In a small village where fairy tales and legends still hold their power, an ancient well stands in the middle of the square. The villagers believe it is more than just a source of water—it is a gateway to another world, a world shrouded in darkness and magic.
Aric, a brave young knight, is drawn to the mystery of the well after a strange and unsettling event. With a sharp sword in hand and unwavering resolve, he leaps into the abyss, embarking on a journey fraught with peril and adventure. Deep below, he will face mystical creatures, overcome treacherous trials, and unearth the grim secrets buried within that forgotten world...
— "Mom, I want to hear more…" I whispered, my eyes shining with anticipation.
— "Not tonight, sweetheart. It's late, and I have to wake up early for work tomorrow."
— "But… but…" I pouted, disappointment weighing on me, longing to hear the rest of the tale.
— "Don't be sad, my love. Sleep now, and I promise to finish the story tomorrow."
— "You promise? Adults have to keep their promises!" I exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement.
— "I promise, my dear." A gentle hand stroked my hair. "Now close your eyes and drift into dreams. In there, you can travel to any land you wish—lands of beauty, wonder, and peace…"
That was probably a promise Mother could never keep. That night, it had… had—
"HEY! WAKE UP! You idiot, WAKE UP! They're here!"
Tink's frantic scream shattered the eerie silence of the early morning. My eyes snapped open, but my mind was still sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion from too many sleepless nights. My breath came in ragged gasps, my heart hammering against my ribs. Before I could fully grasp what was happening, Tink yanked me up, threw my arm over his shoulder, and hauled me forward with a desperate urgency I had never seen before.
The sun had just begun to rise over the decaying rooftops of Dagakang, casting a pale, sickly light over the uneven cobblestone streets. But there was no warmth in its glow—only the stark illumination of ruin and desolation.
Dagakang had never been a city meant for living. There was no justice here, no order—only predators and prey. The narrow alleys, paved with jagged stones, were strewn with garbage and the dried blood of last night's slaughter. Buildings stood lopsided and crumbling, as if the next gust of wind could bring them tumbling down. The walls bore the scars of endless violence—bullet holes, charred scorch marks, and desperate scrawls left behind by those long forgotten.
The air was thick with the stench of decay—a putrid blend of smoldering embers and rotting flesh from bodies yet to be disposed of. Rotten wooden doors creaked in the icy wind, while bloodstains smeared across the walls served as grim reminders of the carnage that had unfolded mere hours ago. On the rooftops, crows perched in clusters, their shrill cries cutting through the air like an omen of impending doom.
The people of this city were not living souls. They were remnants of despair, moving through the streets in tattered rags, their gazes hollow and unfocused—like ghosts trapped in their own rotting flesh. A corpse on the roadside drew no attention, no sympathy. The only movement it invited was a scavenger's greedy hands, searching for anything of value to pawn for another day's survival.
At night, Dagakang was something worse than a graveyard. The streets fell into an unnatural silence, not out of peace, but fear. Only the hunters roamed then—bounty killers, assassins, creatures that wore human skin but had long lost their humanity. A single footstep in the wrong alley could be the last sound someone ever made.
And this morning, Death itself had come knocking.
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion erupted from the far end of the street, shaking the very foundations of the city. The rooftops trembled, sending flocks of crows scattering into the murky sky. A dense wall of black smoke billowed upward, swallowing the entire road in its choking embrace.
Then, from within that suffocating haze, a figure emerged.
A towering giant, easily two meters tall, stepped forward, his massive silhouette stretching ominously across the cracked stone pavement.
His eyes were bloodshot, gleaming with the hunger of a predator. In his grip, a severed human head dangled lifelessly, fresh blood still dripping, staining the wet cobblestones beneath him. He smiled—a twisted, gleeful grin that bared sharp, beast-like teeth, a smile that belonged to something far beyond human.
A shiver ran down my spine. In this lawless city, nothing was off-limits, yet the sight before me still chilled me to the core.
With a casual flick of his wrist, the giant hurled the severed head onto the ground. A sickening thud echoed as it rolled, leaving behind a crimson trail across the cracked stone. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he pulled a crumpled wanted poster from his coat. His eyes, brimming with murderous intent, locked onto mine.
A cold dread gripped me. He looked… familiar.
I dug through my memories, but something was missing—something deliberately buried. A crucial piece had been torn away, leaving only a void where recognition should be.
"Tink… who is he?" I asked, my voice dry, barely above a whisper.
Tink didn't respond immediately. His lips trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, as if he had just seen a ghost from his worst nightmares. The fear in his eyes was unmistakable.
"B… Boleros…" Tink finally stammered.
The name struck me like a hammer. A crushing weight pressed down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe.
