I keep walking, unable to stop myself from casting nervous glances over my shoulder. The snow crunches under my worn boots, a dry, monotonous sound that echoes through the oppressive silence of this frozen forest. 

A sickening feeling twists my gut, an instinctive fear I can’t shake: I feel like I’m being followed. 

 
That shadow I glimpsed a few minutes ago, lurking between the bare trees—was it a monster? Honestly, I’m not even sure anymore. 

It’s been days since I started drifting through this desert of cold and snow, lost, exhausted, adrift. 

 
My clothes are soaked with sweat and melted snow, and my numb fingers, tucked inside torn gloves, grip the rusty hilt of my sword convulsively. 

 
I pray to all the gods—those of Lilyani, those of Amérance, any who’ll listen—that Captain Zodiac finds me. 

 
But a bitter thought crosses my mind: Will he even look for me? 

 
I’m just a simple soldier, one face among countless others in his army. He probably doesn’t even know my name… or that I exist at all. 

Leyart. That’s all I am: a broken man, a survivor with nothing left to lose, except the faint hope of seeing my wife again, back in Nébiatine. 

Night begins to fall, swift and merciless, wrapping the forest in an almost tangible darkness. 

 
I can’t keep walking in these conditions—my legs tremble with exhaustion, and the cold bites at my skin through the rips in my cloak. 

 
Down below, I spot a small cave nestled between two massive rocks, barely visible under the layer of snow covering its entrance. It’ll be my shelter for tonight. 

 
I descend carefully, slipping on a patch of ice, and settle inside. 

 
The space is cramped, hardly big enough for me to lie down, but it offers protection from the howling wind rattling the branches outside. 

I set my bag on the ground, pull out my last bottle of alcohol—a harsh, gut-burning liquor I’ve saved for the worst moments—and light a fire with the few dry twigs I gathered along the way. 

 
The flames flicker weakly, casting dancing shadows on the damp walls of the cave, and I take a swig of the burning liquid, hoping it’ll warm me up even a little. 

 
A heavy silence settles around me, broken only by the crackling of snow clumps falling from the branches above. 

 
It feels as if life itself has abandoned this place, as if the forest is holding its breath. 

Suddenly, a thick fog rises, so dense I can’t see more than six feet beyond the cave’s entrance. 

 
I frown, an old lesson from military school flashing through my mind: this fog isn’t natural. It’s the residue of Mana, a corrupted energy that’s been saturating the air ever since the magical barrier protecting Nébiatine collapsed. 

 
I force myself to breathe slowly, to calm the frantic beating of my heart. 
It’s nothing, I tell myself. Just Mana residue. Nothing more. But despite my efforts, the dread grows, and I grip my sword a little tighter. 

Minutes pass, and I stay on high alert, my senses sharp. 

 
I peer into the darkness beyond the entrance, my eyes straining to pierce the fog. 

 
I’m starting to get scared—this atmosphere is eerie, suffocating, as if the forest itself is whispering threats to me. 

 
What if the monsters that slaughtered my squad have followed me? No, that’s impossible. 

 
For days, I’ve taken every precaution to cover my tracks: I’ve walked through frozen streams, avoided paths, wiped my footprints in the snow with a branch. 

Yet doubt creeps in, and with it, memories of that cursed night. The screams of my comrades, blood splattering the pristine snow, the guttural growls of the creatures… I shake my head, banishing the images. 

 
Not now. Not here. 

Suddenly, the silence shatters with the sound of footsteps. 
Slow, deliberate, as if something is approaching with caution. 
My heart races, and I leap to my feet, drawing my sword in a fluid motion. Those sounds aren’t human. It’s not the snap of a branch or the heavy step of a lost traveler. It’s something else—something more primal, more… beastly. 
I hear them getting closer, and a cold sweat trickles down the back of my neck. 

I’m left with two choices: stay in the cave, where I risk being trapped if the creatures are numerous, or step outside and try to flee if things get dire. I don’t hesitate for long.  

If I’m going to die, I’d rather go down fighting. 
I ignite my sword with fire magic—a technique I learned at military school, but one I struggle to control in my exhausted state. 
The flames dance weakly along the blade, casting a reddish glow around me. 

I rush outside, adrenaline surging through my veins, and come face-to-face with a Krampus. 

 
The creature is massive, over six feet tall, its grotesque silhouette illuminated by the flames of my sword. Its twisted horns gleam in the light, and its claws—long as daggers—scrape the frozen ground. 

 
Its red eyes fix on me with savage hunger, and a low growl escapes its fang-filled maw. 

Krampus are said to prefer hunting children—that’s the tale told in the villages of Lilyani. 

 
But when faced with an isolated adult, they don’t hesitate. This one is a seasoned predator, and I know I stand no chance in a fight of brute strength. 

 
Its knotted muscles could crush me in an instant, and its claws would tear me apart in less than five seconds. 

 
Worse, it’s fast—far too fast for a creature of its size. 

Damn it, if only the barrier hadn’t collapsed, I think, a bitter acid burning my throat. 
If it had held, I wouldn’t be here, running like a rat in this cursed forest. 

The Krampus charges, covering the twenty meters between us in barely a second. It lunges at me, its claws aimed at my throat, and I close my eyes, resigned. 

 
This is it for me, I murmur inwardly. I’m going to die here. 

A fleeting thought crosses my mind: my wife, back in Nébiatine. She’s strong, a fighter. 
She’s with Captain Zodiac, the man no one can defeat—not even this damned Krampus. She’ll make it. She has to make it. 

But I don’t feel the pain I expected. No claws sinking into my flesh, no blood gushing from my throat. 

