A/N: From now onward, I shall aim for simplicity and let my fingers and heart write, rather than be swayed by the imperfections pointed out by the editing software I use, whether as extensions or as a literally coded app.
***
ROAR
A deafening roar of an Overlord-class Tacet Discord—Feilian Beringal—split the silence, startling the common faunas and avian.
The sound shook the massive Banyan Tree that loomed over the dimly lit forest. All around, lesser Tacet Discords shrank back—not in fear of the Beringal, but of the one defeating it.
A man around his thirties stood amidst the chaos, a Broadblade crackling with lightning in his grip. He swung it in a wide arc as the Feilian Beringal tried to flee.
But—swoosh—an arrow shot through the air, faster than the eye could follow. It pierced the Overlord's neck cleanly, severing head from body in one flawless strike.
The Broadblade-wielding man turned toward the source of the arrow.
There, half-shrouded among the twisted roots and shadows, stood a man in his late twenties—jet-black hair, pale yellow eyes like fading stars. It was Da Lian.
Lian's gaze settled on the white-haired man. He looked less like a human and more like some forged hybrid of man and Tacet Discord.
Snow-white hair fell down his back like a river of winter, and piercing blue eyes shimmered with silent warning.
'Interesting,' Lian thought, stepping forward.
But before a word could leave his lips, the white-haired man blocked his path—clearly mistaking him for a rival hunter come to claim the bounty: the lifeless body of the Feilian Beringal.
"Halt!" The man warned.
Lian didn't yet know his name, but this was Calcharo—leader of the feared Ghost Hounds mercenaries.
His lightning-forged sword hummed with power. Distant thunder rolled overhead like a slow-building promise of devastation.
Lian stopped, his eyes flicking between the corpse and the man. "Did you take the commission too?"
Calcharo gave a short nod. Lian exhaled, his tone flat. "Then this... is a problem."
Living among humans had taught Lian one hard truth: Money mattered.
And right now, he needed that bounty. Without a word, he summoned his bow—towering nearly as tall as himself, nearly six-foot-two.
Resonance surged through his body like a tide breaking its dam, and the forest felt it. He drew the bowstring, and released it.
THWANG.
It wasn't an arrow—it was a declaration.
Calcharo's eyes sharpened. In that breath, he activated Overclock Mode. Muscles tightened. Veins surged. Every nerve lit like a storm circuit.
'This man…' Calcharo thought, 'isn't so simple.'
No matter how injured the Feilian Beringal had been, no ordinary Resonator could sever its head with such ease. Calcharo would need to tread carefully—
Whistle—
He tilted his head just in time. An arrow tore past his face, close enough to sting his skin, and drilled a hole through the ancient bark of the Giant Banyan Tree behind him.
A cold sweat beaded down his back. But there was no time to react. Another arrow came. Then another. And another—
Each faster. Each truer. Each impossible.
Calcharo moved like lightning incarnate, dodging and weaving with supernatural grace. Yet Lian's aim never faltered—each shot honed like a predator's fangs.
Still, Calcharo's reflexes held. He closed the distance, weaving between arrows with inhuman precision.
"I got you!" he roared.
But Lian was already moving.
In one fluid motion, he turned the bowstring toward Calcharo. The string snapped under Calcharo's blade—but it wasn't a retreat. It was simply an alteration of held weapon.
Tension released—snap—and the bow reshaped itself, straightening into a sleek staff. Winds howled as Resonance flooded the air, kicking up a storm of dust and leaves.
Despite its wooden form, the staff struck like tempered steel—perhaps coated, or even forged, in Resonance itself.
Now it was melee.
THWANG. THUNG. THWANG.
Steel and wood clashed in brutal proximity. Neither gave an inch. Neither risked wide swings—too dangerous at this range. A single lapse in timing, and it would be over.
Speed was their language. Precision, their law.
But soon, the cracks began to show. Calcharo's grip began to falter. His sword felt heavier. His right hand, numb. Across from him, Lian hadn't even broken rhythm.
With a calm, almost amused breath, he said: "I can do this all day."
An offer was laid before Calcharo—a chance to back down. Lian's voice was calm, steady, almost kind. But Calcharo… was never one to yield.
He had always lived by one belief: "If your fists aren't enough—bite."
With a sudden surge of force, Calcharo gripped his weapon tighter and swung with full might. The clash was brutal—both weapons shattered from the blow, sent flying in opposite directions.
But Calcharo wasn't done. He saw his opening and activated his Forte. A phantom shimmered into existence beside him—his second self, drawn from Resonance.
Together, they drove their fists into Lian's face with everything they had.
BOOM.
A sonic boom ripped through the hollow interior of the Giant Banyan Tree, shaking the forest floor and sending birds fleeing in a panic The burst of wind and thunder making the massive tree groan and buckle.
Lian took the hit square to the side of his face. It felt like two forces—real and spectral—trying to flatten his skull.
And yet…
Only one foot lifted—barely a millimeter—from the ground. His stance held. His body, though shaken, remained solid—like a mountain resisting a storm.