"He… he's a bounty hunter," Tink choked out. "A savage… a butcher who kills without hesitation…"
"MICHEL! TINK!"
Boleros's deep, guttural voice rang out, laced with twisted amusement. "Running is pointless!"
With slow, deliberate steps, he advanced, his steel-toed boots striking the cobblestones with a cold, menacing rhythm. "Be good little prey and surrender. It'll save me the trouble of making this… unpleasant."
A paralyzing chill crawled up my spine. I turned to Tink—his body was rigid, eyes wide with sheer terror.
There was no doubt about it.
We were staring death in the face.
"RUN!" I roared, shoving Tink forward.
But it was useless.
With monstrous strength, Boleros sprang into the air, then came crashing down like an unstoppable force of nature. His massive shadow swallowed us whole, blocking out the dim light of morning.
"Shit... this is it." I gritted my teeth, scanning frantically for an escape.
Nothing.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion erupted just inches in front of us. Stone and debris went flying, dust choked the air. As the haze settled, a terrifying sight came into focus—Boleros, standing directly in our path, his massive frame towering over us like an unbreakable steel fortress.
"He's… too big…" I whispered in horror.
Every step he took sent tremors through the ground, as if he intended to crush everything in his wake. The overwhelming stench of blood filled my lungs, making me gag. Beside me, Tink had gone completely still, his legs shaking so violently that he could barely stand.
We were out of time.
"We have to do something! Now!" I yelled, trying to steady my breath, trying to think.
But deep down, I knew the truth—our chances of survival had never been slimmer.
Tink's lips barely moved, but I caught his whispered words:
"I guess we'll have to use it…"
He reached into his coat pocket, fingers trembling slightly, and pulled out a small vial of dark blue liquid. Without hesitation, he threw back his head and swallowed every last drop.
"Hold on tight, Michel!"
Tink turned to me, his voice brimming with excitement. But something was off—his fear had vanished entirely. In its place was something else… a dangerous exhilaration, as if he had just become an entirely different person.
At that exact moment, Boleros swung his massive blade.
The sword sliced through the air, its sheer force tearing apart the space between us.
"BOOM!"
I squeezed my eyes shut, fully expecting to be cleaved in half.
But… nothing.
I was still standing. Still breathing.
It couldn't be…
I snapped my eyes open, heart pounding. As I had suspected, Tink had dodged the attack—by mere inches. His movements were impossibly fast, his body weaving past the blade with inhuman agility.
"That potion… it has to be that potion..." I muttered, still trying to process what I had just witnessed.
Without a moment's hesitation, Tink hoisted me onto his back and launched forward.
The world around us blurred.
The first rays of morning sunlight stretched over the rooftops of Dagakang, painting the broken city in hues of pale gold. But there was no warmth in that light. It only served to illuminate the ruin and decay—the shattered windows, the bloodstains from last night's slaughter, the hopeless eyes of those who had survived another night in this forsaken place.
The air should have been crisp with the dawn, yet it reeked of dust, smoke, and death.
Tink tore through the labyrinth of alleys, a blur of motion, weaving between slumped vagrants and merchants lazily setting up their stalls.
Behind us, the dust cleared, revealing Boleros's burning gaze.
A furious roar ripped through the morning silence, shaking the city to its core.
Perched atop rooftops, the crows took flight, their wings flapping in chaotic disarray. The disbelief in Boleros's face was unmistakable—his prey had slipped through his fingers. But it was already too late.
Tink was a phantom in the wind, carrying me effortlessly, putting three streets between us before Boleros could even react.
I gasped for breath, my body still wracked with tremors from our brush with death. "Even now… I still can't believe I'm alive…"
The feeling of survival was still so foreign.
Then, cutting through the lingering silence, Tink suddenly asked—
"Hey, do you remember Uncle Loren?"
"Loren…?"
I frowned, racking my brain. The name stirred something in me, a distant echo… but it was buried beneath thick fog, unreachable. "I think I've heard that name before…"
A strange sensation coiled in my chest—both familiar and alien at the same time. Had I met this person before?
Tink let out a chuckle, his tone both amused and knowing.
"So you really don't remember?"
I shook my head, frustration creeping in. "I can't. Was he important?"
"Important?" Tink smirked, a shadow of nostalgia flickering in his eyes. "Uncle Loren was very important to us."
He patted me lightly on the back, his voice shifting into something softer. "Haha… don't think too hard about it, brother. I know you won't remember right away. That event must've been… too much for you."
"What event?"
The question barely formed in my mind before it was drowned by a flood of others—fragments of memories I couldn't grasp, questions that had no answers.
Something… or someone… was keeping me from remembering.
But it wouldn't last forever.
Soon… everything would be clear.