Under a sky where even the moon had gone into hiding,

  the black forest lay drowned in silence.

  Not a single chirp of insects—

  only leaves holding their breath,

  pressed down in air without wind, unmoving.

  Then, breaking that stillness,

  came short, steady footsteps.

  Over crushed fallen leaves,

  a wingbeat like iron being scraped

  left a faint vibration behind.

  A human shape—

  and yet not a trace of presence. A wrongness you could feel.

  Behind him,

  insect wings trembled, slowly.

  “···Not this one either.”

  He glanced at fragments of red stone on the ground.

  A few shards from a jewel he had just smashed were lodged in his palm,

  but there was no sensation—no response.

  No blood. No pain.

  No emotion, either.

  Only nothing.

  He had no memories.

  No idea who made him, or why he existed.

  And yet···

  deep in his mind, an image was burned in.

  A woman in a white robe.

  The red wave that had spread from her body—

  it wasn’t ordinary mana.

  It was the only sensation that had ever shaken

  his heart-that-wasn’t-a-heart.

  Whenever he saw red gems, something in him reacted.

  Anything. Anyone.

  Clack. Clack.

  He stepped forward again.

  “There’s nothing left here.”

  He said it without feeling,

  then slowly changed direction.

  ◇

  After that,

  he drifted toward anything red.

  Crossing a dark cliffline,

  a red glint cut across his vision.

  From a crack in the rocks along the slope,

  dozens of bats burst into the air.

  In that instant,

  bone spurs erupted from his arm

  and tore upward as if piercing the sky.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Bodies split midair,

  and red flesh scattered across mossy ground.

  The bats’ eyes, shining like red jewels—

  were only light caught on a thin film of blood.

  “···Just blood in the skin.”

  With a look of irritation,

  Argas stepped over the corpses.

  Next was a massive plant in the center of a swamp.

  Mud rose to his knees.

  Between thick leaves, red fruit bulged out—too vivid.

  He stopped.

  The fruit held the light,

  wobbling like gemstones.

  “···Could that be it.”

  His hand moved before the thought finished.

  A reaction ahead of awareness.

  Instinct, first.

  As he drew near,

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  the plant lashed out with vine-like tendrils.

  Rip.

  A sharp bone blade split a tendril in half.

  Red sap sprayed out, along with a stench like rotten iron.

  “···Not this either.”

  He gripped one fruit.

  Soft. Warm.

  And hollow inside.

  That reflexive pull toward “red”—

  it was the only clue left

  to a monster without memory.

  The only proof that something had been erased.

  And then, in a dried canyon—

  A giant lizard-like beast

  was crawling slowly up a rock face.

  Along its spine, red crystals jutted out.

  Too close.

  Too similar.

  “···That one.”

  Fff—thud.

  The insect wings behind him flared.

  He dropped like a vertical fall, carving the air.

  Before the beast could even lift its head—

  Thud.

  A bone spur punched through its spine,

  shattering the red crystal into dust.

  The lizard collapsed without a single roar.

  Covered in blood,

  he picked up one remaining fragment.

  For a moment,

  a faint tremor reached his fingertips.

  Then it vanished.

  A false sensation.

  “···Not this, either.”

  He tossed the piece away.

  The stone rolled across the dirt

  and broke into lonely splinters.

  Only then did he murmur, low.

  “Color alone··· means nothing.”

  It wasn’t the gem.

  Not the shine.

  What he needed was the wave.

  That red vibration the woman in white had released—

  somewhere beyond memory.

  Only that

  could shake his heart-that-wasn’t-a-heart.

  Even so, he didn’t stop.

  Not until he faced that wave again.

  ◇

  He didn’t know how long he walked.

  Wandering through a forest where even moonlight was smothered,

  his sense of time blurred away.

  Then—

  from far below the woods, within the dark,

  thick smoke rose, and a scream rang out

  like something tearing.

  “Kiyaaah!”

  Sharp. Broken.

  Too hard to tell if it was a child or a woman.

  He stopped,

  and slowly turned his gaze.

  Beyond a hill, a village was burning.

  Red fire climbed into the sky,

  spilling black smoke.

  “···Noisy.”

  With a blank face,

  he stared at the village being consumed.

  With eyes without feeling,

  he watched the red flames.

  But his gaze didn’t stay on the fire,

  or the screams.

  A goblin mage swung a staff.

  At its tip—

  a red gem was set in place.

  Argas’ eyes trembled, thin.

  The insect wings behind him

  quivered, raising a wind with no presence.

  Fff—thud.

  One beat of wings.

  He began walking toward the village.

  The flames had already swallowed most of it.

  Stone fences collapsed.

  Roofs caved in.

  Between blackened smoke,

  the shapes of the dead began to show.

  A man was shielding his young daughter with his body.

  “Please··· please—just her···!”

  His voice was shredded.

  Behind him, fire wavered like a living thing.

  “Heh-heh-heh. Begging won’t save you.”

  An old goblin mage with a staff curled his mouth into a grin.

  His eyes were full of twisted satisfaction.

  “Is that your last wish?”

  The man bent lower,

  wrapping the girl with everything he had.

  She wasn’t crying.

  She only clung to her father’s back,

  eyes shut, trembling.

  “Time to clean up.”

  The goblin mage lifted his staff, slow, deliberate—

  then drove the tip down.

  Thunk.

  The staff pierced the man’s back.

  “···Dad!”

  The girl’s scream followed,

  but the goblin didn’t care. He raised the staff again.

  “You’re next, little bug.”

  Then—

  Crunch.

  Someone’s step pressed into the rubble.

  One goblin turned.

  “Huh? Who the hell are y—”

  Before the words finished,

  Argas swung his arm.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  Razor bone spurs erupted and skewered three goblins in a line.

