Rajal Royal Calendar, 5006. Summer.
For many people, today was nothing more than an ordinary day. But for Jayne, it was anything but.
Jayne woke before dawn.
He lay in bed, staring at the familiar crack in the ceiling and listening to the insects chirping outside the window. Today was a special day: his fifteenth birthday, and also his last day in this village.
Jayne climbed out of bed, slipped on his outer clothes, and gently pushed open the door. From the room at the end of the hall came the low rumble of Uncle Reese's snores. Rhea's door next door was tightly shut, and the house was quiet.
He didn't want to wake anyone.
Fran Village was shrouded in a thin layer of mist that early morning. Wooden houses stood in orderly disarray along the stone-paved roads, their chimneys not yet smoking. The entire village seemed to be asleep.
The distant wheat fields shimmered with a faint golden hue in the morning light. A few early-rising birds perched on the fences, tilting their heads as they examined the boy who had gone out before dawn.
Jayne crossed the village and followed a moss-covered path to the cemetery on its outskirts.
It wasn't large. A few dozen gravestones stood quietly within the low walls, surrounded by neatly trimmed grass. Jayne walked to the gravestone nearest the old oak tree and crouched down.
There wasn't much engraved on it—only a name and two dates.
“Morning, Dad.”
Jayne's voice was soft.
“I'm fifteen today. I'm an adult now.”
He reached out and brushed several fallen leaves from the gravestone, moving as naturally as if he had done it countless times before.
“I told Uncle Reese that once I became an adult, I would leave the village and go chase my dreams.”
The wind passed through the oak's branches, making them rustle.
“I want to make my dream come true and join the Order of Holy Knights.”
As he said those words, Jayne's eyes brightened with the purity and determination unique to a boy his age.
“Don't worry. Uncle Reese and Rhea are both doing great. They've taken really good care of me.” He paused, then gave an embarrassed smile. “Rhea will probably cry again... Even though she always says she won't, she ends up crying harder than anyone.”
Jayne sat quietly before the grave for a while.
The morning breeze brushed through his silver-gray hair. In the distance, the sky gradually turned orange-red beneath the rising sun. He closed his eyes, and a memory from long ago surfaced in his mind.
Jayne had been about three or four years old then.
He couldn't remember why he had run into the forest. Maybe he had been chasing a butterfly. Maybe it had simply been curiosity. Either way, by the time he realized what had happened, he was surrounded by towering trees. The dense canopy blocked out the sunlight, leaving only a few thin rays struggling to break through.
Little Jayne stood in place, not knowing which way to go.
Then he heard the sound.
A deep roar, as though it had come from beneath the earth.
The bushes shook violently, and a massive monster burst from the shadows. It was several times larger than the biggest cow in the village, its body covered in dark purple scales. Viscous liquid dripped from its mouth, and its blood-red eyes locked onto Jayne.
Jayne was too frightened to move.
His legs felt nailed to the ground, and his mind went completely blank. The monster advanced on him, each step making the earth tremble faintly.
At that very moment,
a dazzling light split open the darkness of the forest.
“BOOM!”
A thunderous explosion erupted. A bolt of lightning struck the monster squarely in the side, blasting it through the air. The monster let out a pained roar and rolled across the ground several times before climbing back to its feet. Furious, it roared toward the direction from which the lightning had come.
A figure walked out of the light.
His silhouette was blurred by the backlight. Jayne couldn't make out his face clearly; all he could see was the long sword in his hand, its blade wrapped in dancing arcs of electricity.
The man said nothing. He simply raised his sword toward the monster.
The monster charged again, faster than before, driven mad by rage.
But the man was faster.
His figure flashed, moving as though he had teleported. The next second, he was already directly above the monster. Lightning surged along his blade, illuminating the entire forest.
The man needed only one strike.
Amid deafening thunder, a blade of light crashed down from above, cleaving the monster in two. A deep crack split the ground, and blackened marks spread out in both directions.
The monster collapsed without even having time to cry out.
Little Jayne sat on the ground and looked up at the man. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, and he was too stunned by the sight before him to speak.
Amazing.
That was the only thought in his mind.
The man sheathed his sword and turned toward Jayne. He crouched down, reached out, and gently patted Jayne's head.
“You okay, kid?”
His voice was gentle, completely different from the figure who had just swung his sword and slain a monster.
“Who are you?” Little Jayne asked, looking up at him.
The man seemed to smile. Jayne couldn't see his expression clearly in the backlight, but he could feel the warmth in it.
“Just call me Arthur.”
Afterward, Jayne was safely escorted back to the village. From the adults there, he learned a few things. The man belonged to an organization called the Order of Holy Knights, and Arthur was the title granted only to the strongest person in the Order of Holy Knights.
From that day on, a seed was planted in Jayne's heart.
