July 5, 2000 — Seoul, South Korea
Rover stood frozen, a lone child in the ruins of a dying city, as death circled above like a storm.
Smoke coiled upward in black, choking ribbons, blotting out the midday sun until the world dimmed to a shade of twilight. Sirens wailed in the distance—fractured things now, more static than signal—while the crumbling remnants of Seoul groaned beneath their own weight. Buildings cracked and folded in on themselves, vomiting flame and glass into the streets. The sky was smeared in ash and firelight.
And at the center of it all was a boy. Five years old. Knees scraped. Face smudged with soot and blood that wasn't his.
Rover Cheon.
He trembled beside the still, broken form of his mother.
The wyvern's shadow swept across the burning street again. It sliced through the smoke like a blade, wings stretching like torn curtains of night. It roared—a sound so raw and primal that even the buildings seemed to flinch.
Then it dove.
The ground shook beneath its landing. Asphalt cracked like thin ice under its claws. The monster stood taller than a tank, with wings that stretched longer than a city bus. Scales shimmered with a molten sheen, each one like hammered obsidian. Smoke curled from its nostrils. Blood still dripped from its maw.
Its gaze found Rover.
Saliva dripped from its jagged teeth, each fang as long as the boy's forearm.
It took a step forward.
But just before it reached him—
Ten Minutes Earlier.
The world had not yet ended.
Not completely.
The air was thick with smoke and screams, but there was still hope in the frantic movement of survivors. Still breath in the lungs of those who ran.
Rover's mother clutched his hand as tightly as she could, her knuckles pale, her steps uneven. Around them, chaos reigned—people screaming, buildings collapsing, fires leaping between rooftops. The wyvern's screech tore through the streets like thunder. Flames licked the sides of vehicles, igniting gas tanks with violent bursts.
"Don't stop, baby. Just keep running."
She stumbled as a nearby building crumbled, debris pelting the pavement. She shielded Rover with her body, taking most of the blast to her side. Blood seeped through her sleeve, but she didn't let go.
A car exploded behind them. Heat and shockwave pushed them forward.
Rover tripped on a severed hose and nearly fell, but she caught him—again—and kept going.
They ducked into the shattered shell of a convenience store, the glass long gone, the shelves half-toppled.
She pushed Rover gently but urgently into the far corner beneath a collapsed steel beam.
"Stay down. Stay quiet."
He looked up at her with wide, trembling eyes.
"Mama... what's happening?"
Her breath was ragged. Her eyes glassy with exhaustion and fear.
"I don't know. But we're gonna get through this, alright? Just... don't let go of my voice."
She knelt and cupped his face, brushing a shaking thumb across his soot-streaked cheek.
"You have to be brave now. Braver than you've ever been."
He nodded slowly, tears starting to spill down his cheeks.
"I—I will. I promise."
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, holding it there for a moment longer than she should have.
Then the wall exploded.
A jagged horn burst through the plaster, followed by a snapping jaw. The wyvern rammed its head into the room like a battering ram. Its molten eyes burned in the darkness.
"No!" she screamed, standing between it and her son.
She grabbed a broken metal pipe from the ground and hurled it like a spear. It clanged uselessly off the wyvern's face.
It blinked once.
Then struck.
Claws like guillotines punched through her back.
She was flung across the room—her body slamming against the far wall and crumpling to the floor. Blood pooled beneath her.
Rover screamed.
She was still breathing—barely. Her arm reached out weakly, trembling.
"Rover... run..."
He crawled to her, sobbing, grabbing her hand.
Her fingers curled around his with failing strength.
"You're my whole world," she whispered. "You survive… You live."
Her chest rose once more.
Then stilled.
The light in her eyes faded.
Rover's hands trembled on her arm. His voice broke as he whispered her name again and again, but she was already gone.
Behind him, the wyvern scraped its claws on the tile, watching.
Now.
The creature stepped forward again, wings curling like death's own cape.
And then—
Gunfire.
Blazing streaks of tracer rounds cut through the haze.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Sparks erupted across the wyvern's neck and shoulders. It snarled in surprise.
