??? — Unknown
Isaac opened his eyes to a perfect blue sky.
Too perfect.
Soft clouds drifted overhead like a painting. For a second, he forgot to breathe. Then the ache hit—dust in his mouth, grit in his hair, pain buried under his ribs like a stone.
He sat up slowly, blinking against the light.
Flowers.
Exotic ones. Colors he didn’t recognize. Grass that looked healthy in a way Mundus never allowed.
It felt like the top of a mountain… but it didn’t smell like one.
“...Where am I?” he muttered, voice dry.
He pushed himself to his feet, hand on his head, trying to force his memory back into place. The last thing he remembered was the corridor, the amulet, the crack—light swallowing everything.
He exhaled through his nose, bitter.
“Son… don’t touch what you don’t understand.” His voice turned low, mocking himself. “You’ll regret it.”
He hated that the warning sounded real.
Isaac turned in place, scanning for movement. For anyone.
For her.
“Amanda?” he called, then stopped. No answer. Only wind moving through the flowers.
His jaw tightened.
He reached for the bond on instinct—the familiar pull at his back, the constant presence that was never silent for long.
“Yu… do you know where we are?”
Nothing.
He frowned, irritated. “Yu? I’m talking to you.”
Silence.
Isaac’s heartbeat sped up.
“...Yu?”
He tried again, louder. “YU!”
No flash of steel. No hum of a blade forming. No lazy response in his head.
Just the quiet.
His stomach dropped.
“That can’t be…”
He twisted his shoulder, trying to touch the mark—trying to feel anything. The motion hurt. He couldn’t reach it right, like his body didn’t want to obey.
“Yu…?” His voice came out rough. “Where are you?”
He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to spiral.
She’s sleeping. That’s it. She’s always sleeping when she wants to be annoying.
He tried to breathe.
“...Fine. Later.”
Isaac lifted his chin and looked upward, preparing to take off and get a view from the sky.
He jumped.
And immediately slammed back into the ground like a rock.
Pain burst across his cheek.
He stared at the dirt under his hands, frozen.
“No…”
Isaac pushed himself up fast, eyes wide, and looked toward the sun.
It wasn’t normal.
It was massive—too big, too close—burning a deep orange that made the sky feel wrong. Like the world had been built under a different star.
“Yu… wake up.” His voice tightened. “Yu? YU!”
Nothing.
He clenched his teeth and focused on a stone a few steps away.
His eyes flared blue.
He tried to fire.
No beam.
He tried again—forcing the pressure, the familiar snap behind his eyes.
Nothing came out.
His breath turned shaky.
He lifted a hand, palm forward, and tried to call lightning the way his body always did.
A few weak sparks cracked across his fingers.
That was it.
Isaac stared at his hand like it had betrayed him.
“My powers…” he whispered. “They’re… weaker.”
He slowly raised his eyes back to that giant orange sun.
“And what the hell is that…?”
A cold thought slid under his skin.
Yu isn’t answering… like I can’t reach her.
Like the bond was there, but locked.
Like he wasn’t “allowed.”
He shook his head once, angry at himself for thinking that way.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I just need a way out.”
Isaac started walking.
(Some time later)
Heat turned into a weapon.
The world changed too fast—green fields became dry flats, then cracked ground, then a desert that looked endless. The orange sun hammered him from above like it wanted him dead.
Isaac’s shirt was gone. He’d wrapped it around his head, fabric damp with sweat. He moved with stubborn steps, breathing through dust, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion.
He dropped to one knee, chest heaving, and stared into the distance.
Nothing.
No castle. No towers. No roads. No signs of war.
Just emptiness.
He forced himself back up and kept going.
Because stopping felt like dying.
Later
By the time he reached the forest, he was barely dragging his feet.
The trees looked wrong too—leaves shaped like blades, bark dark with strange veins. Plants curled toward him as if they could smell blood.
His vision blurred.
He stumbled onto a slope covered in slick, thick vines.
“Shit—”
His foot slipped.
He slid down hard, scraping stone and roots, losing control as the ground tilted faster and faster.
He hit the bottom with a wet crunch.
Pain exploded in his side.
Isaac gasped, eyes wide, and looked down.
A stake—sharp and jagged—was buried into his waist.
For a second his body locked in pure shock.
Then rage punched through it.
“...AAAAH!”
He grabbed the stake with both hands and ripped it out in one violent motion.
Blood spilled.
His hands shook.
His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.
A thin glow flickered under his skin—weak, unstable.
[Berserk Mode]
Not the full monster.
Not the burning skull.
Just a faint, stuttering light under the surface—like a dying ember refusing to go out.
Isaac’s body trembled as the wound began to close… slowly. Painfully. The kind of healing that reminded him he wasn’t invincible anymore.
He fell onto his back, panting, staring up at the orange sky through the trees.
For a long moment he couldn’t move.
Then he turned his head.
Water.
A lake—clear enough to reflect the sky.
Isaac crawled to it on his elbows, half dragging his legs, and dropped into the water like it was salvation.
Cold wrapped around him.
He floated on his back, breathing hard, letting the water wash blood off his skin.
His eyes stayed open.
Because now he knew something worse than being hurt:
Being stuck.
I can’t keep going like this, he thought, throat tight. I need an exit. A way back. Anything.
A sound reached him.
Faint.
Wheels.
Isaac’s body snapped awake.
He rolled out of the water and crouched behind a large rock at the shore, dripping, breathing shallow so no one would hear him.
The sound grew closer.
A wagon came into view along a narrow path—wooden, simple, pulled by a strange mount that looked tougher than a horse. Two elf women rode in front, relaxed, smiling. A small elf girl sat between them, legs swinging, safe.
