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Year 2268
Nether Realm—Outlands
The Outlands—a place where the forsaken were discarded like broken tools. A wasteland where only the desperate and the forgotten remained. Crumbling buildings stood as silent witnesses to the suffering endured here, their walls stained with the echoes of countless tragedies.
Tonight, the tragedy was fresh.
A young boy sat curled up against a shattered wall, his frail body trembling uncontrollably. His knees were drawn tightly to his chest, his arms wrapped around himself as if trying to hold in the last fragnts of warmth, of life. But nothing could hold back the horrors playing in his mind.
The screams.
Agonized wails that had pierced the night, only to be silenced one by one. The wet sound of flesh being torn apart. The acrid stench of burning bodies mingling with the coppery tang of blood.
And then—nothing.
The silence of the dead. The silence of a world that had abandoned him.
A severed beast's head lay re inches from him, its grotesque, glassy eyes staring into his soul. Its jaws, filled with jagged fangs, were frozen in a final snarl. Even in death, its monstrous aura lingered in the air, suffocating and oppressive.
Kieran Marcoth couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
His heartbeat was a hamr against his ribs, erratic and deafening. He wanted to run, to scream, to wake up from this nightmare—but his body refused to obey. He was drowning in fear, suffocated by the weight of everything he had just lost.
Then, voices.
Distant at first. Footsteps crunching over debris. The sound of armored boots stopping nearby.
A group of n stood in the midst of the carnage, their figures dark silhouettes against the dim glow of the ruined settlent.
One of them, clad in red-and-black tech armor lined with glowing blue circuits, exhaled slowly. His reflective helt lenses caught the image of the shivering child among the devastation.
Garret, a veteran officer of the Jade Faction, clenched his fists.
"Too late."
His voice was rough, weary.
"The entire Outlands..." He let out a slow, heavy breath. "Wiped out. Only one survivor."
A towering man in a black tank top stepped forward, his muscular fra tense with barely contained rage. His scarred hands twitched at his sides, his expression dark with frustration.
Kendrick, a battle-hardened warrior, scowled.
"This could've been avoided if the Nelkon family had sent reinforcents on ti!" His voice vibrated with anger as he turned his glare toward a man standing just beyond the wreckage.
A figure erged from the shadows, his presence radiating arrogance. His scarred face twisted into an amused smirk as he casually surveyed the ruins.
"So what if a few pests were exterminated?" he sneered.
Kendrick's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.
"You arrogant bastards from the Nelkon family," he spat. "If you had done your damn job, these people wouldn't have been slaughtered!" His voice was raw with fury. "And instead of showing an ounce of regret, you show up running your mouth?"
Simon Nelkon chuckled, the amusent in his eyes sharp and condescending.
"Regret?" He scoffed. "For what? The Outlands were a garbage heap. And just like this place, your pathetic Jade Faction should've been wiped out ages ago."
Kendrick took a step forward, his entire body thrumming with restrained violence.
"Say that again." His voice was low, dangerous.
Garret quickly stepped between them, adjusting his glasses with a sigh.
"Enough. We shouldn't be fighting among ourselves."
Kendrick seethed but didn't move.
Simon, on the other hand, smirked wider. "Oh? What's wrong? It's been a while since we reminded the lesser factions what it ans to be an Origin Family."
The air between them grew thick with tension.
Then, Simon's gaze shifted to the trembling boy.
Kieran barely registered his approach. He was still trapped in the horrors of the massacre, his body locked in a state of shock.
Simon clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Pathetic."
Kieran's wide, haunted eyes t his.
"You got lucky today, boy," Simon said coldly. "Next ti, you'll be nothing more than another corpse rotting in the dirt."
He crouched, lowering his voice.
"Don't ever wait for soone to save you. No one has ti for the weak. Strength is all that matters."
Those words sliced through Kieran like a blade.
His fingers twitched against the fabric of his torn clothes. His body shook—not from fear this ti, but from sothing deeper.
A question burned in his mind.
Why? Why are we discarded just because we can't defend ourselves?
He didn't say it out loud. He didn't dare.
But in that mont, as the embers of his ho smoldered around him, a silent vow took root in his heart.
Never again.
He would not be weak. He would not let the weak be trampled beneath the feet of the strong.
---
Years Later—Nether Academy
"Ma'am, with all due respect..."
Kieran's voice was cold, unwavering. His fists clenched tightly at his sides.
"If those three aren't punished accordingly..." He stepped forward, his presence commanding, unyielding.
"Don't bla if I take matters into my own hands."
His dark eyes burned with a fire that had never dimd since that night in the Outlands.
Across from him, Nelyx, a high-ranking official in the academy, sighed. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders as she studied him with sharp, knowing eyes.
"Well," she said, voice calm but firm, "if you think you can do sothing about it... then you're free to try."
She saw it—the storm of emotions swirling beneath his composed exterior. There was no talking him out of this.
Kieran didn't waver. If anything, her response only strengthened his resolve.
Nelyx leaned back, arms crossed.
"Before you go charging into a death sentence, however, you should know that the Nelkon family is an Origin Family. Their forces rival those of top-tier factions—if not surpass them." Her gaze was piercing.
"If you don't want to die, then you'd better find backing first."
She let that sink in before continuing.
"That said... I'd like to offer you a direct entry into my faction."
Kieran's expression remained unreadable, but his mind was already weighing the options.
"I won't support you directly if you go after the Nelkon family," Nelyx warned. "But I will provide resources."
A heavy silence followed.
Their gazes locked—a battle of wills.
Kieran knew she was right. He wasn't reckless. He wasn't suicidal. But he had two missions.
Kill the two bastards.
And find out why Jane betrayed him.
Even thinking about it made his fists tighten.
Nelyx studied him carefully. She knew.
This was a test. A temptation.
Would he accept the safety net of her faction, or would he throw himself into the fire alone?
Kieran exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief mont.
Then, he made his decision.
'Should I accept?'
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