The wind howled across the mountains.
Dark clouds swallowed the stars.
And above the world, the moon slowly turned red.
Villagers gathered outside their homes, staring at the sky with uneasy faces.
An old woman dropped the basket she was carrying.
A hunter tightened his grip on his bow.
Even the animals had gone silent.
The Blood Moon had
No one in the village had seen it before.
No one knew what it meant.
But everyone felt the same thing.
Fear.
The crimson light covered the earth like a sea of blood.
The night felt wrong.
As if the world itself was holding its breath.
Then—
A cry echoed through the forest.
A baby's cry.
The villagers froze.
Another cry followed.
Louder this time.
Coming from the mountain path.
"What was that?"
"Did you hear it?"
"At this hour?"
Several men grabbed torches and began walking toward the sound.
The deeper they went into the forest, the colder the air became.
The crying continued.
Guiding them.
Calling them.
Until they reached a small clearing.
And there they stopped.
Every single one of them.
Speechless.
A baby lay on the ground beneath the Blood Moon.
Alone.
Wrapped in a black cloth.
Not crying anymore.
Just staring at the sky.
The crimson moonlight reflected in his eyes.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The forest felt unnaturally quiet.
As if everything was watching.
One of the men whispered,
"Where are his parents?"
No answer came.
There were no footprints.
No signs of a wagon.
No signs of a struggle.
Nothing.
It was as if the child had simply appeared.
Another villager stepped back.
"We should leave."
The others looked at him.
"What?"
"The Blood Moon… a child appearing out of nowhere…"
His voice trembled.
"This isn't normal."
Fear spread through the group.
Nobody wanted to be the first person to touch the child.
Nobody wanted to take responsibility.
Nobody wanted to risk bringing home a curse.
The baby simply looked at them.
Silent.
Calm.
Watching.
Then heavy footsteps approached from behind.
The villagers immediately turned.
And their eyes widened.
A tall man stood at the edge of the clearing.
Simple clothing.
A traveler's cloak.
A sword hanging from his waist.
His face carried a gentle smile.
Yet the moment the villagers saw him, they straightened their backs.
Not because he demanded respect.
Because he naturally earned it.
"Sir Fang…"
The villagers lowered their heads.
The man glanced toward the child.
Then toward the Blood Moon.
For a brief moment, his smile disappeared.
Something unreadable crossed his eyes.
Then he walked forward.
Past the villagers.
Past their fear.
Past their hesitation.
And stopped before the child.
The baby stared at him.
The man stared back.
The wind became still.
The forest became silent.
The Blood Moon watched from above.
Then the baby reached out a tiny hand.
The man laughed softly.
"A stubborn little one, aren't you?"
The villagers looked horrified.
"Sir Fang, wait!"
"Don't touch him!"
"What if he's cursed?"
The man looked over his shoulder.
His expression remained calm.
"If he is cursed…"
His gaze returned to the child.
"Then he needs someone even more."
Silence fell.
The villagers could not answer.
Slowly, he bent down and lifted the baby into his arms.
The child immediately stopped crying.
A peaceful smile appeared on the baby's face.
The man blinked.
Then laughed again.
"Looks like he's chosen me."
One villager stepped forward nervously.
"What will you do?"
The man looked at the child sleeping against his chest.
His answer came without hesitation.
"I'll raise him."
The villagers froze.
"Raise him?"
"But you don't even know who he is!"
The man smiled.
"No."
He looked toward the Blood Moon one last time.
"But I know what he is."
The villagers waited.
The man gently adjusted the blanket around the baby.
Then began walking home.
"What is he?" one villager shouted.
The man stopped.
A warm smile appeared on his face.
"A child."
And with that, he disappeared into the darkness.
The villagers remained behind.
Staring at the Blood Moon.
Staring at the empty clearing.
Feeling as if they had just witnessed the beginning of something that would change the world forever.
Far above the clouds, the crimson moon shone brighter.
Watching.
Waiting.
And in the arms of the strongest Legend, the child named Leo slept peacefully.
Unaware that his story had begun.