The morning sun pierced through the forest canopy, its light filtering between the tall trees as mist clung to the undergrowth. The air was cool and damp, thick with the scent of wet soil and fallen leaves.
A teenage boy moved carefully between the bushes, his eyes scanning the forest floor with quiet focus.
Shin, seventeen years old, an orphan from the small village of Erden, was out gathering herbs — specifically for an herbal remedy to treat the village elder's headaches.
"According to the herb book… Riluna leaves grow near big rocks, somewhere damp," he muttered under his breath.
His fingers brushed aside leaves and branches as he scribbled a small note onto a weathered piece of paper. His steps were cautious.
Then suddenly — "Crack!"
The ground beneath him gave way. Shin slipped and tumbled into a hidden pit concealed by the bushes.
"Aaaagh!!" he yelled.
Branches snapped. Dirt filled the air. He landed hard against stone — painful, but not enough to seriously hurt him.
"Ugh… damn it…" he groaned.
His eyes opened to find himself in a small underground chamber, ancient and dark. Moss and strange carvings covered the stone walls. And in the center stood a large, pitch-black crystal — nearly as tall as a man.
Then... came the whisper.
"At last... someone has come."
"Huh?" Shin turned his head. "Who's—?"
Unaware, he stepped forward — and tripped over a broken symbol etched into the floor. He fell — his hand striking the surface of the crystal.
In that instant, the crystal cracked.
"CRACK!!"
A surge of black light burst from within. Glowing arcane symbols floated in the air. A hot, heavy wind exploded outward. Shin's body froze, eyes wide.
"This body... at last, I've found my vessel..."
The light was sucked into his chest. His eyes turned pitch black — just for a moment.
Then silence.
Shin collapsed, lying still for several seconds.
Slowly...
"Ugh… my head…" He groaned and sat up, holding his forehead.
He looked around.
"What… is this place? Right — I fell, didn't I?"
He remembered slipping, but nothing else. The voice, the crystal — all gone.
The soul that had awakened now lay hidden, quietly nesting inside him.
"Tch… still haven't even found the herbs…" he muttered, slightly annoyed.
He reached for his satchel and noticed a few leafy plants growing by the wall — enough for a remedy.
He gathered them calmly, tucked them away, and climbed out of the ruined pit, walking back toward the village as the morning sun rose higher.
Birds chirped. The wind blew gently.
Everything seemed normal.
But deep within him, the soul of the Last King had awakened…
and it was only a matter of time before the world felt its presence again.
The sun had risen higher by the time Shin reached the edge of Erden, a small village nestled between the forest and the distant mountains. The people were simple, kind, and humble — farmers, craftsmen, and hunters. It wasn't much, but to Shin, it was home.
As he walked down the dirt path, a few children waved at him.
"Hey Shin! Did you fall into the mud again?" one teased.
"You look like you fought a bear!" another laughed.
Shin chuckled, brushing dust and leaves from his clothes.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I just saved our elder's life. No big deal," he replied with a grin.
He reached his small wooden house — more of a shack, really — and entered. Inside, he grabbed a pot, lit a small flame, and began to crush the herbs into a thick green paste.
"Riluna leaves help the blood flow to the head… mix with Eru bark to ease the pain…"
His movements were calm and precise. He didn't realize his hands were faster than usual — almost like they were moving on instinct.
But he didn't notice. Not yet.
Once the mixture was done, Shin poured it into a clay bowl, grabbed a cloth to cover it, and headed to the village chief's house — a slightly larger home near the center of Erden.
He knocked politely.
Tap tap tap.
A moment later, the door creaked open. A kind-looking old man with white hair and tired eyes appeared.
"Ah… Shin. You found the medicine?" the chief asked with a gentle smile.
"Of course, old man. I'm the best herb-hunter in the whole village, remember?" Shin joked.
"Hah! If only that were an actual title," the chief replied, amused.
Shin handed him the bowl.
"Drink this. It'll taste horrible, but it'll fix that headache."
The chief nodded, lifted the bowl… and winced as he swallowed it.
"Gah… by the gods… that tastes like rotting leaves and regret."
"That means it's working," Shin said with a smirk.
The chief sat back and sighed in relief.
"Thank you, Shin. You've got a talent… your father would be proud."
Shin lowered his gaze slightly, a shadow of emotion flickering behind his eyes.
"...Thanks."
As he left the chief's house, a faint wind passed by. The trees rustled gently.
