The forest breathed a dense darkness, as if the night were not merely an absence of light, but a living substance accumulating between the ancient trees. Amidst this gloom stood a man, his face hidden behind a black mask of tanned leather. Engraved upon the forehead was a circular yellow symbol that shined with the pale hue of ivory. The glow was faint, like the rhythmic breathing of a nocturnal bird, barely visible except to those who knew exactly where to look.
"The Forest of Eternal Whispers..." the man whispered to himself. His voice was slightly raspy, like a stone being dragged over dry earth. "How many missions have I spent in this cursed place?"
He knew this forest well. Here, the trees did not shed their leaves seasonally; instead, they withered slowly over decades, emitting a faint scent reminiscent of decaying jasmine. That scent was the first thing he had noticed when he entered two hours ago—a fragrance that deceived visitors into believing the place was peaceful.
He advanced toward the dilapidated structure. It wasn't just a hut or a house—it was the remains of a small palace, or perhaps an ancient temple. The stones were of a type no longer quarried for centuries, dating back to the Old Empire. How did they get here? And who had built this?
"What brought a ruin like this to the heart of such a remote forest?" he murmured, running his fingers over the cold wall. The stone was unnaturally smooth, as if a tongue licked it every night.
He approached and slowly pushed the door open.
The creak wasn't long, but it pierced the silence of the forest like a muffled scream.
It wasn't the expected chaos that greeted him.
A faint blue glow emanated from stones embedded in the walls at a height of two meters, arranged in a complex geometric pattern. The blue light didn't just illuminate—it danced, like frozen flames. The floor was made of black marble, strangely clean, devoid of dust or fallen leaves. On the walls were faded gold lines that had once formed a grand mural.
"Hmm... who cleans an abandoned building in the core of a forest?" Zero spoke calmly, his voice echoing in the empty hall, returning to him like a distorted ghost.
He already knew someone was there. The scent of decaying jasmine was weaker inside the building, replaced by a faint metallic tang—the smell of old copper and dried blood.
"Who are you?!" a gruff voice barked from the darkness of a far corner, where a stone staircase led to the basement.
A tall man stepped into the blue light. He wore a simple brown coat, but Zero immediately noticed two things: the man's boots were pristine despite the mud outside, and his right hand was hidden inside his coat, gripping something.
"An explorer... but it seems I've lost my way," Zero replied, tilting his head slightly so the blue light hit the yellow symbol on his mask. It was a recognized signal among certain factions—an indirect declaration of affiliation.
The tall man paused for a moment. His eyes—one a natural brown, the other amber-yellow like a wild cat's—scrutinized the symbol before returning to the mask. "An explorer in the Forest of Eternal Whispers? Without equipment? Not even a backpack?"
"Stolen," Zero said simply. "I was attacked by Shadow Wolves three days ago. I barely survived."
A good lie. Shadow Wolves were real in this forest, and their attack left a distinct scent on the victim for weeks—the very scent Zero had applied to his clothes before entering.
"Did you come alone?" the man asked, his heavy footsteps drawing closer. He stood well over two meters tall, his shoulders unnaturally broad.
"No, I was with a group." Zero paused, as if remembering in pain. "We were separated by certain circumstances, then I stumbled upon this building. I wanted to spend the night... if you'll allow it?"
The man stared at him for a long time, then asked, "And your name?"
"Zero," the masked man answered, instinctively reaching up to touch the yellow symbol on his mask.
"Zero..." the stranger repeated, as if tasting the letters. "A strange name for an explorer."
"The name my parents gave me is even stranger," Zero said, his tone carrying a slight defensive edge, as if this were a sensitive point.
The man nodded, a smile playing on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "Very well, Zero. Come, share some food with me. Hunger in this forest kills faster than any beast."
The two walked to a side room. This room was different from the main hall—here, the chaos was real. Scattered papers, broken vials, and the smell of burnt dry grass. In the center was a wooden table with the remains of previous meals.
