"Where am I…?"
Reynar's eyes snapped open, his head throbbing, and for a moment, everything was disorienting. Above him, the ceiling was nothing but rough stone, jagged and uneven, like the bones of the earth itself.
Dim light flickered from a chandelier that barely illuminated the corners of the room. The shadows seemed to stretch out, hungry, waiting.
He groaned, the pain in his skull like fire as he tried to make sense of where he was. His limbs felt stiff, as if they'd been asleep for too long.
The bed beneath him was simple, a slab of wood with rough linens. It smelled of dust, mildew, and something older—something that whispered of forgotten places.
He swung his legs off the bed, the cold of the stone floor biting at his feet. The air around him was still, thick with an uneasy silence. No voices. No sounds of movement. Just the quiet hum of his own breath, ragged and uneven.
The room was barren. A few scattered torches burned faintly on the walls, but they only seemed to deepen the shadows around the edges of the space. The walls themselves were crude, jagged stone that seemed to press in on him, as if the room were alive, watching.
He was alone.
"Where… am I?" he muttered under his breath. His voice felt strange in the silence, like it didn't belong here.
Everything felt wrong. But there was no time to dwell on it. Not yet.
He stood, pushing through the ache in his muscles, his mind still racing to catch up. He had to figure this out. Had to move. No answers here, only the emptiness of this cold, forgotten place.
A sound shattered the silence. A small, almost insignificant noise, but in this still, suffocating room, it may as well have been a thunderclap.
Reynar spun, every muscle in his body tensing—only to be met with a sight that was far from menacing.
A young man stood there, balancing a wooden plate in one hand—a cup of water and a small piece of bread resting on it—while his other hand lingered on the door handle. His green eyes flickered with mild amusement. His messy brown hair gave him an almost careless look, though the sharpness in his gaze told a different story. His clothes were plain, the kind worn by someone who didn't have much but made do with what they had.
"Hello… how are you?" he asked casually, stepping inside.
Reynar narrowed his eyes. "Who, exactly, are you? And more importantly—where the hell am I?"
Unbothered by the hostility, the young man stepped inside, walking toward a wooden table in the center of the room. He placed the plate down and, with the air of someone settling in for a pleasant chat, pulled out a chair and sat.
"My name is Collin. Nice to meet you."
Reynar stared at him. Then at the cup of water. Then back at him.
"Nice to meet you too, Collin." His voice was dry, edged with suspicion. "How I ended up here?"
Collin sighed, leaning back like this was a conversation he'd had a thousand times before. "Well… I found you half-dead on the road. You looked terrible, by the way. Thought you were a corpse at first, but then you started twitching, so I figured, hey, might as well drag you somewhere safer."
Reynar barely heard a word.
Water.
The cup sat there, glistening, impossibly tempting. His throat felt like sandpaper, his body screaming for relief. The rest of Collin's explanation blurred into nothingness.
"...and I dragged you ther—"
"Excuse me!" Reynar snapped, eyes locked on the cup like it held the meaning of life. "Can I have a little water?"
Collin blinked. "Oh. Of course, I brought it for—"
Reynar didn't wait for him to finish. He grabbed the cup and downed the water in seconds, nearly choking on how fast he drank.
Collin just watched, raising an eyebrow. "You, uh… want the bread too? Or should I step out and give you a moment alone with the cup?"
Reynar exhaled, wiping his mouth. The water was gone, but he still felt like he could drink a river.
He shot Collin a flat look. "...Explain. From the beginning."
Collin smirked. "Alright. But next time, maybe pace yourself. Wouldn't want you to drown in a cup."
Collin was a mere merchant, the kind of man who lived by the weight of his coin purse and the sturdiness of his boots. No grand aspirations, no daring adventures—just a routine journey back to town. And then, of course, he stumbled across Reynar.
Half-dead, sprawled out in the middle of the road like discarded luggage, Reynar had probably looked more corpse than man. A reasonable person might have assumed he was already gone and moved along. Collin, however, had a moment of weakness—or perhaps just an odd sense of duty—and dragged him back to his home.
