"You finally came. I've been waiting for you."
In the end, only Leo from the Silver Pentagram Squad passed the trials of the Ten Gates. However, the hidden power within the Tenth Gate was something they had never anticipated.
Everything seemed to circle back to the beginning—or perhaps, to something even worse.
...
Night had fallen, and a gentle breeze swept through the streets of the frontier town, carrying with it the crisp chill of autumn. Most of the townsfolk had already retired for the night, with only a few houses still aglow with candlelight, casting flickering shadows upon wooden window frames. The town lay in serene silence.
Yet, at the heart of the town square, a sudden burst of azure light tore through the darkness, as if a bolt of lightning had split the night apart. A deep, humming resonance followed as an ancient and intricate magic circle emerged upon the stone-paved ground. Runes interwove and shimmered, pulsing as though some unknown force was at work.
As the light gradually dimmed, a boy appeared at the center of the magic circle—unconscious.
His clothes were tattered and stained, as if he had endured a harrowing battle. His exposed skin bore numerous wounds, some dried and scarred, others still revealing the severity of past injuries. Though exhaustion lined his features, his face remained sharp and well-defined. He appeared to be around twenty years old.
In his right hand, he still clutched a broken sword. The blade was wrapped in frayed cloth, and the hilt bore faint, ancient inscriptions.
He lay motionless in the middle of the square, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was still alive.
Silence reclaimed the square, as if nothing had happened. Yet, no one knew that the arrival of this boy would quietly set the town's fate on a new course.
As the first light of dawn pierced through the lingering mist, the town began to stir. Villagers stepped out of their homes, ready to start a new day.
A woman, up early to fetch water, was the first to notice something unusual in the square. The moment her eyes fell upon the unconscious boy, she gasped and took a step back.
"Someone! Come quickly! There's a boy collapsed here!" she called out.
Before long, a small crowd had gathered, murmuring amongst themselves.
"Who is he? How did he get here?"
"Judging by his wounds, he must have been in danger."
"His clothes are in tatters… Could he be a fugitive?"
A middle-aged man knelt beside the boy and checked for signs of life. Feeling a faint but steady breath, he let out a sigh of relief. "He's still alive. We need to get him somewhere safe."
With the help of the townspeople, the boy was carried to the back room of the town's blacksmith shop. There, the villagers took turns caring for him—feeding him warm broth, tending to his wounds, and dressing him in clean clothes.
Two days passed before the boy finally opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the wooden ceiling of a modest room. Dim morning light filtered through the window, casting soft beams across the room. The air carried a faint scent of iron and burning wood. His body felt weak, but his mind was finally clear.
Beside his bed sat an elderly blacksmith, who smiled kindly upon seeing him awake. "You're finally up, lad. Can you hear me?"
The boy parted his lips, his voice hoarse and low. "...Where am I?"
"This is Orl Town, a small frontier settlement," the blacksmith replied. "We found you unconscious in the town square, covered in wounds. We've been looking after you."
The boy fell silent, deep in thought. After a moment, he shook his head, his expression clouded with confusion. "I… I don't remember anything."
"What?" The blacksmith's brow furrowed.
"My past… it's all gone." The boy pressed a hand to his temple, trying to recall even a fragment of memory. But no matter how hard he tried, it was useless.
The blacksmith studied him for a moment before sighing. "Not even your own name?"
The boy hesitated, then murmured, "No… I remember my name. It's Leo."
That was all. Everything else was a blank slate.
Leo remained in the town. Though his past was lost to him, he did not wallow in despair. Instead, he quickly adapted to life in Orl Town, helping around the blacksmith's forge in exchange for food and shelter.
At first, the blacksmith only gave him simple tasks—carrying ore, polishing metal. But as time went on, Leo displayed an astonishing aptitude for the craft. Whether it was forging iron or shaping a basic blade, he grasped the techniques with remarkable speed, outpacing even seasoned apprentices.
"You might've been a blacksmith before," the old smith mused with a chuckle. "No one picks things up this fast unless they've done it before."
Yet, Leo himself wasn't sure. Sometimes, in the dead of night, fragmented dreams haunted him—visions of a battlefield drenched in blood, a shattered sword, fallen figures. But each time he tried to see them clearly, the dream would dissolve, leaving behind only an aching emptiness.
He never spoke of these dreams. Instead, he continued his quiet life, blending into the town like any other youth.
But time passed, and something remained unchanged—his body.
Years slipped by, yet Leo still looked no older than twenty. The villagers noticed but chose not to question it. He was kind, hardworking, and had become a part of their community. That was enough for them.
Then, something strange began happening—the town's food stores were being raided.
At first, the villagers assumed it was wild animals and took extra precautions. But no matter what they did, the thefts continued. Each morning, sacks of flour or dried meat would be missing, vanishing without a trace.
"We can't let this continue," the town elder declared at a village meeting, worry creasing his face. "If this goes on, we won't have enough supplies to last through the winter."
"Could it be bandits?" someone suggested.
"Or a monster?" another villager asked nervously.
The blacksmith stroked his beard. "Whatever it is, we must catch it. If we don't, our lives will only get harder."
The villagers nodded in agreement. After some discussion, they decided to set an ambush near the granary and catch the thief themselves.
Leo volunteered to join the watch.
That night, he crouched in the shadows of the granary, a short sword in hand, his eyes scanning the surroundings under the pale moonlight.
A strange feeling gnawed at him—a quiet, inexplicable certainty.
Tonight would change everything.