"Fight!" The voice rang through the dojo. A young boy, maybe no older than thirteen, shot forward. Strange golden markings glowed faintly on his arms, tribal lines that pulsed like veins of lava. As he landed, the ground beneath him cracked. CRACK! Sharp black spikes burst out from the floor like angry fangs, racing toward his opponent.
But the boy across from him didn't move. He had pale white hair that shimmered under the morning light, and a calm, empty look in his eyes. "Black... vortex." His voice was quiet but sharp. Suddenly, the air around him twisted. A swirling black mist spun into shape at his chest, then burst out in a violent spiral, spinning faster and faster until it looked like a miniature storm. The spikes hit it and vanished. Swallowed. The black mist kept growing. Faster and bigger. It wasn't just taking the boy's attack, it was devouring the floor, the walls, the space around them.
"Stop... stop!" the white-haired boy muttered, stepping back. He held out his hand like he could reel the spell back in. But nothing happened. His face started to sweat. Panic crept into his voice. "I-I used to be able to stop it... why isn't it working!?" The dojo shook. Bits of the ceiling cracked as the swirling dark pulled at everything nearby. His opponent had already fallen to the floor, eyes wide in fear.
"No....No! It'll swallow him up!" The white-haired boy stumbled forward. "Stop it... just stop!!" He tried again. Hands trembling.
Then... silence. His vision blurred. His knees hit the ground. "Mom..." he whispered, breath shallow. His mind slipped into darkness. Suddenly, in the haze, a gentle warmth touched his head. Fingers, soft and kind, brushed through his snowy hair.
"I didn't mean it... Mom... I didn't..." he sobbed. "I know," she said. Her voice was calm. She pressed a kiss to his hair, holding him like she used to when he was a child.
Then everything vanished. The Next Morning. The white- haired Boy stood at the side of the dojo. It was quiet now. Half the roof was gone, some of the floorboards scattered. Workers moved around, trying to repair it, but no one looked at him.
Then, SPLAT! A sour apple hit the side of his head. "You don't belong here, freak!" someone shouted from behind a wall. Ji-ho flinched. He turned, but no one was there.
He screamed. "It wasn't my fault!" Silence.
He blinked. The apple was gone. The workers were gone. He was alone. A cruel trick of the mind again.
In his bed, Ye-rin twitched a little but didn't wake. Ji-ho wiped the sweat from his forehead and walked to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror. Pale skin. Tired eyes. "Just when I'm about to go on a secret mission," he muttered, forcing a small laugh. It didn't feel real. None of it did.
He splashed cold water on his face. By the time the sun even Rose over the roof, Ji-ho had packed everything he needed. Simple black clothes, foods, and water, and a few strange tools he'd hidden away. He walked toward the door quietly, but a yawn stopped him. "Do you really have to leave?" Ye-rin stood at the hallway entrance, rubbing her eyes. "Didn't you say you had a week off?"
Ji-ho smiled softly. "I do. I'll be back soon. You can tell me more about your friend Su-bin."
Ye-rin frowned, clearly still half-asleep. "And why are you suddenly interested in Su-bin?"
Ji-ho raised both hands in surrender. "No reason. Just curious." He took a step back. "I'll be off now. If anything happens, call me. I'll come back right away." She didn't say anything. Just gave him a tired look. Then he was gone.
Ji-ho walked down the misty street, boots quiet against the stone. Most shops were still closed, and the early air smelled of baked rice cakes and damp leaves. He didn't wear the EDC uniform today, just plain clothes and a black hoodie. Blending in. Not drawing attention.
The memories still lingered in his head. The vortex, the voice of his mother, the apple, the accusations. All of it mixed and heavy.
He reached the top of a hill that overlooked the older districts, just where the city began to fade into countryside. "Took you long enough." Ji-ho turned. Dae-chul leaned against a wall with a lazy grin, a heavy bag thrown over one shoulder.
"Had to call in a few favors," he said, unzipping the bag. "Viola." He pulled out an impressive set of weapons, a spear, two daggers, abd he's favourite a mana condensed gun. All polished and new.
Ji-ho raised a brow. "You sure you're broke?"
Dae-chul shrugged. "Can't a man have secrets?" Ji-ho shook his head, smiling faintly. "Thanks."
"No 'you're the best, Dae-chul said smiling. "C'mon. Let's move." "We got a very long work cut our for us," The two of them moved through the valley trail, heading toward a familiar village. The same one where they'd fought the gang of goons a few days before.
Ji-ho clenched his fists, remembering the dying man's final words. "The master… he plans to obtain something. He'll destroy the village… in three days… please… spare the children…" His voice had cracked near the end. Blood poured from his mouth as he collapsed.
They crouched beneath a broken old wagon near the treeline. From there, they could see the village entrance. Men were gathered, dozens of them. All of them had strange markings on their wrists. Some carried boxes. Others stood guard. "The boss sure is spooky," one guy muttered, scratching his beard.
"Of course. That's why he's the boss," another replied, lighting a smoke. Ji-ho leaned closer to Dae-chul. "There's way more of them than last time." "We need to know what they're looking for. Then we hit where it hurts." They nodded. But just as they were planning their next move. Ring... Ring... Ji-ho's phone lit up. He froze. Dae chul's eyes widened. The guards near the gate turned. "Sh*t..." Ji-ho whispered.