The man brought out stale bread, slightly moldy cheese, and a cup of dark berry juice. "All that's left," he said with an apologetic grin.
Zero smelled the juice first—the scent of sour berries, but beneath it... the scent of bitter almonds. Cyanide. A small dose, but enough to kill an ordinary man in ten minutes.
"Thank you," Zero said, lifting the cup. Before drinking, he touched the rim to his lips and feigned a swallow. The liquid never touched his tongue—a technique learned in his first year of training.
As he pretended to eat under his host's watchful gaze, he heard a strange rustling from outside the room. Not the rustling of leaves, but the sound of scales on stone. A snake? Or something else?
"Sleep here tonight," the man said after Zero finished his charade, pointing to a small room with a single oil lamp. "But remember... this stay is for one night only. The dawn must take you with it."
The man closed the heavy wooden door. Zero heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Locked from the outside.
It wasn't a surprise. What was surprising was the faint whisper he heard from behind the door before the man walked away:
"...The yellow symbol... could it be?"
Hours later, moments before dawn, the bedroom door opened with a faint creak. The man entered with measured steps, treading as softly as a cat.
In his hand gleamed a long blade made of a black material that barely reflected light—a Shadow Knife, a weapon crafted only by the Shadow Hunters of the northern mountains.
He approached the bed where Zero's form appeared to be sleeping under the quilt. The man stopped and looked at the black mask resting on a side table. The yellow symbol was glowing stronger now, as if generating its own light.
"I'm sorry... but you must die," the man whispered in a voice as cold as ice. "There is no room in my plans for a wandering observer."
Then the knife descended swiftly toward the sleeping chest—
Thump!
"Huh?" The man's hand jerked. "Pillows?!"
The knife was buried in a double pillow under the blanket. No blood, no scream, nothing.
"How—?"
"What? Did the poison not work? Or did you think I'd actually sleep after being locked in?" The voice came from the dark corner of the room.
Zero was standing there, leaning against the wall. In his hand, a silver watch swayed, but it wasn't just a watch—it was open, and inside, a small mirror reflected the man's image.
"The Mirror of Truths," Zero said quietly. "It reflects true intentions. And the color of yours... is a deep crimson."
The man leapt back, away from the deceptive bed. He held the Shadow Knife before him, his eyes widening. "...You knew from the start?"
"I knew the moment I saw your yellow eye," Zero said, his right hand drawing from behind his back. He wasn't holding a weapon, but an open palm. Above his palm, a pale blue glow began to form, taking the shape of a small energy sword. "Cat eyes—the trait of the 'Runaways' faction. Thieves, murderers, and kidnappers of children."
"So you know." A strange smile spread across the man's face. "Then you know why you can't take me alive."
He began to back toward the broken window, but his eyes weren't on Zero—they were on the mask on the table. "The yellow symbol... you are from the 'Lyad'?"
"Yes." Zero's voice was flat. "And do you know the oath of the Lyadians? To protect those who cannot protect themselves."
The man suddenly jumped from the window!
But Zero was faster. His leap wasn't human—it was as if the ground beneath his feet exploded with an invisible thrust. He crossed the room in a flash, his hand gripping the window ledge while the man was still in mid-air.
Outside, under the faint moonlight, something strange happened.
Two rapid bulges appeared on the man's back, then his coat tore open. Wings sprouted—not beautiful like a bird's, but leathery, tattered at the edges, with protruding veins throbbing. The wings flapped powerfully, making a sound like torn sails.
"A Winged Runaway," Zero said, standing on the window ledge. "Rare. Expensive in the hidden slave markets."
"You won't catch me!" the man screamed, beginning to soar high.
Zero didn't fly. Instead, he raised his hand, and the small blue sword above his palm began to extend, transforming into a long chain of blue energy. He launched it!
The blue chain coiled around the winged man's ankle. Then, with staggering strength, Zero yanked him toward the ground like a puppet.
The man crashed onto his back, a sound like breaking bones echoing out. His wings folded over him unnaturally, and he began to scream in agony.