"Where are you from, Reynar?" Collin asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Tevasa," Reynar muttered, rubbing his temples. "A small village somewhere in Etharia."
"Etharia!?"
Reynar blinked. "...Yeah? Is that a problem?"
"Oh no, no," Collin said, shaking his head. "It's just that, you know… that's really far from here."
Reynar frowned. "Okay. And where exactly is 'here'?"
"We're in Zendia."
"Zendia?"
That was when the gears in Reynar's mind finally started turning. The fog in his memory lifted just enough to remind him of a crucial detail—something he should have recalled a lot sooner.
(Pandora consists of seven continents—Etharia, Sylfheim, Dragnir, Elderra, Gingar, Chaos, and... what was the last one again? Ah. Right. Zendia. The place I apparently woke up in.)
"Great," he muttered. "I got washed up on Zendia's coast."
"Washed?"
"Yeah, I'm a shipwreck survivor,"
Collin blinked. "Oh. That's rough. Tell me about it,"
Reynar started. "One moment I'm on a perfectly fine ship, the next I'm learning how much seawater I can drink before dying."
Collin made a face. "And how much was it?"
"Enough to wish I had died."
And with that, Reynar launched into his tale—how everything had gone horribly, catastrophically wrong, culminating in him lying face-down in the dirt like an abandoned corpse.
Half an hour had passed since Reynar began recounting his story to Collin.
"You're lying," Collin said flatly, crossing his arms.
"What?" Reynar blinked in confusion.
"There's no chance in infinity that you killed a 'Barak' with just your sword!" Collin's tone was skeptical, as if he'd heard far too many tall tales in his life.
"Barak?" Reynar echoed, still trying to piece together the strange new term.
"The monster you just told me you killed," Collin said, almost incredulously.
"Aah…" Reynar trailed off, realizing what Collin meant.
Collin raised an eyebrow, his skepticism shifting to disbelief. "You've never heard of a Barak?"
Reynar shook his head. "Should I have?"
Collin groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, let's get this straight. A Barak is a hybrid monster, and I'm not talking about some little cave-dwelling critter. We're talking about a creature that can tear a full-grown man apart like it's nothing."
"Hybrid monster…?" Reynar frowned, trying to imagine what that could look like.
"Yeah, a crossbreed of shadow and beast. They live deep in the forests of Zendia, but they originally come from Chaos." Collin leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "And you're telling me you killed one with nothing but a sword?"
Reynar blinked. "Chaos?"
Collin gave him an exasperated look. "Have you ever even gone to school?"
"None," Reynar replied flatly.
"Yeah, I figured," Collin muttered under his breath, his tone half-teasing, half-disappointed. "Alright, let me teach you something, then."
Reynar raised an eyebrow. "Teach me what?"
Collin leaned back, beginning his explanation. "Chaos—or Void, or Abyss, depending on who you ask—is a continent located to the northwest of Pandora. It's a godforsaken place, filled with monsters and untold horrors. The kind of beasts that could make even the bravest of men piss their pants."
Reynar listened intently, his eyes narrowing. "I thought Zendia was the only continent with monsters like that."
"Nope." Collin shook his head. "Zendia's forests are full of dangerous creatures, sure, but Chaos is something else entirely. It's the birthplace of nightmares. It's isolated from the rest of Pandora, with Gray Zones surrounding it. Those are areas where the borders between Chaos, Elderra, and Sylfheim blur, creating dangerous, unpredictable land. Any fool who crosses those zones is never the same when they return—or they never return at all."
"So… Baraks come from this… Chaos?" Reynar asked, piecing it together.
"Exactly." Collin leaned in, his voice lowering. "They're fierce, primal, and as fast as shadows. The only reason they can even survive in Zendia's forests is because of the way Zendia's land sometimes bleeds over into the edges of Chaos. It's a dangerous place, Reynar, and you're lucky to even be alive after facing one of them."
Reynar rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "But I killed it," he muttered, still unsure if he could believe his own tale.
