It was the middle of the day in the town of Adelaida, but it looked like night. Thick, dark clouds hung overhead, blocking out the sun.
The crooked streets, through which hardly anything had driven for centuries past, were thick with wet mud that greedily sucked at the boots of whoever was trying to push through.
Buildings of dark stone leaned inward, their few windows showing only faint scraps of firelight.
The town square was the single patch of ground free of mud, but it was no cleaner. The air was a putrid stench of trash, old blood and rotting flesh.
It was snowing, making it the least favorable time to spend outside, but at this time, the place was unusually lively.
A crowd gathered near a stage in the center of the square.
A beggar sat cross-legged at the edge of the crowd, a flat hat pulled low. His thin clothes were soaked through. His body heat melted the snow, only for the wind to freeze it instantly against his bones. Frostbite had already eaten his fingers and cheeks, leaving him a half-living corpse.
Yet no one spared him a look. They had seen too many like him.
Besides it, the crowd was not much better off than the beggar. All of them were thin and pale, staring at the stage. A man with long blond hair was forced onto his knees there. His neck was pressed against a thick wooden log, and his arms were tied tight.
On either side of him stood two Sentients. Their spines were permanently bowed, their eyes were flat, dead black pits. Their skin was pale like vampire's. They were animalistic in nature. Each of their fingers ended in a thick, chipped claw capable of cutting through stone. Patches of tough callus layered their skin.
One Sentient twitched its head and sniffed the air. It was smelling the fear in the crowd. The other one showed its teeth in a scary grin, with spit hanging from its chin.
Even though they looked like monsters, they wore expensive gold robes. The crowd was afraid of them, but they also felt sorry for them. Everyone knew that soon, the guards would turn into full monsters.
On the stage, the Sentient with the hanging spit suddenly snapped his head away from the condemned man. His dark eyes, which hadn't blinked once, locked onto a point behind the crowd.
It was the beggar with the wide hat.
The beggar, who looked like he was dying, stared right back. Suddenly, the frostbite on his hands disappeared. The black, dead skin turned pink and healthy.
A strange, sharp yellow spire appeared in his eyes.
The Sentient on the stage froze. He stopped twitching. He grabbed his huge executioner's axe and lifted it up. He didn't point it at the prisoner. He pointed the sharp blade right at the beggar sitting at the edge of the square.
The crowd turned their heads fast to see what the monster was looking at.
But the spot was empty. There wasn't even a footprint in the mud. It was like nobody had ever been there.
The Sentient tried to growl, but the sound got stuck in his throat. The memory of what he had just seen slid out of his mind like water off a stone.
He looked down at his axe, confused for a second.
"Focus," the other Sentient growled.
The first gave a slow nod. His black eyes fell once more on the condemned man kneeling against the block, as if there had never been a reason to look elsewhere.
The crowd blinked and shuffled their feet, like they were waking up from a dream. They couldn't remember what they had turned around to look at.
The Sentient raised the axe high, his words booming across the square.
"For trespassing the Gate of the Town's Overseer… for blasphemous words against the Golden Ox God… this unnamed shall be executed by beheading."
The axe was brought down in a single, swift motion. The blade bit through flesh and bone. Blood spurted, painting the stage dark red.
The prisoner's head rolled away. His eyes were open, staring at the dark sky with a look of shock.
The executioner wiped his axe clean. His black eyes showed no feelings at all. The second Sentient grabbed the body and the head and dragged them toward the town gates.
The square went totally silent. No one dared to breathe or move. This was the price for breaking the rules. Their faces were blank, but deep down, they felt a dangerous sympathy for the man who had dared to rebel.
They couldn't say it out loud, but many of them were thinking the same thing he did.
Standing at the mouth of the street were three figures. They wore dark martial arts robes cut for ease of movement. On the left arm of every robe, a white panther was stitched into the fabric.
Geom Woo, the silent one, leaned against the rough stone wall of a house. He had long black hair and sharp eyes that scanned the crowd without blinking. His hand rested comfortably on the hilt of a simple, straight sword hanging at his waist.
Do Hyun, the oldest and biggest of the group, gave him a sideways glance. He was tall with broad shoulders. A heavy Naginata was strapped to his back. The long handle and curved blade suited his powerful build perfectly.
