The door opened slowly.
Kling stepped inside.
First came the shadows… then the light revealed the man sitting on the chair. The room was surrounded by trash in almost every corner. Bottles, broken wood pieces, torn cloth, scattered papers — it looked like the room had not been cleaned for months. The air smelled heavy, thick with dust and something rotten.
A voice rang from the darkness.
"Kling… how are you, brother?"
The man forced a smile.
But Kling's furious face gave him a certain uncertainty. Kling was heavily egoed. Pride was his tool. Rage was his true potential. His presence alone changed the temperature of the room.
Kling walked forward and sat on the chair opposite him. His body was still, silent. Expressionless.
"Speak!!! What do you want?"
Mohawk's brown eyes shined faintly under the dim light. He was hiding himself inside a long cloth, only a little bit of his face appearing. His fingers tapped the arm of the chair slowly.
"I want some troops…"
Kling stared at him for a long moment. There was a glass of water on the table. Kling grabbed it and slowly spun it with his right hand, watching the water swirl inside while thinking.
"Why do you want troops? Give me the reason."
Mohawk leaned forward slightly.
"Well… I have found the man who killed your brother. He lives in a village with a blacksmith."
The room became quieter.
Kling looked at the table, not at Mohawk.
"Really?" he said calmly. "But the thing is… he did it because my brother had already done bad things. And when there is good… there is bad."
Mohawk's eyes widened a little.
"So you're not avenging your brother? Is that how you treat your own blood?"
Kling's gaze lifted slowly, sharp and cold.
"First of all… I know what to do with that guy.
That is none of your matter. And most importantly… you need troops to raid villages. I know that for sure. You ran out of money. Simply."
Mohawk felt like he had been caught bare handed. His breath changed.
Before he could respond—
A punch.
Sudden. Brutal.
Mohawk was knocked down from the chair and drifted into the wall, crashing against it. Dust fell from the ceiling.
Kling stood up, adjusting his sleeves.
"I really don't care. Oh man… my spar match has been destroyed by this loser."
He grabbed Mohawk by the shirt and lifted him halfway.
"Let's go and beat someone else too."
He threw him back down. The door opened again with force, and Kling left the room, leaving Mohawk coughing on the floor.
The trash trembled slightly from the slam of the door.
...
Inside the city of training, a wide crowd stood over the ground. Tickets were selling fast. Huge rumbles and laughs echoed through the air, creating a mesmerizing environment for everyone to enjoy and cheer. Warriors trained, swords clashed, students shouted commands. It was a place of ambition.
"You have become quite powerful… Lilith."
An old man with a full white mustache, bald head, and seven-foot tall frame stared at Lilith. His eyes were proud.
Lilith bowed slightly.
"Thank you, master, for making me stronger and better."
The old man laughed deeply.
"It was you who desired to learn and shall do it. Now achieve greatness, for that is what your true purpose was."
Lilith had long hair down his shoulders, a messy fringe across his forehead, and light hairs forming on his face. His physique had changed along with his attitude. He was bold. Sharp. He did not show emotions easily anymore.
"Goodbye… everyone."
He turned his face toward the door.
The door opened.
Beautiful sunlight landed on his eyes… then on his face. For a moment, he closed them slightly. He had experienced human interaction after a really long time. Years of training had isolated him. The training had intensified over time, shaping him into something different.
He stepped outside.
"Oh yeah… the blacksmith department. Let's meet Aron. See how that folk has grown…"
A faint smile appeared.
He walked quickly, his sword remaining and tingling behind his back with each step. The sound of metal against the sheath followed him.
He reached the counter of the blacksmith registration area.
"I'm looking for Aron."
The man behind the desk checked the list carefully. His finger slid down the names once… twice… three times.
"There is none."
Lilith frowned.
"You may have forgotten. He was here with me when we came here together."
The man shook his head.
"I am sorry, but there is no person named Aron entered the blacksmith zone over the past four years."
Lilith's expression changed. A little anger. A little confusion.
"Where have you gone, Aron…" he whispered to himself.
To clear his mind, he entered a nearby restaurant and ordered food.
The food was tasty. He devoured it quickly, still going for more, his hunger from long training sessions still alive inside him.
Then he heard a conversation from the table behind him.
"…Wingman City has been destroyed…"
Lilith froze.
He stood up instantly.
"What did you say?"
The two men looked at him nervously.
"The Wingman City? Tell me about it."
One of them hesitated. But when he saw the sword behind Lilith's back, he spoke quickly.
"Well… the city got into a bombing situation. It killed many citizens. After that, everyone escaped the city. Right now, it's like an abyss. Only the government remains there…"
Lilith's heart tightened.
"Lily…!"
He was worried about his sister.
"And master too…"
He rushed to the counter again, his thoughts rushing faster than his steps.
"Aron… Lily… just be safe, both of you…"
The restaurant man, who had been listening carefully, spoke.
"Aron?"
Lilith stopped.
"I know a kid named Aron. Are you looking for him, buddy?"
Lilith slowly turned his head toward him. His eyes sharpened.
"Yes."
The noise of the restaurant faded in his ears.
For the first time since stepping outside the training city, his journey was about to change direction.