Collin gave him a long, skeptical stare. "We'll see about that."
Collin let out a small, exasperated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You seriously need to learn more about the world outside your little village."
Reynar stood up, stretching his stiff muscles. "I get that. But right now, I'm more interested in what's out there." He gestured toward the door. "I've been stuck in here long enough."
Collin eyed him warily. "And what exactly do you think you'll find out there, huh? The city's not a place for someone who doesn't know the first thing about it."
Reynar shot him a sharp glance, already moving toward the door. "I'm sure I'll figure it out. Just tell me the name of the city."
Collin hesitated for a moment, then gave in with a sigh. "It's called Eldraen, part of the Norak Kingdom. You can find everything there—traders, mercenaries, gamblers, even some shady folks you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley."
Reynar opened the door, pausing as the cool evening air hit his face. "Sounds like the perfect place to get lost."
"Don't go looking for trouble," Collin warned.
Reynar gave a faint smirk. "Trouble has a way of finding me."
Reynar stood up abruptly from the chair, the weight of the conversation settling in. He paced for a moment, the floor creaking beneath his boots. The thought of staying in Collin's house for another minute gnawed at him—he needed to move, to find something, anything, beyond this strange lull of safety.
"Where's my sword?" he asked, turning sharply to Collin, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow.
Collin didn't answer immediately, just leaned back in his chair, studying Reynar. "You're not thinking of heading out like that, are you?"
"Like what?"
"You know… torn clothes… bandages?"
"I'm fine" Reynar replied, voice low but firm. He wasn't asking for permission. The sooner he got out of here, the better.
Collin sighed, clearly resigned to Reynar's stubbornness. "Fine," he muttered, pushing himself out of his chair. "I'll get it for you."
He disappeared into the next room, and Reynar moved quickly, gathering his things with an urgency that surprised even him. His mind was already on the city—the noise, the chaos, the unknown. He felt the pull of it like a storm on the horizon.
The sound of metal clinking broke his thoughts as Collin returned with Reynar's sword and the axe he'd been carrying earlier. "This is yours," Collin said, placing them on the bed.
Reynar picked them up without hesitation. The cool steel of his sword felt familiar, grounding him in the moment. The axe had a heavier, more rugged feel to it, the kind that demanded respect. He slung both weapons over his back, making sure everything was in place.
He gave Collin a brief nod. "Thanks. I'll be on my way now."
Collin opened his mouth, probably to warn him again, but Reynar was already halfway out the door, not waiting for the lecture. His boots hit the dirt road with purpose, the weight of his pack and weapons settling comfortably around him.
"You know i still dont believe you for the Barak!" Collin shouted.
"Sure… Oh and... thank you for the help, i won't forget." Reynar replied.
As the door closed behind him with a soft thud, he felt the tension of the house—of safety, of restraint—fall away. The open road stretched ahead, and the city of Eldraen loomed in the distance, a place of opportunities and dangers alike. It didn't matter what was waiting for him there. Reynar had come to realize that trouble always found him. And today, he was ready to meet it head-on.
The city of Eldraen stretched out before him, its cobbled streets winding between rows of tall stone buildings, their facades adorned with ivy and carvings that seemed to whisper tales of centuries past. The sun, now pushing through the clouds, bathed the city in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the bustling streets.
Reynar walked with purpose, his boots clicking softly against the wet stones. Despite the storm's recent departure, the air still carried a fresh, earthy scent, and the distant smell of cooked food drifted from nearby taverns and food stalls.
People moved around him in a steady flow—merchants hawking their wares, children playing, and travelers like himself weaving through the crowd. The chatter of conversation mixed with the clinking of coin and the hum of activity.
As he walked deeper into the heart of Eldraen, the streets grew wider, the buildings taller, and the noise more pronounced.
Vendors lined the sidewalks, their stalls brimming with colorful fabrics, exotic spices, and trinkets that seemed to have come from every corner of the known world. The smell of fresh bread and roasted meats grew stronger, tempting Reynar's senses.
