlefields of the underworld. But something told him that his journey had only just begun—that the answers he sought lay not just in the war, but in the blood that ran through his veins.
The only clue he had about his father's identity came from his mother's cryptic words, spoken in her sleep the night before she passed. "Maja liuboŭ kniaź ciemry i smutku, voin padziemnaha svietu."
Shizui had never understood those words, but they had stuck with him like a haunting melody. "My love, the prince of darkness and sorrow, warrior of the underworld."
For some reason, he understood those words. They spoke to something deep within him, a connection to a past he didn't know. And perhaps, just perhaps, the war would bring him the answers he so desperately needed. Could his father be the prince of darkness and sorrow? Could his bloodline be tied to the very forces he was about to face?
As he left the village, his heart heavy with the weight of his destiny, Shizui couldn't shake the feeling that the war was only the beginning of a much larger story. One that would not only reveal the truth about his father but also uncover the secrets of the blood that ran through him—the blood that his mother had warned him was special.
And in the heart of the underworld, Shizui would discover not just the fate of his father, but the fate of the world itself.