Calcharo stood panting, chest heaving, eyes locked on Lian's unreadable expression.
The jet black-haired Resonator slowly turned back toward him, a look of genuine surprise on his face.
"Impressive," Lian said at last.
He glanced at Calcharo, and added, "To make me falter, even a little—that's an achievement."
It wasn't arrogance. It was honest acknowledgment.
Lian then curled his fingers into a fist. "Now," he said, holding his fist forward for the man to see, "present me with an opportunity as well."
Before Calcharo could even blink, his body felt weightless—unnaturally so.
Then—CRACK.
He was launched backward like a ragdoll. His back smashed into the trunk of the Banyan Tree, the force enough to crack bark and bone alike. Blood burst from his lips.
'What... the hell... just happened?' His hazy muddle mind barely formed a question.
There had been no time to react. It was like being hit by inevitability itself. The light in Calcharo's eyes began to fade, his Resonance flickering like a dying flame.
And yet, pain never came. It was gone.
Numbness washed over him, soothing and surreal. The agony that had exploded in his ribs and spine simply... faded.
Lian stood over him, a faint glow in his eyes as Resonance pulsed gently from his hand.
He had used Impermanence—his unique ability to hasten the passing of all things, even pain itself. Wounds did not last forever. Suffering was a moment. And Lian, as its wielder, could choose when that moment ended.
"It would be a shame for you to die so early. Do you yield?" Lian's voice was calm—almost considerate.
For a moment, Calcharo's stubborn pride flared... but then cracked. "...Yes," he admitted, the word falling like a stone from his throat.
Lian gave a faint nod and turned toward the Feilian Beringal's corpse, ready to claim the bounty.
But something tugged at Calcharo's memory. That phrasing—"Did you take the commission too?"
It hadn't sounded like a simple confirmation.
His eyes narrowed. A strange thought surfaced—unlikely, but worth testing.
"Do you need money?" he asked.
Lian didn't look back, but gave a simple answer. "For my necessities, yes."
Calcharo pondered Lian's words for a while, rubbing the edge of his jaw, then spoke again. "I have an offer."
"If it's money," Lian replied, still facing the corpse, "I'm not interested."
But Calcharo's next words made him pause. "Join my mercenary company."
Lian's eyes flicked back, a small shift in posture betraying his sudden interest.
That wasn't a bribe. It was an invitation.
In Solaris III, no matter how powerful one grew, alliances—factions—were necessary. Even lone wolves needed shelter from the storm.
Slowly, Lian turned his head, his pristine hair catching the dim light filtering through the banyan canopy. "...Tell me about it."
***
A few months had passed.
Lian now stood before a modest watermelon stall in a sunbaked marketplace, casually tapping each gourd with two fingers, listening to the tone like a seasoned musician testing strings.
Thump. Thump.
He paused.
"This one," Lian pointed at a melon which was slightly bruised, and was on verge of being spoiled.
Raising an eyebrow, the shopkeeper confirmed. "You sure about that one? It's... seen better days."
Lian nodded without elaboration, handing the shell credits. He tapped his terminal, and with a flicker of light, the melon vanished into his personal storage—its glow marked by the emblem of the Ghost Hounds.
Just then, his terminal buzzed. A message popped up across the display: "New Commission."
Lian's eyes scanned the brief contents: "Proceed to Jinzhou. Reinforce local resistance in the Norfall Barrens. Hostilities escalating."
He swiped the message aside. With a subtle motion, his terminal shimmered again—this time displaying his title: "Maverick of the Ghost Hounds: Da Lian."
"I guess... I better go negotiate," he muttered, tapping the terminal as a navigation waypoint began to blink in the air before him—Destination: Huanglong.
Without another word, Lian's body became translucent, vanishing from the market.
***
Deep within the lands where the indomitable spirit of Jinzhou still lingered—at the threshold between Huanglong's inner and outer regions, where the mighty Loong had once banished the darkness—lay the Gorges of Spirit.
And within those quiet, sacred canyons, a figure of a young man stirred.
Golden eyes, sharp and clear, blinked open beneath dark lashes. His black hair was tousled, and he wore fine—if dust-stained—clothing. His head rested on something soft.
Above him, framed by light, was a young woman in elegant blue clothing. She smiled with relief, offering him a lap pillow as his groggy eyes adjusted.
"Ah! You're awake," she said gently.
Before he could respond, another voice chimed in.
"Let me see! Let me see!"
A girl with fiery red hair leaned into view. Her clothes were tactical and modern, and the hustler to her belt instantly marked her as a gunner. Likely a rookie, judging by her eager tone.
The two women sighed in relief at the man's awakening, but he could only blink back dizziness, a fog in his head making the world spin slightly.
"Thank goodness you're awake!" the red-haired girl repeated.
"Otherwise, I would've had to use my last-ditch move—Emergency Skills for Junior Patrollers!" She dropped into a clumsy but serious pose and mimed chest compressions. "Lesson One: CPR!"
The young man, however, simply rose up much to the slight embarrassment the red woman felt for her embarrassing enthusiasm. "Erm, never did it in any living person though." She mumbled, lightly scratched her sides.