Above him, banners fluttered in the breeze, bearing the crest of Eldraen's ruling family—an intricate design of gold and silver against a deep purple field.
The city seemed to pulse with life, every corner alive with stories, secrets, and opportunity.
Eventually, Reynar found himself at the city's center, where a massive square opened up before him. At the heart of the square stood a grand fountain, its waters cascading down from a marble statue of a long-forgotten king.
Around the fountain, groups of people gathered, some deep in conversation, others simply resting in the sun's warmth.
Shops and market stalls circled the square, their colorful signs swaying gently in the breeze. The sound of music drifted from a nearby tavern, and the smell of a nearby food stall made Reynar's stomach growl, reminding him that it had been some time since his last meal.
For a moment, he stood still, taking in the sheer size and vitality of the place. It was unlike anything he had seen before—an ancient city, brimming with both wealth and wonder, and yet, despite its beauty, there was a feeling of tension in the air. Something he couldn't quite place.
The streets beckoned him forward, and with a final glance at the grand fountain, Reynar pushed onward, his footsteps echoing in the city's heartbeat.
Reynar continued walking through the busy square, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The bustle of Eldraen was almost calming, a stark contrast to the storm's fury. Yet, something about the crowd felt… uneasy. People hurried past him with hurried steps, some casting nervous glances toward the alleys and corners.
As he passed a merchant stall, a tall man with a rugged face bumped into him, his hand brushing against Reynar's shoulder.
Reynar wandered through the marketplace, his eyes lingering on the rows of fresh produce, sizzling meat skewers, and golden-brown pastries. His stomach twisted in protest, but there was no use dreaming—he had no money. With a sigh, he turned away and let his feet carry him deeper into the city's alleys.
The city itself was beautiful, almost annoyingly so. The wind carried the faint scent of flowers, the walls were painted in warm, earthy hues, and the cobbled streets were clean, as if someone actually cared. It had a strange, peaceful charm.
The alleys? Not so much.
They were quieter. Too quiet.
And then—
"Come on, my pretty lady, why don't you have a little fun with us?"
Reynar's brows lifted. That didn't sound like an invitation to a tea party.
He turned a corner and found the source of the voice.
Down a narrow alley, four men surrounded a young woman. She was stunning, with long golden hair woven into a loose braid, a few strands framing her sharp features. Her golden eyes gleamed with confidence, catching the dim light like molten metal. She wore a sleek black outfit, accentuated with intricate golden chains that draped elegantly across her torso. A detailed golden belt sat at her waist, adding a regal touch to her already commanding presence.
The four men? Not nearly as refined.
The leader was a bearded brute with a shaved head and a scar splitting his lip. His arms were thick, but his gut was thicker—like a bear that had given up on hunting and settled for mugging drunkards instead. A jagged knife hung from his belt, and his yellow-toothed grin practically oozed sleaze.
To his left stood a man who looked like he hadn't slept in years. Sunken eyes, patchy stubble, and a permanent scowl. His fingers twitched near the handle of a short sword, like a bad habit he couldn't kick.
The third was built like a twig but had a face only a mother could pretend to love—narrow, rat-like features, beady eyes, and a grin that screamed "I steal from my own friends."
The last guy was somehow the worst of them all. No scars, no rough edges—just a man so painfully average that his only crime was existing. He had the kind of face you'd forget even while looking at him.
"Let's have some fun, yeah?" the leader chuckled, stepping closer.
The girl, despite being surrounded, looked… amused.
"You guys look pretty desperate," she said, tilting her head. "What's wrong? Can't find a real woman?"
The bearded man's smile vanished. "You… fcking btch!" He raised his hand, ready to slap her—
"WAAAIT!"
All five of them turned to look at him.
"Eh…. f*ck," Reynar muttered under his breath. "Why the hell did I do that? Trying to play the hero? STUPID Reynar!"
"What is he mumbling about?" the sunken-eyed man asked.
"Who the f*ck are you?" the leader barked.
