Beneath a vast, beautiful green meadow and a clear blue sky, a gentle breeze rustled through the grass. A boy lay there, eyes closed.
Suddenly, he stirred, trying to wake. Pushing himself up, he sat on the grass and yawned.
"W-what... Where am I?"
"I was with Moth-... Mother!"
Memories flooded back: his mother's sacrifice, his father's death. Tears streamed down his face. Kyle was still just a child who had
lost everything. Rakhal's soldiers had destroyed his village, slaughtered his neighbors and friends. His life was torn apart.
"What should I do?!"
He thought: 'I'm still weak. Rakhal isn't someone I can kill. Revenge against him or his soldiers won't change anything—they just follow orders.'
"I don't know... I don't know!" Kyle wept for his fate.
---
Hours Later
Kyle stopped crying. Though lost, he knew tears solved nothing. He scanned the meadow—nothing but wilderness. Yet something
caught his eye: a brick hut with a wooden roof and a stone chimney, surrounded by a simple fence. Two wooden chairs sat in its
garden.
"Damn it. I don't know where I am, just this strange hut..."
Despite its isolation, he had no other choice. Approaching slowly, he hesitated: "Should I knock? Or enter?"
'It's not like anyone lives here.'
He crossed the fence and reached the door. The knob wouldn't turn.
"What?!"
A voice from inside froze him:
"Who's there?"
Shock deepened when he realized it belonged to an old woman—calm, not monstrous.
"Kyle, come in. I've been waiting."
Kyle paled. How did she know his name? The lock clicked. Escape was pointless—where would he run?
"O-okay," he whispered, bracing for death as he opened the door.
Inside, an old woman with snow-white hair and void-black eyes sat on a wooden couch, sipping fragrant tea.
"You're late, Kyle."
"Who are you?! How do you know my name?!"
"Hmm. Knocking on doors and demanding names? Where are your manners, boy?" She smiled.
"S-sorry... Grandma."
"You brat!! Who are you calling 'grandma'?! I'm still young and beautiful!"
"Wh-what?!"* Her playfulness stunned him.
"Sit. I'll tell you what you need to know."
He reluctantly took a seat. She offered biscuits. He refused at first but gave in to hunger.
"First, call me Lady Valdaritha, the Beautiful Valdaritha, or the Fairest Queen—all suit me." She beamed proudly.
Kyle forced a smile.
"Second, this place is your soul. We're in its nucleus."
"What?!" He shot up.
She covered her ears. "Must you scream?"
"But I haven't gained powers or formed a soul nucleus! How?!"
"Precisely why we're here," she said gravely.
"I've never heard of gaining powers like this... Wait! Are you a witch? Did you eat children?!"
"Foolish boy!! Silence! What nonsense!" She struck his head with her cane.
"Ow! That hurt!" he yelped.
Calming, she fixed her dark eyes on him. *"You're special. You're the Heir."*
"Heir?"
"The Heir who'll bring peace... or ruin. Though fate decides, it rests on you."
"But how?! I'm only nine!"
"Age and time... I hate them because of someone. But will you stay nine forever? Your time will come."
Kyle was lost. 'Heir? Peace? Ruin? Fate? What does it mean?'
"Enough talk. Heir, give me your hand."
He resisted, but an invisible force pulled his arm forward.
"W-what?!"
"Don't worry. This will hurt... a little."
Her chest glowed black. Sparks—like dark fire—leaped from her hand to his. Agony exploded through him, as if a beast were slowly
devouring his arm.
She released him. Kyle crumpled, writhing. His arm wasn't just burned—it was gone, consumed into ash. The fire spread to his
torso. He couldn't scream; the flames had scorched his throat.
'Was my parents' sacrifice for nothing? Will I die here?'
As darkness swallowed his vision, her voice echoed coldly:
"Heir, may you survive your journey... Farewell, Kyle Iran, Heir of Ruin."
Then—nothing. No pain, no light. Only cold, empty void.
'Is this death? ...Better than I expected.'
---
Elsewhere
Kyle woke near a tree in a dense forest. His skin felt newborn, but his clothes were tattered.
"Am I in hell?!"
He touched his face—warm. Alive.
"Impossible! I'm alive!!" He jumped, shouting with joy.
Memories returned: the hut, the old woman, the black fire.
"Was it a dream? But the pain..." A chill gripped him. It felt too real.
Suddenly, he whispered experimentally:
"Status Window."
Translucent words materialized in the air. Kyle stared, heart pounding. His world had changed forever.