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Choi Han didn't know what year it was, how long he had been in this nightmarish existence, or how he had even ended up here. Oh, the weariness weighed on him like a suffocating blanket. He had lost everything, and the only thing he clung to was his name. He repeated it over and over again, refusing to let go of his identity. But even that was slowly slipping away from him, like sand through his fingers.
He forced himself to remember his family members' faces, desperately trying to recall their smiles and laughter, but the memories eluded him, slipping into the abyss of forgotten moments. He chanted their names hundreds of thousands of times, but it was futile. No tears came to his eyes, as if his soul had run dry long ago.
In the beginning, Choi Han was the weakest existence in the unforgiving forest. He had cast aside everything that once made him human. His pride, his need for cleanliness, the comforting warmth of a bed, and the simple luxury of rest had all been sacrificed on the altar of survival.
Choi Han often dug shallow holes in the damp earth and hid in them for days at a time, the cold seeping into his bones, hunger gnawing at his insides, and fatigue dragging him into a relentless abyss. He went days without food or sleep, his body a mere shell of its former self.
At times, desperation forced Choi Han to scavenge for meager scraps of sustenance. He picked at discarded morsels of food left behind by monsters, his stomach twisting in protest at the revolting meals. He hid amidst the decaying corpses of the creatures that had once terrified him, feeling the skittering of insects across his malnourished body.
And when the stench of his own existence became too overpowering, he resorted to the unthinkable. Choi Han smeared himself with the foul excrement of monsters, hoping that the putrid odor would mask his presence from the creatures that roamed this relentless wilderness. It was a wretched existence, a never-ending nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.
Choi Han's world had become a bleak and desolate landscape, a place where hope had withered away, leaving behind only the cold, unrelenting grip of despair.
Eventually, Choi Han named his sword art "Dark Destruction Sword Art," a reflection of his relentless determination to obliterate everything that stood in his way, except for his own identity. With each swing of his blade, he cut down the obstacles in his path, carving a straight and unyielding line forward. He knew that as long as he had a direction to follow, he had a chance to find a way out of the abyss that had consumed him.
He couldn't remember when he had acquired the sword, but it had become an extension of himself, a symbol of his will to survive in this unforgiving world. It was his constant companion in the endless battle for survival.
Then, one fateful day, he stumbled upon it—the village. It was a simple place known as Harris Village. The people there offered him something he had been deprived of for years: comfort, friendship, and love. It was a respite from the unrelenting hardships he had endured, a glimpse of humanity's warmth in a world that had seemed devoid of it.
Time blurred and twisted in Choi Han's mind. Were there years he had spent in isolation, or had it only been months? The passage of time had become a confusing haze, a concept that eluded his grasp in the endless struggle for survival. But none of that mattered now, for in Harris Village, he had found something precious—a glimmer of hope, a taste of the life he thought he had lost forever.
Everything was stolen from him as he returned to his village in ruins after collecting medicinal herbs. Choi Han had entered the dangerous forest on a mission to find a healing herb, as one of the villagers who had shown him kindness was gravely ill. As the person most familiar with the treacherous woods, he willingly took on the task of procuring the necessary ingredients. Hours slipped by, and he managed to gather a substantial quantity of herbs, filling a small basket. Notably, he had also amassed a gruesome pile of monster corpses, creatures that had attempted to consume him during his expedition.
He rushed through the village gate, and the moment he stepped inside, the stench grew more overpowering. The scene that met his eyes was heartbreaking: villagers lay bleeding and motionless on the ground, their homes reduced to smoldering ruins, and their lifeless bodies charred by the flames. The once-vibrant and joyful village had been utterly obliterated. Confusion and anguish consumed his thoughts. What had transpired here? Who could commit such a heinous act? Where were the perpetrators?
Amid the chaos, he desperately scoured the vicinity, hoping against hope to find a survivor, even just one. His ears caught the faint sound of footsteps. Was someone still alive? Could they be the culprits responsible for this devastation? He swiftly moved toward the approaching noise, his hand gripping his sword in readiness for any potential threat.
When he finally laid eyes on them, he didn't hesitate to engage; those responsible for setting their beloved village ablaze had to be stopped. Fueled by anger, he launched an assault, and the ensuing battle proved relatively straightforward; they lacked strength, and his fury blinded him to the realization that they had all fallen to his blade.
Minutes passed, and silence descended, save for the crackling of the remaining flames. With each passing moment, remorse began to gnaw at him. His anger had clouded his judgment, and now he couldn't identify the true culprits. In an effort to suppress his guilt, he resumed his quest; there had to be at least one survivor; he couldn't have been too late. He refused to accept the reality, even though he knew deep down that he had indeed arrived too late. If only he had reached the village sooner, perhaps he could have saved someone. If only he had been quicker. Maybe if he hadn't left that morning, none of this would have happened.
Why did this tragedy have to occur? Why on that day? Why did he have to endure the agony of loss once more? Was this some form of punishment for past deeds? Desperation welled up within him; he was weary of losing those he cherished. First, he had lost his family, then he found himself transported to an entirely different world, subjected to a relentless ordeal until the villagers took him in, and now they too had been cruelly torn away from him.