"What do you think, Geom Woo?" Do Hyun asked softly.
They had traveled a long way to get here. For days, they had followed a trail written in the stars. It was supposed to lead them to something important. But the moment they got close to this town, the trail had just vanished.
"All I see is some fool getting himself executed," scoffed Mu Gyeol.
Mu Gyeol was the leanest of the three. He cracked his neck, looking bored. He didn't carry a big weapon. Instead, several sharp daggers hung from his belt, ready to be thrown in an instant. "His life wasn't worth a trip out here."
"Shh, Mu Gyeol," Do Hyun hissed. "Keep your voice down."
The three men were from the Snow Panther Clan. Right now, they were in dangerous territory. They had crossed the border into the land of the Southern Moon Clan without permission. If they were caught, it would mean war.
But Mu Gyeol just smirked. He was too confident for his own good. "What does it matter? These guys are too busy staring blankly at their miserable lives to pay us any mind."
Geom Woo watched the crowd impassively, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He didn't share his companions' levity. Something about this execution felt… off.
Do Hyun frowned, narrowing his eyes. "Did you notice something too? I'm telling you, I sensed energy. Powerful energy."
Mu Gyeol rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. They all knew Do Hyun's skills. If he said he sensed energy, there was likely something there. And the stars didn't lie.
As the crowd began to leave, the three men hung back. They scanned the town for any sign of Will threads.
The Will was the mysterious energy that ruled this world. When the stars led you somewhere, it was the Will of Heaven, the highest power of all.
They did a thorough search, but they found nothing.
"See? I told you it was a waste of time," Mu Gyeol said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "We should head back to the clan."
Do Hyun and Geom Woo looked at each other and nodded. They had wasted enough time. Whatever energy had been here, it seemed to have disappeared completely.
As they turned to leave, a gust of wind blew through the square. It swirled the fallen snow into a miniature blizzard.
Geom Woo turned back for one last look, his brow furrowed in thought. He could have sworn he saw something move in the white wind.
…
Meanwhile the Sentient carried the lifeless body and the head of the nameless who has been executed through beheading, reaching the large metallic gates of the town, he entered a passage, entering the massive stone walls surrounding the town.
He hauled the dead weight of the executed man up the stairs, dark blood stained the stairs from countless previous victims.
He reached the top of the wall and without ceremony, tossed the lifeless body and severed head over the side.
Then, The Sentient turned and descended back the way he had come. He would cleanse himself and prepare for the prayers. He had to keep the Overseer happy. Having that thought go through his mind, the Sentient smiled.
Hours later, in the darkness outside the town walls, scavengers picked through the piles of rotting corpses. Crows and ravens pecked at the flesh, tearing strips from the lifeless bodies.
Not only had their clothes been torn off but on some the heads were missing and the flesh was ripped off the bones. These formless masses of flesh and bone bore little or no resemblance to human bodies.
The scent of decay was strong.
Beggars and the desperate huddled among the corpses, rifling through pockets and bags for any salvageable valuables. They didn't care about the dead, only what they could use to survive another day.
A haggard woman wearing rags reached for a fallen purse, her fingers shaking as she unclasped it. She cursed under her breath when she found it empty. Trash or not, someone had beaten her to the loot.
The woman scrambled to her feet and plunged into the sea of bodies, searching frantically for anything that might ease her aching belly.
She looked up at the imposing town walls. The situation she was in was the fate of those deemed unworthy of the Overseer's blessings. She was banned from attending the prayers, banned from the Clergy.
She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten a full meal. The land around the city was barren and lifeless, incapable of supporting crops. The few skills she possessed were rendered useless as she aged and her body withered.
Desperation had driven her to this.
The woman fought back tears as she rummaged through pockets and bags. Her hands shook as she reached for a battered satchel, her hopes rising. But as she opened it, she found only a few crumbs and a small, rusted knife.
She clutched the meager offerings to her chest, a single tear rolling down her gaunt cheek.
A hand clamped around her wrist. She froze.
Her heart leaped. She yanked her arm free, stumbling back, then whirled around, eyes wide with terror.
There, amidst the corpses, a man was moving. His long blonde hair was matted with grime, but his handsome features were unmistakable.
Ragnar gasped, sucking in a lungful of freezing air.