He wanted to join the Order of Holy Knights and become as powerful as Arthur.
Jayne opened his eyes and returned to reality.
It was already light out. Warm morning sunlight bathed the cemetery. He stood, brushed the bits of grass from his pants, and took one last look at his father's gravestone.
“I'm heading out, Dad. Please watch over me.”
He turned and followed the path back toward the village.
Near the village entrance, Jayne noticed two unfamiliar figures standing on the road ahead.
Visitors from outside were uncommon in this remote little village, so Jayne took a few extra glances.
Walking in front was a woman with a long ponytail that reached her waist. A long sword hung at her hip, and her stride was steady and efficient. Her face showed little expression as her cold gaze swept across the surroundings, as though she were observing something.
Following behind her was a boy who looked about Jayne's age. He kept his head lowered and quietly followed the woman ahead of him, barely making his presence known.
The woman seemed to notice Jayne. She stopped and turned to look at him.
“Are you a resident of this village?”
Without any unnecessary greeting, the woman simply gave Jayne a cold once-over.
“Uh, yeah.” Jayne nodded. “Are you travelers? Outsiders don't come to this village very often...”
“Are there any ruins around here?”
The woman cut him off and got straight to the point.
“Ruins...?”
Jayne froze for a moment, then raised a hand and pointed toward the nearby hill.
“I don't know what kind of ruins you're looking for, but there's an altar up on that mountain. It's where our village worships the fire spirit Salamander. You can get there by following that path.”
“Thanks.”
After uttering those two brief words, she turned and walked away. The silent boy followed in her footsteps.
“Silver-gray hair...?”
Jayne thought he heard the woman mutter those words under her breath, though he might have been mistaken.
He stood there, watching their backs gradually disappear into the distance.
“...She's not exactly approachable.”
Jayne shook his head, didn't think much more of it, and turned toward home.
Before he reached the door, Jayne caught a familiar scent.
The smell of toasted bread, mixed with the aroma of fried eggs and bacon, drifted out from inside. His stomach immediately let out an unhelpful growl.
“I'm home.”
Jayne pushed open the door. A pair of slippers sat neatly in the entryway, and a lavish breakfast had already been laid out on the living room table.
“Welcome back.”
Rhea poked her head out of the kitchen, still holding a spatula. Her smooth chestnut hair fell down her back, and she wore a pale blue apron. A gentle smile warmed her face.
“You went to the cemetery again?”
“Yeah.” Jayne nodded and sat down at the table.
“Running off first thing in the morning without saying a word.” Rhea brought the final dish to the table and sat across from Jayne. “I thought you'd snuck off without telling us.”
“As if. Leaving without eating the breakfast you made would be such a waste.”
“All you ever think about is eating.” Rhea laughed and shook her head, though a hint of barely noticeable tenderness showed in her eyes.
Reese, seated at the corner of the table, lowered the newspaper in his hands and looked up at Jayne.
“Happy birthday, Jayne.” Reese's tone was casual, as though he were commenting on the weather.
“Thanks, Uncle.”
“You're an adult now. Stop calling me Uncle and call me Village Chief.”
“No way.”
Reese burst out laughing, his voice echoing through the house. Rhea sighed helplessly, though the corners of her mouth still curved upward.
The three of them sat around the table and enjoyed a warm breakfast.
Sunlight streamed through the windows and fell across the bread and jam on the table. Everything seemed so peaceful and beautiful. As Jayne ate the fried eggs Rhea had made, he looked at the two people before him, warmth swelling in his chest.
They might not share any blood, but this was his home.
Jayne's father had left his hometown for some reason when Jayne was very young, entrusting the child to his closest and most trusted friend, Reese. Jayne had been too young to understand why his father had to leave. All he knew was that one day he woke up, and his father was gone.
Reese told him that Dad had something very important to do and would be back soon.
But that “soon” became several years.
And after those several years, what arrived was not his father's return, but cruel news.
Jayne's father was dead.
No one told Jayne exactly what had happened. They only told him that his father had died. Reese's expression had grown heavy that day, and he had pulled Jayne into his arms.
“Jayne, your uncle will take good care of you.”
Those days were black and white for Jayne.
He shut himself in his room. He didn't eat, speak, or go outside.
Rhea noticed how depressed Jayne was and began staying by his side.
On the first day, she carried a plate of food to his door and knocked. Jayne didn't open it, so she left the food outside and walked away.
On the second day, she brought a storybook and sat outside the door, reading it aloud to Jayne. He didn't respond, but she read from beginning to end anyway.
The third day, the fourth day, the fifth day...
Rhea came every day. Sometimes she brought food. Sometimes she brought a storybook. Sometimes she brought nothing at all and simply sat outside the door, telling Jayne what had happened in the village that day: whose chicken had run away, whose child had fallen into a ditch, how the old man at the bakery had burned another batch of bread.