Yet, her words were muddled in the ears of the young man. Pain washed over him, making him lightly press his temples.
Unaware, the woman dressed in blue chided the red-haired woman, "Chixia."
"Sorry, sorry." Chixia said, stepping back and giving the man space. "You just woke up, and here I am, chattin' up a storm..."
Though her odd outlandish demeanor, her words were soft and well spoken as her intent was anything but hostile.
The two woman rose up, now facing the young man, one looked with cautious interest, while the other with lingering worry.
"Are you all right?" The woman dressed in blue reached out in a gentle voice, offering comfort, "Do you feel any discomfort?"
The young man's golden eyes swept over her, and the enthusiast girl who was called "Chixia".
He asked, "You are?"
The red haired woman was the one to answer. She stepped a few step closer, waving her hands, "I am Chixia" She confirmed, before signaling towards the woman in blue, "And she is Yangyang."
Yangyang gave a nod, confirming her identity.
The young man's eyes moved to the familiar, yet unknown surroundings which he could not quite put his finger into.
He asked, "Where am I?" His frown expressing his confusion.
"We are in the Gorges of Spirits." Yangyang explained patiently. "It's on the outskirts of Jinzhou, Huanglong."
Her eyes surveyed the young man as she couldn't help but admire how handsome he was. "—!!?"
A split second embarrassment flushed over her face as she shook her head out of such thoughts, she pointed, "Your attire doesn't seem local."
Curious, she asked. "Are you a roving traveler from afar, or... someone returning home?"
"I..." The young man's effort to remember was futile. Thus he truthfully admitted, "I don't remember."
Yangyang's temples creased into a frown, not from suspicion, but sympathy. "So you don't know why you're here, where you're from, or who you are..."
The young man nodded.
Dismayed by his mental condition, Chixia murmured, "Baizhi didn't tell us you'd have these aftereffects when you wake up." She whispered a name of her other friend as she made a pondering gesture.
Yet, ponderation had to be done another time as sky dimmed, and the air felt more chilly than earlier. Sensitive to the whispers of the wind, Yangyang gravely uttered, "The wind has brought us a warning."
Her hand sought the air where tiny motes of light—etheric sparks—began to whirl and dance. "The Etheric Sea is converging," her tone was grave as she declared. "It seems a new Tacet Field is taking shape."
But helplessly unaware of such familiar terms the young man asked, "What do you mean?"
Chixia gave a simple answer. "That means it's probably gonna get dangerous here soon." She pointed when a device which was hung on the back of her belt buzzed.
She unlatched the gourd-shaped object as she frowned, "Ugh, I knew it." Her voice was bitter, "Our gourds—Terminals—are out of service because of the Etheric Sea's influence."
"We can't send or receive messages for help now." She whispered in trepidation as the young man looked at the gourd with his mouth slightly agape, recognizing this piece of equipment. Similar equipment was latched on the back of his belt.
"We better hurry over and meet up with Baizhi at our gathering spot," Chixia said, glancing at the dimming sky. But her eyes wandered back to the young man, who looked both puzzled and helpless.
"Guess you really can't remember a thing, huh?" she susurrated with sympathy. "Don't worry!" Her voice carried that strange mix of cheer and reassurance, like sunlight pushing through a cloudy day.
Reassuring him, Chixia offered, "If you got any questions, we can talk as we move." She gazed at Yangyang who nodded. "Yangyang and I will give you the full scoop, every little detail, from the get-go!"
Yangyang nodded, calm and steady as ever.
"Rover…"Yangyang interjected, calling out gently. "Would it be alright if we call you that? At least until you remember your true name?"
The young man looked between them. Their eyes held no mockery, only kindness.
"…Alright," he replied.
ROAR
The sky roared above them, dark thunderclouds gathering like wolves on the hunt. A faint tremor rolled through the Gorge, shaking loose pebbles from the ancient cliffside.
Yangyang's expression grew tense. "We shouldn't stay here."
She turned to the golden-eyed man—Rover—and extended a calm, steady offer. "If you don't have any other plans… would you like to leave with us for now?"
Rover glanced up at the darkening skies, then back at her. "…Okay."
Yangyang gave a relieved smile. "The terrain around here is complicated," she explained. "We usually take one specific path through the cliffs."
She tilted her head slightly. "If you don't mind, we could travel together—just until we leave the Gorge."
But sensing that her suggestion might pressure someone still recovering, she quickly added with gentle assurance, "You can figure out your next steps once we're out. No rush."
Rover gave a small nod. Her offer felt reasonable—and kind. "All right. I'll tag along."
"Great!" Chixia grinned, throwing her fist in the air with enthusiasm. "Let's go together!"
She was the first to move, taking the lead along the jagged trail ahead. Yangyang sighed softly at her friend's excitement and glanced toward Rover who gave a helpless smile.
Together, they followed behind.
And so, step by step, a new story began.
To be continued...
***
A/N: I believe shortening the chapter will help a little. I will do that following next chapters.