"Hey! Hein! Wake up!"
The voice sounded faint, as if coming from behind a thick wall of water. Hein's vision was blurred, and his head throbbed violently.
"D-Dad?" he murmured weakly.
"Run! Run, quickly!" Hein's father gripped his shoulders tightly, the jolting force snapping Hein's consciousness back to a horrific reality.
Around him, the usually peaceful village had transformed into a sea of panic. People were sprinting, clutching their valuables with faces pale as death. However, what made Hein's blood freeze was the dark shadows in the distance. The Tourtus were closing in with impossible speed.
"Father? What about you?" Hein asked, his voice trembling. His body felt weak, as if his bones had turned to water.
"I will hold them back!" His father unsheathed his sword, standing tall with his back to his son. "Run as far as you can, Hein! Do not look back!"
Without a second thought, Hein spun around. He ran into the pitch-black darkness of the forest without a clear destination. Behind him, a hoarse scream tore through the silence of the night.
"Haaaa! Die, you demons!"
The sound shattered Hein's courage. He kept running, but the image of his mother—still left behind at the house—suddenly flashed through his mind. His pace slowed, then stopped entirely. Hein fell to his knees, clutching his head with all his might, trying to banish the agonizing memory.
He broke down in tears amidst the silence of the forest. Empty. Lonely. An overwhelming terror squeezed his chest until he could barely breathe.
However, his father's final message echoed in his head. Keep running. With what little strength he had left, Hein stood up. He forced his trembling legs to push through the thorny brambles until he reached the edge of the forest.
"That's the village! Fast!"
Hihgg...
The shouts of cavalrymen and the neighing of horses echoed from a distance, moving in the opposite direction of his flight. A thin sliver of hope emerged, but Hein's body had reached its limit.
Grrrd... Grrrd...
The growling of his stomach felt painful. Extreme hunger and exhaustion attacked his broken psyche all at once. Hein clutched his stomach, his vision darkening. The world around him slowly faded until finally, his eyes closed, and he collapsed onto the cold earth.
"Hein... Hein, wake up!"
The voice was muffled, sounding almost as if it were underwater. Slowly, Hein's memories reassembled themselves like a neatly arranged puzzle.
"F-Father?" Hein muttered. His father's face flickered in his mind.
"Wake up, boy!" The voice grew more urgent.
Hein woke up to find his body covered in dirt. He slowly sat up and dragged himself toward a nearby tree, leaning his back against its trunk.
"Hey, kid! Are you conscious?" someone whispered, a hand resting gently on Hein's shoulder.
Hein slowly raised his head, opening his eyes to see who was before him.
"Hey, kid. How did you end up here?" the man asked in confusion, noting Hein's injuries. "Are you a child from that village?"
The man seemed skeptical, seeing that Hein had escaped with only minor wounds. Hein, looking at the man in confusion, began to scan his surroundings.
"Where am I?" Hein asked, his legs slowly pushing his body up.
"Calm down, you're safe now," the man whispered, helping Hein stand and guiding him out of the woods. "You seem a bit hurt. Come with me to get some treatment."
The man led Hein to his home. Upon arriving, he gently laid Hein down on a bed and stepped out of the room.
"I'll be going for a moment. Rest here for now," the man murmured as he walked away.
The room suddenly felt silent, yet there was a sense of peace within it. Hein relaxed his body, slowly closing his eyes.
Hirmmm...
A sound accompanied by a glowing green light flared.
"Hah!"
Hein startled awake, sitting bolt upright and glancing left and right. When he looked to his right, he saw the man had returned and was holding his hand.
"Why are you awake, boy?" the man asked. "Did my magic startle you? Hah?" he chuckled.
After treating Hein, the man stood up and walked out of the room again, leaving it in silence once more.
"Huff... Now that the old man is gone, it's quiet again," Hein sighed, his thoughts drifting back to his village.
Not long after, the door creaked open. The old man returned carrying a wooden tray with four pieces of bread and a glass of milk. He stepped inside and handed the food to Hein.
Without a word or a second thought, Hein grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it into his mouth. He was so famished he ate at a frantic pace.
"Hmphm... This bread is delicious, Grandpa!" Hein mumbled, his mouth still full.
"Ha ha ha, I'm glad you like it, bo—"
Knock... Knock... Knock...
"Wait a moment, kid."
The sound of someone knocking on the wooden door caused the old man to stand and head toward the front of the house. When he returned, he wasn't alone. Hein noticed the sound of multiple footsteps—heavy, metallic footsteps.
Why do they sound so heavy? Hein wondered.
The door opened, and the old man entered followed by three armored soldiers.
"Hein... your name is Hein, right?" one of the soldiers asked tensely. "There is someone you need to see."
After finishing the bread, Hein was taken by the old man and the soldiers to a place that looked foreign to him.
It was a refugee camp. There, Hein saw earth stained a dark, reddish-black along the path. He was led to a tent that seemed quiet. But when the soldier told him to enter, he saw a woman lying there, utterly powerless.
"I-It can't be," Hein whispered in disbelief, his body shaking.
His legs gave out. He sank to his knees. "M-Mother? Mother?"
Hein's mother turned her head slowly toward her son. "Stay alive," she whispered. With a faint smile, her body grew cold.
A soldier pulled the blanket over her face and carried her toward a burial site, with little Hein following closely behind. As the burial took place, Hein's composure broke. The old man approached him.
"You are safe now. No one will hurt you anymore," the old man said, patting Hein's shoulder gently. "I will take care of you, my boy."
Hein's sobbing paused for a moment. He looked at the old man and hugged him tightly, his tears flowing once more.
"It's okay... I will protect you with my life," the old man whispered.
Slowly, the shadows of Hein's past were covered by a thick fog, until only the echoes of that night remained—the flames consuming houses, the piercing screams, and his father's final whisper.
Eventually, those memories faded, replaced by the bustling noise of a city...
Nine Years Later
The hands that were once small and trembling were now rough and calloused from years of gripping a sword hilt. An adult Hein stood in the middle of a crowded city, the scarf his mother made fluttering in the wind.
He carried his father's sword on his back and wore a key necklace given to him by the old man.
Hein began walking toward the city gates, his resolve set on a journey to the east. As the gates creaked open, he stepped out with unwavering determination.
I will reach the land of Jourtun... I swear it! Hein thought, his fist clenching tight as he stared toward the eastern horizon.