 
Instead, there’s a dull thud, followed by a bestial howl. I open my eyes, and the scene before me is a crimson nightmare. The snow around me is red, drenched in blood, and a torn-off arm lies a few meters away, its shattered bones jutting from the flesh. 
Then the pain hits—brutal, like a hammer blow to my mind. I look down in horror: my left arm is gone. Blood spurts from my shoulder, and every movement rips a scream of agony from my throat. 

I turn toward the Krampus as best I can, tears blurring my vision. It’s no longer looking at me. Its attention is fixed on something else. 

 
“A portal?! Here?!” I whisper, incredulous. 

 
A swirling blue vortex opens in the air, a glow of pure energy cutting through the darkness. 

 
At that moment, I think I lose consciousness, my strength abandoning me under the shock and pain. My last memory is hazy: Captain Zodiac’s face above me, blurred but recognizable, surrounded by blue portals opening in a cascade. 

 
And then, blackout. 

When I come to, I’m in a bed, warm. Soft sheets brush against my skin, and the smell of burning wood fills the air—a fire crackles somewhere in the room. 

 
I blink, disoriented, and see my wife sitting at my bedside, her face streaked with tears. 
 

“I’m… alive?” I murmur, my throat dry. 

 
She answers between sobs, her voice trembling: 

 
“Mmph… Yes… Mmph… Captain Zodiac came… Mmph… to find you.” 

 
A faint smile tugs at my lips. I don’t feel the pain in that moment—a light layer of Mana envelops me, likely a healing spell soothing my suffering. 

I try to sit up, wanting to embrace my wife, but a strange emptiness stops me. My left arm… it’s gone. 

 
“What? I lost my arm?!” I exclaim, my voice breaking, as flashes of that fateful night in the forest flood back: the Krampus’s attack, the searing pain, the blood on the snow. 

 
Well, living without a left arm won’t be easy, but it’s better than losing my life… or so I tell myself for comfort. 

At that moment, the door opens, and Captain Lancelot Zodiac steps into the room. 
His presence and charisma are those of an emperor, not merely a king. Shoulder-length blond hair gleams in the dim light, his piercing green eyes scan the room with cold intensity, and his muscular frame—about six feet tall—is accentuated by light armor in the colors of the Zodiac Clan: turquoise blue and gold. 

 
A smile lights up his face, a smile that could make any princess of Démathlys blush, but in this moment, it’s tinged with unyielding determination. 

Rather than using his charm to shine in royal courts, he’s here in Nébiatine, fighting alongside us to retrieve a mysterious object—an artifact Dame Rikami claims could change the fate of the entire world. 

 
Yet we still don’t know what it is, and that uncertainty weighs on us all. 

Captain Zodiac gives me a look, followed by a genuine smile, and I can see a breath of relief pass through his eyes. 

 
“Leyart, I’m so relieved,” he says, his deep voice resonating in the room. 

 
“You survived. You’re a proud warrior. I’m truly sorry about your squad.” 

 
Wow! The Captain knows my name! His charisma is so overwhelming that I feel both honored and intimidated. 

 
“Thank you, Captain…” I reply, my voice hoarse. 

 
“I did my best, but I’m not as strong as you. I never could’ve won, even if I fought that battle a hundred times.” 

 
Lancelot laughs, a sincere laugh that rings like a note of light in the darkness. 

 
“Don’t worry,” he says, placing a reassuring hand on my uninjured shoulder. 

 
“From now on, you won’t need to fight on the front lines. When we return to Lilyani, I’ll make you a warlord.” 

 
“Thank you, Captain…” I murmur, gratitude gripping my heart. 

He asks me to recount what happened, and I set to the task, describing everything I can still remember: the forest, the Krampus, the horror of that night. 

 
“So, they’re here,” he says, his tone turning grave. 

 
“They’ve found us… I need to make a quick trip to Lilyani. I’ll bring back reinforcements. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

 
Before my eyes, he creates a portal—a magnificent turquoise blue glow, the signature color of the Zodiac Clan. 

 
The Zodiacs are a family that has ruled Lilyani for generations, their spells always tinged with that vibrant blue. 

 
But Lancelot excels in a rare magic: teleportation through portals, a power that lets him travel anywhere in an instant. It’s fascinating, almost unreal, and I wonder why he was never named king, unlike his brother—a man despised by the people, lacking in strategic talent or martial prowess. 

Lancelot is a member of the Big Four, the four greatest adventurers the world has ever known. Maybe one day, he’ll take the crown… I hope so for him. 

 
A few minutes later, the bells of Nébiatine ring out, signaling his return with reinforcements. 

 
I get up, wincing under the pain—my broken ribs and the gashes on my chest remind me of their presence—but it’s bearable thanks to the healing magic. 

 I make my way to the window of the room, curious to see the Captain with his reinforcements. 

Outside, Lancelot stands at the center of the village, his long blue-and-gold cape billowing in the wind, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Beside him is a woman, shorter than him—probably around five foot seven, but taller than most women I’ve met in my life. 

 
She’s blonde, with striking green eyes, dressed in a fitted emerald gown with a katana at her waist. 

 
There’s no doubt: it’s Dame Rikami, the second member of the Big Four, and according to most, the most powerful of the four. 

 
Her aura is overwhelming, even from this distance. 

 
I feel a pressure in the air, a shiver running down my spine just watching her through the foggy window. 

The civilians around them murmur, uneasy, and I understand why: Dame Rikami’s Mana is almost tangible, though legend has it no one has ever seen her use magic. 
How is that possible? How can a woman with no apparent magic exude such power? 
With Lancelot and Rikami on our side, how could we possibly lose the battle to come? 

 
“That’s impossible,” I whisper, a fragile hope blooming in my chest.  

“Victory is assured.”