Ignoring the nauseating scent of burnt flesh that permeated the air, he pressed on with his somber task. His mission had shifted; he was no longer searching for survivors, as he knew they had all drawn their final breaths. Instead, he began the grim process of burying the charred bodies with great care, a solemn tribute to the once-thriving community that had been reduced to ashes.
As the hours ticked by, the raging inferno that had consumed Choi Han's village gradually waned, leaving behind smoldering embers and a haunting, eerie silence. Row after row of freshly dug graves now punctuated the landscape, a grim testament to the horrors that had befallen the once-vibrant community. Each mound of earth represented a life extinguished too soon, a story abruptly cut short.
The weight of the task he had undertaken bore heavily on Choi Han's heart, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was the least he could do for his fallen comrades. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, he looked upon the somber tableau that had once been a place of laughter and joy. The memories of children playing, their carefree laughter, their joyful shouts, the gentle conversations of the elderly, and the rhythmic sounds of firewood being chopped had all vanished, replaced by an unsettling and suffocating silence that seemed to smother the very air.
Recalling the warmth and camaraderie that had defined the village before his ill-fated departure, Choi Han found himself unable to access that same warmth now. What remained was a lingering heat, one so stifling that it made the desolate ruins seem almost unbearable to behold. Every charred beam and scorched wall seemed to whisper the tragedy that had unfolded here, and the once-bustling village was now a desolation of memories.
But despite the heartache and despair that enveloped him, Choi Han knew he had a duty to fulfill. He had to inform someone about the atrocity that had occurred. The village chief had mentioned the lord of the territory, and it was his responsibility to seek answers and justice. With slow and deliberate movements, he gripped the hilt of his sword, seeking reassurance in its familiar weight.
His clothes stained with the blood of his foes and the lingering scent of charred remains, he began his solitary journey towards Rain City, guided by the directions they had provided. Without allowing himself the luxury of looking back at the village, he set forth, his determination unwavering, even in the face of unfathomable loss. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, but he was driven by the need to uncover the truth and find retribution for the village he had called home, now forever altered by the fires of tragedy.
Upon reaching Rain City, Choi Han found himself barred from entry due to a lack of appropriate paperwork. Frustration and impatience gnawed at him as he contemplated his next move. Waiting for nightfall seemed to be the only option.
As darkness descended upon the city, shrouding it in an inky veil, Choi Han decided to attempt a daring climb over the city walls. With the moon as his only companion, he scaled the imposing barrier, inching his way closer to his goal. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached the summit of the wall, ready to make the perilous descent.
However, just as he was about to leap down, his keen eyes caught a heartwarming sight. Two pitiful, shivering cats huddled together in a nook on the wall. Their vulnerability tugged at Choi Han's heartstrings, and he couldn't bear to harm them. With great care and precision, he adjusted his landing, twisting his ankle in the process to avoid disturbing the feline pair. Despite the pain, he managed to land safely, sparing the cats from harm.
His twisted ankle throbbed with discomfort, but Choi Han's determination remained unshaken. He knew he needed to press on, not just for his own quest for justice but also to provide his fallen family with the proper rest they deserved. The memory of the village and its inhabitants, along with the pitiable cats he had spared, served as his unwavering motivation to navigate the challenges ahead, no matter how arduous they might be.
Henituse's manor stood as a magnificent testament to opulence and wealth, a sprawling estate that commanded attention with its grandeur. The manor itself was a lavish architectural masterpiece, boasting ornate columns, intricately designed facades, and sprawling gardens that seemed to stretch on forever. Its exterior walls were adorned with intricate carvings and reliefs that told stories of generations of Henituse family history. The vast estate was surrounded by lush, meticulously landscaped gardens with vibrant, exotic flowers and statues that adorned the pathways, creating a breathtakingly picturesque setting
Inside, the manor was a marvel of luxury and extravagance. Opulent chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm and inviting glow over the richly decorated rooms. Elaborate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grandeur and valor. The floors were covered in plush carpets that felt like walking on clouds, and fine art and antique furniture were meticulously arranged throughout the various chambers.
Cale Henituse, the young master of the manor, was a striking figure with his distinctive red hair and reddish eyes. Despite his rude and drunken demeanor, there was an undeniable allure to his features that hinted at his noble lineage. His youthful countenance and well-groomed appearance made him a memorable presence in any room he entered.
Choi Han, despite his initial intentions of seeking Cale Henituse's father for help with the proper burial for his village, found himself embroiled in an altercation with the young master due to Cale's offensive behavior. In the heat of their exchange, Choi Han had seized a lamp and wielded it with surprising dexterity. Its brass body had struck through the air with a resounding thud, its ornate details glinting ominously in the room's dim illumination. While Cale's appearance had the potential for a different kind of charm, his actions had left a sour impression on Choi Han.
In his haste to leave the manor after the altercation, Choi Han departed with a butler and his son in tow, putting the manor and its troublesome inhabitants behind him. Little did he know that his path would lead him into the throes of war, a challenge far greater than the rudeness of Cale Henituse. As Choi Han set out on his unpredictable journey, he could only ponder the mysteries of the future, where the whims of the gods would ultimately decide their fates.