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The training grounds were filled with the sound of footsteps, the breath of fighters, and the shouts of commanders.

Daily drills, relentless discipline—

and one goal shared by all:

to be worthy of bearing the name Kairam.

But one name was never called.

He was never summoned.

No task was given to him.

Severin Duke Kairam…

was not on the list.

And no one asked why.

As if they had forgotten he’d crawled out alive from the River of Red Dawn.

Or perhaps they wished the river had taken him back.

But he did not need them.

From the very first day,

when he stood alone in a far corner of the yard,

he looked at his small body…

and whispered:

> “I won’t live death twice…

at least not before I fight with everything I have.”

He began to run.

Five laps… then seven…

then ten, until his chest burned with a searing heat.

He fell again and again,

yet always rose without a sound.

The next day…

he started counting.

Push-ups, sit-ups, balance drills.

His body was unprepared,

his limbs trembling…

but he continued.

By the end of the day, he was lying flat from sheer exhaustion.

What he was doing exceeded the limits of a ten-year-old—

let alone a child of three.

On the third day,

he left the hounds’ yard.

And slipped into the forest.

There, he finally found what he was looking for—

a quiet waterfall, far from prying eyes.

He sat beneath it.

The water was like knives,

striking his neck and shoulders with force.

But he held his ground,

his eyes half-closed…

as if fighting something unseen.

Pain from yesterday’s training throbbed through every muscle.

It didn’t fade with time—

it deepened with every passing moment.

Still, he refused to yield.

He decided to continue.

No one helped him.

No one guided him.

Yet… he felt he needed this pain.

That he had to endure it—

before becoming something unbreakable.

Weeks passed.

True, his training lacked the measured precision of the family’s regimens.

But its effects began to show on his face.

His steps grew heavier.

His breath, longer.

And in his slight frame, a shadow of toughness began to take shape.

But the most important change…

was in his eyes.

They became calmer…

and far more dangerous.

Like a blood moon glowing in a dark sky—

beautiful and mesmerizing,

yet born from a thirst for blood.

One day,

during a hound-tracking exercise in the forest,

a Shadow Commander asked for a volunteer to be the “moving target.”

No one raised their hand—

except one boy.

Severin.

> “You?” the commander scoffed. “You’d lose to the breeze itself.”

He didn’t answer.

He simply ran.

He moved between the trees like a shadow.

The first arrow missed,

then the second…

and even the tenth.

One of the commanders muttered:

> “Has he… been training without supervision?”

But Severin didn’t stay to hear the answer.

He vanished once more into the edges of the forest,

back to his waterfall.

Yes, his combat experience from his past life had helped—

but it would have been useless without these long weeks of training.

That night…

sitting beside a small fire beneath the falls,

drying his hair with his torn tunic,

he lowered his head to watch the flowing water.

And saw a reflection that wasn’t his own.

A black silhouette wreathed in a halo of hatred.

Its body writhed like smoke,

and from its back hung dark chains that moved in eerie silence.

From its eyes burned a glow—

as if it had gathered every fire in the world

and set them ablaze in a deep, crimson light.

But he did not run.

He did not recoil.

Instead… he smiled.

> “Of course I haven’t forgotten my revenge.”

“I’m angry… I want to scream.”

“But well~… not like I can do that now.”

Severin understood exactly what the shadow was.

It was the reflection of his former self.

That rabid hound, gnawing at its chains.

Even if it was nothing more than a phantom between himself and his mind,

those eyes and that feeling were carved into his heart.

And in the space between firelight and waterfall shadow,

a small smile appeared on his face—

not of joy…

but of a promise.

A promise unspoken…

but certain to be kept.