The Dark Zone – no one really knows when that name first came into being.
All that's certain is this: ever since humanity existed, so did it – an inevitable part of the world.
There is no sun in the Dark Zone, no moon, not even a single star in sight. Only a faint, otherworldly glow – a mix of deep violet and cold blue – casts its dim light upon the decaying remnants scattered across the land.
It is a hollow place, devoid of life, where nothing should be able to survive. Nothing, that is, except them – the bloodthirsty creatures born for one purpose alone: to hunt humans.
And yet – beneath that surreal sky, a young boy was making his way up a gravel-strewn path, step by step toward the top of the hill. He came to a stop, gazing intently at the shadowed land ahead as he took a deep breath. The cold air filled his lungs and sent a shiver down his spine.
"This feeling... it's familiar," he murmured, as a rush of distant memories surfaced.
He had wandered into this place once before, back when he was just a child. He still remembered how his heart felt like it was being crushed, how close those red eyes had come – monstrous eyes filled with bloodlust, just a few steps away. He would've died that day, if not for the arrival of the knights – guards of a merchant caravan bound for Gedion, who had appeared just in time.
Since that day, more than ten years had passed.
No travelers had come this way again.
And because of that, Gedion – a small town known for raising livestock – had fallen into a state of quiet desperation. Cut off from the outside world, the townspeople lacked the metals needed to forge tools, the fabrics to sew clothes, even the medicine that might save the sick.
With each passing season, their panic and hopelessness deepened, yet there was nothing they could do. All they could manage was to voice their fears and frustrations to one old man – their town's only guiding figure.
"Why were we abandoned here?"
"What's really happening out there?"
"Can't someone leave and find out the truth?"
Those same questions echoed year after year, over and over again. But no answers ever came.
The man who once guided Gedion – Xin's grandfather – had passed away just last month. For reasons he never explained, he had always strictly forbidden Xin from leaving the town.
Before he passed away, the old man entrusted Xin with a few items – things the boy had never seen before.
There was a small notebook filled with sketches and notes about strange, otherworldly creatures.
A pair of short twin blades, each shaped like a crimson shard of frozen flame.
A black emblem, smooth and cold, about the size of a human palm.
And finally, a scrap of paper bearing a handwritten message:
"I will head east of Azula.
If the sun does not return by the time the seal changes color, abandon your Northern Star. Carry the last of our hope as far south as you can.
My love will endure – always. With all my heart, Hasha."
Back when his grandfather was on his deathbed, Xin hadn't given much thought to the items he was left. But lately, as Gedion's condition worsened with each passing day, a realization had begun to settle in: someone had to leave, someone had to venture beyond the edge and find a way to save their dying town.
The new guiding elder of Gedion, a respected man named Sorith, had quietly informed him, "No one is willing to answer the call. No one wants to go with you."
Even his childhood friends tried to talk him out of it. Among them was Tabi – the boy who had grown up tending horses by his side, and perhaps the one who understood Xin the most.
"Let it go, Xin. You know the Dark Zone is a death trap."
"Tabi, do you remember? When we were kids, we used to dream about becoming knights, exploring new lands. I never thought you'd be the one trying to stop me."
Tabi gave a dry laugh, but his eyes held nothing but exhaustion.
"Xin... we're not kids anymore. Look around you. Why do you think the knights never came back?"
He clenched his fists, bitterness rising in his voice as he pointed toward the northern sky.
"They must've fallen out there – countless of them. Even trained fighters, and they were too scared to fight. So why the hell are you risking it all?"
Silence fell between them.
The wind swept through the open field where they stood – cold, hollow, like the fate hanging over Gedion.
After a long pause, Xin spoke softly.
"Tabi... your mother needs medicine, doesn't she?"
Tabi froze. He hesitated for a moment before answering, voice heavy with sorrow.
"Maria told you, didn't she?"
"No," Xin shook his head gently. "I saw her at the clinic."
Tabi lowered his gaze. His voice came out rough and quiet.
"She's been coughing through the nights... The herbalist said... she might not make it through this winter."
Xin placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder.
"It's only spring now," he said reassuringly. "We still have time. I'll find the medicine. I'll be back before it's too late."
Seeing that hopeful smile on Xin's face, Tabi could only sigh.
He knew his friend too well – once Xin had made up his mind, no one could stop him.
On the day of his departure, most of Gedion kept their distance, pretending not to notice. Perhaps they feared that a simple goodbye might become a final farewell. Only three people came to see him off: Sorith, Tabi, and Tabi's older sister, Maria, who brought along a few supplies for the journey.
Maria pulled Xin into a tight embrace, her voice trembling with emotion she couldn't quite put into words.
"Xin… if things get dangerous… please come back. My mother wouldn't want you risking your life for her…"
Xin gave a soft smile, gently patting her on the back in reassurance.
"Don't worry, Maria. I've got fast legs. As long as I keep running, I'll get to where I need to be."
Sorith stepped forward and handed Xin a small cloth pouch. Inside was a modest handful of gold – coins quietly gathered by the villagers over time.
"Gedion has nothing but its hopes resting on your shoulders," he said gently. "Take this… and carry all of our faith with you."
Tabi brought over a sturdy horse, already saddled and ready to go. From his belt, he drew a sword wrapped in worn leather, then offered it to Xin.
"This sword's worth eight horses," Tabi said with a half-smile. "My father bought it from a knight. It's not new, but it's sharp. Keep it with you, just in case."
Xin took the sword and the pouch of gold. But when Tabi offered him the reins, he shook his head and turned them down. Without another word, he set off down the path.
He tried to keep a confident face for their sake – so they wouldn't worry.
But deep down, he knew the truth: this journey was full of risks, and survival was far from guaranteed.
He couldn't bring himself to waste the life of the horse Tabi cherished so deeply.
If anything had to be risked on this road… it should be his life, and his alone.