"Oh… eh… me?" Reynar pointed at himself as if there was anyone else dumb enough to interrupt.
"Yeah, you!"
"I'm…. just a passerby?" He flashed an insufferably smug grin, as if that would help.
"Should I kill him?" Rat-face asked eagerly.
"Sure," the leader said without a second thought.
Reynar blinked. "Wait—just like that? No introductions? No dramatic monologue about how I 'shouldn't have gotten involved'? No speech about my 'inevitable demise'?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Books really are different from reality, huh?"
The beautiful girl smirked, as if thoroughly entertained by his half-hearted rescue attempt.
"Kill him!"
The four men charged at him.
Reynar paled.
"Oh f*ck."
The moment the words "Kill him!" left the leader's lips, they charged.
Reynar barely had time to think—his body moved on instinct.
Rat-face lunged first, dagger flashing. Reynar twisted aside, the blade slicing through empty air. He brought his axe up in a brutal arc—crack! The handle slammed into his ribs. A choked wheeze escaped as he stumbled back, clutching his side.
No time to finish him.
The scarred brute swung a meaty fist at Reynar's skull. He ducked, the air whistling past his head. His sword flashed—shhk!—a shallow cut opened along the man's forearm, dark red blooming across his skin. But instead of slowing, the brute grinned.
Oh, you like that, huh?
Reynar didn't have time for insults.
Sunken-eyes came next, fast and methodical. His short sword stabbed forward. Reynar parried, steel clashing in a violent spark. A second strike came faster—too fast. He barely twisted in time, the blade grazing his ribs. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth, retaliating with a quick feint before driving his axe upward. The dull side caught the man's jaw with a sickening thud.
Then pain exploded in his skull.
Reynar staggered as something solid crashed into his face. His vision blurred.
The average-looking guy—the one he had stupidly ignored—had landed the hit.
His head snapped back just in time to see the bastard's boot coming for his gut. He barely twisted, the kick grazing his side. Snarling, Reynar retaliated—his axe swung low, catching the man's knee. A pop and a scream followed as the man collapsed, clutching his leg.
One down.
Rat-face was already back on him. This time, Reynar didn't hesitate—his sword flicked out, catching the man across the arm. The bastard howled.
Scarred-brute roared, swinging wide. Reynar parried with his sword, but the sheer force sent a shockwave up his arm. He gritted his teeth. Fine. If brute strength was what this guy wanted—
He shifted his stance, ducked the next blow, and slammed his axe handle straight into the man's throat. The brute gurgled, stumbling back, clutching his neck.
The lady watched carefully. She saw the raw talent, his quick adaptation, and his relentless will. He wasn't just surviving; he was learning.
—------------
A shift in the air.
Something wrong.
The alley seemed to tighten around him, the air thickening. A strange hum vibrated in his bones, making his skin crawl.
Reynar turned sharply.
The leader stood still, his palm outstretched.
A white glow pulsed around his fingers, swirling like living mist. The ground beneath them trembled slightly.
Reynar's stomach twisted.
What the f*ck—
Before he could finish, the man thrust his hand forward.
A burst of white energy tore through the alley, howling like a storm.
Reynar's instincts screamed. He threw himself to the ground, rolling just as the blast seared past him. Heat licked at his skin, the force rattling his bones. Behind him, the wall exploded, stone and dust raining down.
Panting, he scrambled back to his feet, heart hammering. His hands trembled—not from exhaustion, but from something colder.
That wasn't normal.
His mind flashed back—to the ship, to Eris. To the black mist she had conjured from a crystal, swallowing the sailors in eerie darkness.
The leader smirked and raised his hand again, white energy crackling around his palm.
----------
The ground shuddered beneath him.
In an instant, jet-black chains burst from the stone, twisting and lunging like living serpents. Before he could react, they coiled around his arms, legs, and torso, yanking him down with brutal force.
"What—?!" His voice turned into a choked gasp as he crashed to his knees, the chains tightening like iron restraints.
A soft click of boots against the cobblestone.