A man burst from a nearby alley, rifle slung over one arm, scorched uniform clinging to his bloodied frame.
"HEY! Over here, you ugly bastard!"
He emptied the last of his magazine in three short bursts. Click. Empty.
He didn't hesitate—he tossed the rifle and pulled a long combat knife free from his boot sheath.
Jae.
His stance was firm, blade steady, breath sharp but unwavering.
He stepped in front of Rover.
"Not this one," he said. "You're not taking this one too."
The wyvern hissed.
Jae crouched beside Rover, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.
"Kid. You hear me?"
Rover blinked, his mother's blood still drying on his small hands.
"You have to move now. Get up. Look at me."
The boy didn't respond.
Jae's voice softened, cracked.
"I saw what happened. Your mom—she saved you. Don't waste it. Don't you dare waste it."
"M-mom…"
"I know. But we gotta go. Now."
Jae grabbed Rover's hand and yanked him up.
The wyvern roared.
The building groaned.
Then it lunged.
Jae pulled the boy just in time, diving through a crumbling window frame into the alley beyond. Fire licked at their heels. Debris rained down behind them.
They ran—dodging shattered walls, ducking under twisted steel, weaving through wreckage.
Finally, under a collapsed overpass, they stopped.
Jae dropped to one knee, coughing hard, then handed Rover a crushed water pouch.
"Drink. Not all of it."
Rover drank with shaking hands.
"I'm Jae," the soldier said. "You?"
"…Rover."
Jae nodded. "Strong name. You've gotta live up to it now."
He checked the knife, wiped it on his sleeve. "No bullets. Figures."
"You saved me."
Jae's eyes flickered with something—pain, maybe. "Didn't save her."
Silence hung between them.
"You don't deserve this," he muttered.
"I don't want to be alone."
"You're not," Jae said. "I'm still here."
The moment didn't last.
A shriek rang out—closer.
The wyvern hadn't given up.
Jae stood quickly. "It's tracking us."
He looked down at Rover, jaw clenched.
"You need to go. Right now. Find shelter. Hide. Don't stop until you're safe."
"I'm not leaving you!"
"You have to!" Jae's voice cracked. "I made a promise. I'll keep it. That's what soldiers do."
Rover shook his head. "Please…"
"I know you're scared. But bravery isn't not being scared. It's moving anyway."
He turned away and stepped into the open street.
The wyvern landed with a thunderclap, fire spiraling from its maw.
Jae ran straight into the inferno.
He rolled beneath a claw swipe, stabbing into the creature's thigh. Blood hissed from the wound. He jabbed again—into the wing joint, the eye ridge.
The beast roared in fury.
Then it caught him.
A claw slammed into his chest. He crashed into the ground, ribs cracking.
He still got up.
He always got up.
Rover watched, trembling, tears blinding him.
"Stop!" he screamed. "Don't hurt him!"
He hurled a rock.
It hit the wyvern's eye.
It turned.
Gunfire erupted—dozens of soldiers spilling from alleyways, rifles blazing.
Tracer rounds tore through the wyvern's wing. Blood sprayed.
With one last snarl, it launched skyward and vanished into the smoke.
Rover ran to Jae's side.
The man lay crumpled, blood blooming through his shirt.
"You came back," Jae rasped.
"You didn't leave me."
Jae smiled faintly. "That's… what heroes do."
Rover clutched his hand, sobbing.
"You're strong," Jae whispered. "You remember that."
Then he was gone.
The boy wailed—a pure, wordless cry of pain that echoed into the burning sky.
Later.
Rover was carried through the broken streets by another soldier—an unfamiliar one this time. He didn't remember climbing into the man's arms. He didn't remember anything, really.
Just fire.
And blood.
And eyes.
The wyvern's molten eyes haunted his every blink.
He didn't cry anymore. His tears had run dry. His gaze stared blankly into the horizon as sirens screamed and survivors sobbed and the world ended around him.
But deep inside, something was changing.
A fire was being lit.
He would never forget that monster.
He would never forget what it took from him.
He clenched his fists as the ruins passed by, as the scent of ash and blood filled his lungs.
> I'll find you again.
> And when I do… I'll rip you apart.