"You... you're at least a Third-Degree Lyadian!" The man vomited blood, his yellow eyes wide in genuine terror now. "Why... why would they send someone of your level after a simple thief?"
"A simple thief?" Zero walked toward him slowly. The blue chain vanished from his hand. "You are 'The Wing-Breaker.' A kidnapper specializing in gifted children. You sell them to laboratories searching for supernatural talents."
Zero stood over him. "A month ago, you took a boy from the Willow Village. Eight years old. He could move things with his mind. A rare talent."
The man tried to crawl backward. "He... he was for sale! His parents sold him!"
A lie. Zero knew it was a lie. He had seen the boy's father. He saw his eyes, red from weeping. He saw how he clutched his son's clothes—the clothes they found in the forest, stained with the child's blood.
"Don't lie," Zero said, his voice dropping lower, becoming more dangerous. "When you lie... my mask's symbol begins to glow."
The man looked at Zero's mask. The yellow symbol was shining now like a candle in pitch darkness.
"What... what is that symbol?" the man whispered.
"A promise," Zero replied simply. "A promise that justice will come, even to the farthest reaches of the dark forests."
Then he leaned down. "Now... tell me. Where is the boy's body?"
The man trembled. "There is... there is no body."
Zero froze. "What?"
"The child... I didn't keep him. They... took him from me." His eyes were wide, filled with real horror now, not just fear of Zero.
"They?"
"The Lord... and his followers." The man's words were staggered. "They paid three times the price... said they needed him for Project 'Renaissance'."
Zero felt a chill run down his spine. Project Renaissance. A name he had heard only once, in a secret file he was never supposed to read. A clandestine Imperial project for collecting rare supernatural talents.
"Why are you telling me this?" Zero asked, his suspicion growing.
"Because..." the man began, then suddenly—his yellow eyes turned completely black, as if filled with heavy oil. "Because it was part of the message."
His voice changed—it became deeper, hollow, as if echoing from a well.
"Greetings, Zero of the Lyad faction," the new voice spoke through the man's mouth. "We knew you were searching for us. So, we came to you."
Then the man's mouth began to move unnaturally, words pouring out while the man himself seemed to be trying to scream, as if something was controlling him by force:
"The child is fine. He is now part of something greater. Stop your search, or you too will become... part of the Project."
Zero leapt back, his hand glowing with blue energy again. "Who are you?"
"We are the future," the voice said. Then suddenly—the man's eyes snapped back to their yellow color, and he began to gasp like a fish out of water.
"What... what was that?" the man whispered, terrified of himself.
Zero looked at him. The man wasn't faking—he was a victim himself.
But that changed nothing.
"Where is their headquarters?" Zero demanded.
"I don't know! I swear! They were... they were shadows! They appeared from nowhere, took the child, and left!"
Zero closed his eyes for a moment. The image of the boy's father returned to him. The man he had made a promise to.
Then he opened his eyes.
"Forgive me," Zero said.
Not to the man. To the boy's father.
Because his promise would not be fulfilled today.
Minutes later, Zero stood outside the building. In his hands, he carried two things:
First: The preserved head of the winged man, treated with chemicals to prevent decay. He would deliver it to the boy's father as proof of the culprit's death... even if it wasn't compensation for the loss of a son.
Second: The man's right eye—the yellow one. Preserved in a special liquid. The eye that had seen "Them." The eye that might carry within it a trace of those who took the child.
Zero set the building on fire. This time, the flames weren't blue—they were ordinary orange. No need to hide the tracks here.
Then he looked at the mask in his hand. The yellow symbol was still glowing.
"Another promise," Zero whispered to himself. "To find the boy. And to find out who 'They' are."
But first, a visit to Willow Village. To pay a debt of a promise.
And after that... a return to the Capital. Not to submit a report, but to uncover what he knew about "Project Renaissance."
And to find out why, suddenly, he felt that the system of Observers he had served all these years...
Might just be part of the problem.
End of Chapter One