The girl stepped forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, completely unbothered.
"You really shouldn't play with mana in front of Bastion's soldier."
"Bastion? It can't be"
The leader turned pale, looking at the girl as if she were his worst nightmare. It seemed as if he understood the phrase: Bastion's soldier.
--------
Reynar was completely disoriented, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.
"Alright, Reynar, relax." He took deep breaths, trying to steady himself. "I just saw a guy throw white energy from his hand, demolish a wall, and chains popping out from the f*cking ground. Yep. Totally normal."
"Hehe."
A soft chuckle pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his head to see the young woman approaching him.
"You look funny," she said, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Still on the ground, Reynar tilted his head up, gaze slowly trailing over her.
"Damn… so sexy." The words slipped out under his breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Ehh—I mean, you look pretty!" he blurted, quickly correcting himself.
She smiled again, wider this time. "Oh, thanks."
Reynar, still embarrassed, rubbed the back of his neck. "You know… I was trying to be a hero. I thought maybe I could save a pretty lady… but, uh… it looks like the pretty lady saved me instead."
She laughed, a genuine, melodic sound. "You're even funnier than I thought. And very skillful."
Her eyes flickered toward the unconscious men sprawled across the ground.
Before Reynar could respond, a sharp voice cut through the alley:
"MISS AELTHAR?!"
Three figures emerged from the corner, their armor gleaming under the dim light.
Two of them were clad in silver plate armor, their broad shoulders reinforced by heavy pauldrons. Chainmail peeked from beneath their breastplates, and their gloved hands gripped massive swords that rested against their hips. Their helmets concealed their faces, but their rigid postures and disciplined stance spoke volumes.
Between them stood a stark contrast—a young man clad in black armor, devoid of a helmet. He appeared to be around Reynar's age, his sharp amber eyes scanning the scene with a calculating gaze. His dark hair was slicked back, save for two prominent bangs that fell forward, framing his face. A single earring glinted on his left ear. (Way too handsome)
His weapon of choice was different from the others—a sleek, deadly spear that he now pointed directly at Reynar.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
"It's okay, Gabby," She interjected. "He saved me."
"He saved you? Or was it the other way around?"
Reynar grinned. "Does it matter?"
He sighed. "Anyways Fre- i mean miss Aelthar, the horses are ready. Time to go."
"Wait….. i want to take him with me."
"Eh?"
"He has potential. Took down all of them without mana."
"So? I could do it too."
"Yes, but there is a huge gap between you, and he is not even a cadet."
"Tsk… fine. Do whatever you want."
One of the soldiers hesitated. "But the capt—"
"I don't care." He turned away. "It's her business, not mine. Let's go."
Reynar, still processing, blinked. "Mana? What in the world is mana?"
She smirked. "Come on, boy. You're coming with me."
"Well… I'm kinda broke right now… and… you know…..Can you at least tell me where we're going? "
"To The Bastion."
"What's that?"
"You will see."
"Eh? Well, under other circumstances i would decline, but this time i have nowhere to go and i have no money…. guess I'm coming."
Raynar stood up, still slightly disoriented, but the girl's confidence seemed to ground him. He straightened his shirt, brushing dirt from the road, and followed her to the waiting horses. The soldiers fell into formation behind them, their heavy armor clattering with every step.
The horses were strong, their coats gleaming under the evening sky, and their saddles were adorned with intricate designs, a sign of their importance. The girl mounted her horse gracefully, offering Reynar a hand to help him up. He took it and climbed onto the horse behind her, feeling the powerful animal shift beneath him. The soldiers mounted their own steeds, forming a protective circle around them.
As they rode through the streets, Reynar leaned slightly forward, the rhythmic sound of the hooves on cobblestone easing his nerves. The city lights of Eldraen gradually faded behind them, and the open road stretched out ahead, filled with the unknown.
Reynar sat close to the girl, her confidence contagious as the wind tousled his hair. He wasn't sure what awaited him, but for the first time in a while, he felt like this strange new path might just be what he needed.