  They fell without even reacting.

  “What is that thing?! You wanna die?!”

  “Surround him! We’ve got numbers!”

  Six goblins rushed in with axes and swords.

  Argas didn’t blink.

  From his arm—

  crack, crack—bone spurs flared wider, spreading out.

  In an instant, five goblins

  were thrown in different directions.

  Chest. Throat. Gut.

  Bone struck vital points with perfect accuracy,

  piercing them before they could even scream.

  “Archers! Shoot him!”

  From farther back, a goblin drew a bow.

  Whip.

  The arrow flew and hit Argas square in the shoulder.

  But—

  it snapped.

  His skin was hardened like an exoskeleton.

  The arrow shattered on contact, splintering off the surface.

  “···.”

  Argas launched himself toward the shooter.

  Slash.

  The edge of his hand brushed the goblin’s neck, and—

  the head lifted into the air.

  Silence fell again.

  “What the hell··· that monster···”

  Fear began to spread among the remaining goblins.

  Then—

  a low, sticky voice drifted in.

  “Worth testing. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  At the goblin mage’s staff,

  a red spell circle formed—

  and a fireball shot out.

  KWA—!

  It exploded, swallowing the area.

  But within the blaze,

  a curled shell—an armored carapace—

  slowly unfolded.

  “What is that shell···”

  Argas pushed through.

  Then—

  Fff—thud.

  The insect wings behind him spread wide,

  lifting him into the air.

  In midair, he extended his arms

  and muttered, softly.

  “Bone Rain.”

  From his body,

  dozens of bone needles

  fell from the sky.

  Not arrows. Not spears.

  Just his hunting instinct, made real.

  Thud, thud.

  Puncture, puncture.

  Smash, smash.

  The bone rain pierced through dozens of goblins.

  They dropped where they stood—

  no scream, no time to react.

  “···.”

  The old goblin with the staff

  shuddered and stumbled backward.

  In the burning wreckage,

  the staff with the red stone caught Argas’ eye.

  Everything—

  all of it—entered his sight.

  Clack. Clack.

  Argas walked toward him, wordless.

  “W-Wait! Wait!!”

  The goblin shrieked.

  “I—I surrender!”

  Both hands trembled.

  “If you want something, I’ll give it!

  I’ll offer the whole tribe!

  My power! Information! Anything—!”

  Argas looked at him and spoke.

  “···That red stone. Give it to me.”

  “A-Ah! Yes—this! This, right?!”

  The goblin offered the staff with trembling reverence.

  The red gem at the tip

  shone clearer in the blood-red firelight.

  Argas took it.

  But the vibration he wanted—

  was nowhere.

  “···Not this, either.”

  With a blank face, he snapped the staff in half.

  Crack.

  It broke limp in his hands,

  and the red stone fell to the ground.

  “Wait! I—I’m weak, but I can still help you!”

  The old goblin crawled, begging.

  “Whatever you’re looking for, I—!”

  “Right. You’re weak.”

  Argas lowered his head, quiet.

  “···So.”

  At his feet,

  a thin bone needle rose.

  “So all the more,

  you’re useless to me.”

  Thunk.

  The bone needle pierced the goblin’s chest,

  ending him without leaving a single word behind.

  As the last breath withered,

  the red stone rolling on the ground

  caught a faint glow.

  A night without moonlight.

  Between black clouds,

  a single thread of light fell—briefly.

  He picked up the stone

  and held it up to that light.

  For an instant, it glittered—almost alive.

  Clear and vivid, like fresh blood.

  But the wave from that day,

  the tremor that had shaken him—

  none of it remained.

  He whispered, quietly.

  “···A false light.”

  Without hesitation, Argas turned his back on the village.

  There was nothing here he wanted.

  No sign of anything waking.

  Clack. Clack.

  The insect wings trembled lightly,

  and his steps turned toward the mountains.

  Then—

  Scuff. Scuff.

  Small footsteps.

  Argas stopped.

  He didn’t need to look back to know.

  Someone was following.

  “···Go back.”

  He said it without turning.

  But the footsteps didn’t stop.

  Scuff··· scuff···

  closer, closer.

  He turned, slowly.

  There—

  a girl who had survived the burning village

  was walking toward him in silence,

  holding the red stone he’d thrown away to her chest.

  “That stone means nothing to me. Keep it.”

  Argas said, low and indifferent.

  The girl didn’t answer.

  A thin smile sat on her lips,

  but her eyes were full of tears.

  Argas paused.

  “···Is she smiling.”

  “···No. She’s crying.”

  He muttered without realizing.

  Then—

  the red stone in her arms

  released a pulse—small, so small.

  A red flash.

  It resembled the wave in his memory.

  Argas’ eyes widened.

  Forgotten memory sparked and cut across his mind.

  The white robe. The red wave.

  That moment his heart-that-wasn’t-a-heart had surged.

  “···No. What is this.”

  He stepped in and seized the stone from her hands.

  He gripped it.

  But this time—

  there was no response at all.

  “···As expected. Not it.”

  His gaze slid, slowly, to the girl.

  “Then··· the one who reacted to that stone… was you.”

  Argas was certain.

  This child wasn’t just a survivor.

  A thread—

  leading to the red wave he had been chasing.

  That memory,

  and something else, were connected.

  For a while,

  silence sat between them.

  The fire still scorched the sky,

  and ash from the burning village drifted on the air.

  In that haze,

  Argas spoke low.

  “You··· going to follow?”

  The girl kept her mouth shut

  and nodded, quietly.

  “···Fine. Follow me.”

  She didn’t speak,

  but her small steps began to trail behind him.

  Behind them remained the village turned to ash,

  and the sky stained red.

  Ahead—

  a forest road of endless darkness,

  leading nowhere he could see.