But in that quiet breeze… Shin heard something.
A voice soft, distant, like an echo in a cave:
"Why do you serve them?"
He stopped. Looked around.
"...Who said that?"
No one.
Just silence.
He shook his head.
"Tch… maybe I hit my head harder than I thought…"
But inside his chest deep within his soul the ancient king was waking.
And soon....he would speak.
After leaving the village chief's house, Shin didn't go straight home. The sun still shone brightly in the sky, and the cool afternoon breeze danced through the trees.
He walked slowly through the village paths, greeting familiar faces along the way.
"Shin! Can you help carry this water, please?" an old lady called out, struggling with two heavy buckets.
"Of course, ma'am," Shin replied with a gentle smile, jogging over.
He picked up the two buckets with ease — surprisingly easy — but didn't think much of it.
"Thank you, dear. You're just like your mother… always so kind."
Shin smiled softly.
"You still remember her?"
"How could I forget… your mother was the kindest soul in this whole village. Always helping everyone, no matter what."
Shin nodded slowly, heart warming and aching at the same time. But he moved on.
Not far from there, he noticed a group of kids trying to fix a broken fish trap.
"Hold on… you're tying that knot wrong," Shin said as he crouched beside them.
"Eh? Really, Shin?"
"Let me show you."
His hands moved fast and precise, adjusting the net and retying it in a clean, perfect knots something usually only skilled adults knew.
"Done."
"Woooow! You're amazing, Shin! Did your dad teach you that?"
Shin gave a small smile.
"Yeah… my dad was a great fisherman. He taught me a lot."
The villagers watched him with quiet admiration. Though he was an orphan, Shin never caused trouble. He was gentle like his mother, and clever like his father.
But that evening, as he helped an old man push a cart full of stones, something happened.
The cart was heavy — so heavy that it usually took two grown men to move it.
But Shin…
"Ungh—huh?"
With a single strong push, the cart rolled forward on its own.
The old man blinked in surprise. Shin froze.
"Wait… I didn't think I was that strong…"
The old man laughed.
"Looks like you're growing into a real village man, eh, Shin!"
Shin laughed along politely, but inside, he felt… strange.
"That wasn't normal."
"My body… it's never been this strong before."
He looked at his hands. His heartbeat quickened.
And deep within him… the Last King's soul chuckled quietly.
"Your mother's kindness… your father's wisdom… they live in you."
"But now, you carry me as well."
"Prepare yourself, Shin… the world will love you, hate you… and one day, fear you."
That voice echoed again in his chest, in his head, in the corners of his thoughts.
But Shin just sighed and rubbed his temple.
"Ugh… what's this now? I must be tired. Probably losing my mind…"
He shook his head and kept walking, pretending it was nothing.
He figured it was just exhaustion a trick of the mind.
Besides… there were still people who needed him.
He went back to helping the villagers pulling water from the well, fixing a broken stall door, and even teaching a few kids how to read at the small community hall.
"Shin! Come look at my stove! It's smoking again!" a lady shouted.
"Shin, my son's got a fever… do you still have that healing leaf?"
"Big bro Shin, show us that cool knot again!"
And every time someone called his name, Shin came running.
Tired? Of course. But he never said no.
Just like his mother used to.
The sky slowly shifted from orange… to deep red… to purple.
Night was falling.
Shin stood in the middle of the village path, gazing at the sky. He took a long breath.
"Hmm… it's already getting dark. Time to head home."
But just as he turned to leave…
"They don't know who you really are…"
He stopped.
The voice again.
Stronger now. Clearer.
"Don't you find it strange? Your hands are stronger. Your movements faster. You heal quicker than a normal person. Don't you see it, boy?"
Shin clenched his teeth.
"Enough… I'm just tired. That's all."
"No, Shin. You're changing…"
He covered his ears and walked faster, heading home.
But the voice… didn't fade.
Once he reached his house, he collapsed onto his straw mat. He stared up at the wooden ceiling above. His breathing was heavy. Slowly, his eyes began to close.
And as sleep took over him…
He began to dream.
In the dream, Shin stood alone in a vast, desolate field. The sky was black — thunder roared, and purple lightning cracked the heavens.
Before him stood a tall, shadowy figure with golden eyes. It wore a tattered cloak that dragged across the ground. Behind it, stood ancient stone graves… and above, the sky was filled with shifting stars, like watchful eyes.
The figure spoke…
"My heir… at last, your eyes begin to open."