They passed by the lake without noticing him.
Isaac watched them like they were a miracle.
People.
Routes.
Civilization.
His pulse spiked.
This is my chance.
He waited until they were a few steps past the rocks.
Then he moved—quiet, low, following through shadows and brush, keeping distance while his wet hair stuck to his face.
His muscles screamed, but he ignored it.
Because the first rule in a place you don’t understand is simple:
Follow the living.
Isaac kept his distance until the wagon stopped.
From the trees, he watched the two elf women unload crates near a small farmhouse. The little girl hopped down and helped—tiny hands, big effort. No guards. No traps. No hidden blades that he could see.
He took a slow breath, then stepped out of the shadows.
The women noticed him instantly.
They pulled the child back and spread out without saying a word—wide stance, tense shoulders, eyes sharp. Not soldiers… but not helpless either.
Isaac raised both hands, palms open.
“Please,” he said, voice hoarse. “I just need help. I’m lost. I haven’t eaten or drank in a while.” He glanced at the girl, then back to the women. “If you can’t help… at least tell me if there’s a city nearby. I swear I won’t hurt you.”
The taller one studied him, silent for a long second.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Isaac.”
The two women exchanged a quick look.
Then the taller one relaxed—just a little.
“Sorry,” she said. “For the way we reacted.” She placed a hand on her chest. “I’m Umi. This is Mini.”
Mini gave a short nod. “Nice to meet you.”
“And the little one,” Umi added, gentler now, “is my daughter. Anya.”
Anya peeked from behind Mini’s leg, eyes wide, half-curious, half-ready to run.
Isaac nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
He glanced at the crates, the house, the simple life… and felt his chest tighten. It looked too normal for a world that had just swallowed him.
Umi motioned toward the house. “Come. You need food.”
Isaac hesitated, then nodded and followed.
(Some Time Later)
Hot water ran over Isaac’s head.
He let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. “Ah… that’s good.”
He scrubbed sand out of his hair, out of his skin, out of places he didn’t want to think about. For the first time since waking up under that orange sun, his shoulders dropped.
Then—
A faint sound. Like a scrape. A shift.
Isaac froze.
“Someone there?”
He tried to focus, tried to force his old vision to flare.
His eyes glowed—weakly.
Nothing.
No beam. No clarity. Just tired eyes and frustration.
He clicked his tongue, shook his head, and finished quickly.
Outside the wash room, folded clothes waited for him—clean, simple, and somehow new.
He dressed and stepped out.
Umi, Mini, and Anya were standing there like they’d been waiting the whole time.
Umi smiled, warm now. “See? Doesn’t it fit you well? Mini made it.”
Anya lifted her hand proudly. “I helped!” she said, like it was the greatest job in the world.
Isaac couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at his face. “Thank you. All of you.” He bowed his head slightly. “I’ll repay you. I promise.”
Umi waved it off. “No need. We’re helping you.” She pointed toward the table. “Come. Eat.”
They sat together.
Real food. Warm. Simple. Isaac ate slower than he wanted to—trying not to look desperate—but each bite felt like his body was remembering how to live.
He watched them between bites, then finally spoke.
“…What is this place called?”
The three of them looked at each other, then back at him—almost amused by how lost he sounded.
Umi answered first. “My farm. Near the capital.”
“Capital?” Isaac repeated.
Mini nodded. “Yes. It’s called Lunavale.”
Isaac blinked. “Is it far from here?”
“Two days,” Umi said. “Why? You plan to go?”
Isaac nodded, eyes lowering to his plate. “Yeah.”
Anya grabbed his sleeve with both hands.
“But already?” she asked, small voice, disappointed like he’d broken a promise.
Isaac looked down at her and softened without meaning to. “Yeah, little one.” He tried to smile. “I have to. Tonight.”
The room went still.
Mini’s face snapped up. “No.”
Isaac paused mid-bite. “What?”
Mini’s voice rose, sharp with fear. “NO.”
Umi reached out, calming her with a touch. “Sorry,” Umi told him. “She didn’t mean to scare you.”
Isaac set the food down slowly. “Why? What’s wrong with going at night?”
Umi’s face turned serious. Not dramatic. Not theatrical. Just… real.
“Because something hunts out there,” she said. “It sleeps in the morning.”
Mini swallowed. “And it hunts at night.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “A creature?”
Mini nodded, voice lower now. “No one has ever seen it up close. They say it’s… strong.” She looked away. “And if it finds you, you die fast.”
Isaac leaned back slightly, thinking.
“Why only at night?” he asked.
Umi shook her head. “No one knows.” She sighed, and the sigh carried years of living under a rule they didn’t understand. “I don’t know what we’d do without our queen.”
Isaac’s gaze sharpened. “Queen?”
Umi nodded toward the direction of the capital. “In Lunavale. The Queen of Lunavale.” Her voice softened with respect. “She watches over us. Keeps things from getting worse.”
Isaac stared at the table, mind moving.
A queen. A capital. Order. Answers.
He looked up. “What do people call this world?”
Anya answered before anyone else could, proud again. “New World.”
Umi stood and started gathering plates, then pointed gently toward the hallway. “Anya. Bed.”
Anya pouted but obeyed, dragging her feet like it was unfair.
Isaac stood too. “I’ll wash.”
Umi blinked. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Isaac said simply.
She let him.
He washed dishes in silence while Umi dried them, and Mini watched the windows like she expected teeth in the dark.
Isaac’s mind stayed on one thing:
Lunavale.
And the queen who “kept things from getting worse.”
If anyone knew what that orange sun meant… it would be her.
