Chapter 1 — The Man in Silver Armor
The sun burned high over the fields, painting the grass gold and the trees black with shadow.
A boy with wild black hair swung a wooden sword again and again, his arms shaking with effort.
Beside him, a black wolf twice the size of a normal beast circled, teeth bared, lunging whenever the boy's guard slipped.
"Focus, Synoh!" barked the wolf in a low growl.
Fel's voice — deep and rumbling — had become as familiar as Synoh's own heartbeat.
Synoh gritted his teeth, wiping sweat from his eyes.
"I am focused!"
He ducked under Fel's swiping claws, rolling across the dirt and springing back to his feet. His body ached, his hands were blistered, but he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
The promise he made that night in the forest — to live, to become strong — still burned inside him.
Then, Fel froze, ears twitching.
Synoh stiffened too, instinct flaring.
Footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
From the treeline emerged a figure clad in shining silver armor, a long cloak billowing behind him. His helmet glinted like a mirror, hiding his face.
Across his back hung a sword longer than Synoh was tall.
Neither boy nor wolf spoke.
Without a word, they charged.
Fel sprang first, a blur of black fur and fury.
Synoh followed, shouting, sword raised.
The knight moved faster than sight.
A flash of steel —
A thud —
And both Synoh and Fel were flat on their backs, gasping for air.
"Too slow," the knight said, his voice calm and rough, like riverstones grinding together.
Synoh scrambled up, face burning.
"Who are you?!"
The knight didn't answer.
Instead, he planted his sword into the ground and folded his arms.
"I saw your training. It's sloppy. Wild. No discipline."
Fel growled lowly. "We don't need some armored stranger judging us."
The knight tilted his head slightly. "Perhaps not.
But if you wish to survive what's coming... you need more than raw strength.
You need knowledge."
He drew a small book from his belt and tossed it at Synoh's feet.
"Strategies of War. Read it."
Synoh blinked, stunned. "You... want to teach me?"
The knight's helmet nodded once.
"Until you are ready."
---
Years Passed...
Days blurred into months.
Months into years.
The knight, who never removed his helmet, became a constant shadow.
He taught Synoh not just how to swing a sword, but where to strike, when to retreat, how to turn the flow of battle with a single move.
He taught him how to think.
Fel, too, learned new ways of fighting — striking in tandem with Synoh, reading his body language, becoming a living weapon at his side.
And slowly, the wild boy became something sharper. Stronger. Smarter.
---
One Evening, Under a Blood-Red Sky...
The knight stood at the edge of the forest, looking out across the distant hills.
"It's time," he said.
Synoh stared at him, heart twisting.
"You're leaving?"
"You don't need me anymore," the knight said. "You're ready."
"But... I don't even know your name," Synoh said, fists clenched.
The knight hesitated for a long moment.
Then, in a voice softer than Synoh had ever heard from him, he said:
"Call me... Synix."
The name stirred something deep inside Synoh, a feeling he couldn't explain.
Synix knelt before him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Listen well, Synoh.
One day, when you have become a knight... no, something greater — a General — seek me.
Only then will we meet again."
He stood, turned, and began to walk away.
Synoh took a step after him.
"Wait! Promise me! We'll meet again!"
The knight paused at the edge of the trees.
"I promise."
And then he was gone, swallowed by the mists of twilight.
Synoh stood alone, the worn book of strategy heavy in his hand, Fel by his side.
From that day forward, a single goal burned in his chest:
To become a knight no enemy could defeat —
A general who could shape the course of history —
And to one day meet the man who had believed in him.
---
(End of Chapter 1)