They were all boring little things.
But at some point, Jayne realized that he had begun unconsciously leaning against the door to listen to Rhea speak.
Later, he opened the door.
When Rhea saw him, her eyes reddened, but she held back her tears. She simply reached out and gently took Jayne's hand.
“Welcome back.”
Just a few simple words.
But to Jayne, they were the starting point of his new beginning.
From then on, Rhea became Jayne's “big sister.” They weren't related by blood, but their bond was incredibly strong.
After breakfast, Jayne returned to his room and slung the luggage he had packed long ago over his back.
It was a small backpack containing a change of clothes, some dried food, a canteen, and a small pouch of travel money Reese had forced on him. It wasn't much, but it was enough for a boy who had just come of age.
When Jayne reached the door, Rhea and Reese were already waiting for him there.
“Got everything?” Reese leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded.
“Yep.”
“Have enough money?”
“More than enough. You gave me too much, Uncle.”
“That was your father's. It was supposed to go to you.” Reese's tone was flat, but Jayne noticed that his gaze was more serious than usual. “Be careful on the road. Don't try to be a hero. If you run into danger, run. There's no shame in it.”
“Got it.”
Jayne turned toward Rhea.
She stood there with her hands clasped in front of her, lips pressed together. Her eyes were already a little red, but she was trying hard to keep smiling.
“Big sis, didn't you say you weren't going to cry?”
“I am not crying!” Rhea turned her head away and quickly wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “It's just... the wind is really strong, and I got sand in my eye.”
“There isn't much wind today.”
“Oh, shut up!”
Jayne laughed.
Rhea took a deep breath, turned back to him, and said seriously,
“Make sure you eat properly. Don't be picky. Put on more clothes when it gets cold. Go see a doctor if you're hurt—don't try to tough it out. And...”
“And remember, Fran Village will always be your home. If you ever miss it, you can come back anytime.”
Her voice trembled slightly at the end.
Jayne looked at Rhea, unsure how to respond. He wanted to say something, but before he could open his mouth—
“BOOM!!”
A tremendous explosion tore through the morning's silence.
The entire house shook. The glass in the windows rattled harshly, and screams and barking erupted outside in a chaotic chorus.
“What happened?”
Jayne whipped around and looked out the window.
A thick column of black smoke rose from the direction of the village, while the acrid smell of something scorched quickly spread through the air.
Reese's expression changed instantly. The lazy look he had worn moments ago vanished, replaced by a sharp and solemn gaze.
“You two stay here. I'm going to take a look.”
He snatched up the coat by the door and charged outside.
“Uncle!”
There was no way Jayne could stay put. He immediately chased after Reese, and after hesitating for a second, Rhea ran out as well.
The three of them ran toward the rising black smoke.
Along the way, villagers poured out of their homes, terror and confusion on their faces. Some carried their children and fled in the opposite direction. Others stood helplessly in place. Fran Village, usually so peaceful and serene, had fallen into chaos.
When Jayne reached the scene, what he saw froze him in place.
Several houses near the village square had been half-destroyed. Rubble and wood littered the ground, flames danced among the ruins, and several deep slash marks scarred the earth as though it had been cut by enormous blades.
At the center of the wreckage, two familiar figures were fighting.
They were the two people Jayne had encountered that morning.
The ponytailed woman had drawn the long sword at her hip. Its blade flashed fiercely through the air, every strike carrying astonishing force. Behind her, the silent boy stood with both hands extended, faint light glowing in his palms. It was the light of magic.
Jayne looked toward the other side of the battlefield and froze.
About ten people stood there. Their clothing was uniform and orderly, and their movements were highly trained. Several held weapons, while different-colored magical lights flickered in the hands of the others.
But what truly held Jayne's gaze was the pattern on their clothes.
Embroidered across their chests and sleeves was a crest more familiar to him than anything else.
It was the symbol he had admired since childhood. The emblem of the organization he dreamed of joining. The crest of the Order of Holy Knights, the nation's strongest military force and a symbol of glory and justice.
Jayne's mind went blank.
He didn't understand.
Why was the Order of Holy Knights here? Why were they fighting? Why...
His gaze swept over the devastation in the square: the destroyed houses, the scattered debris, and several injured villagers lying on the ground, groaning in pain.
Had all of this been caused by the Order of Holy Knights?
The organization he had admired since childhood, the embodiment of his nation's glory, was now destroying his hometown without the slightest hesitation.
Jayne's hands clenched into fists before he even realized it, his fingernails digging deep into his palms.
He stood there, watching the people with that crest embroidered on their chests swing weapons and unleash magic, tearing Fran Village apart piece by piece.
“Why... why is this happening...”