Chapter 1
At a store, two men trading goods. The merchant leaned across his counter, eyes narrowed. “So, how are you going to pay?”
The Asian man before him—a weary, desperate father—lowered his gaze. “My business is failing. I don’t have enough.”
The merchant scoffed. “Not my problem. You either pay me, or you go to jail.”
The father hesitated before speaking. “How about this… you take my son as your helper to pay off my debt?”
The merchant blinked, taken aback. “You’re willing to give me your son as a slave?”
“Yes.” The father’s voice was hollow.
The merchant exhaled sharply. “Fine. Where is he?”
The man turned and walked to his 10-year-old son, Kaizo. Kneeling before him, he placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’ll be staying here, okay?”
Kaizo looked up, confused. “When will you be back, Dad?”
The father turned away, avoiding his son’s eyes. “Maybe a year.”
Kaizo barely had time to process his father’s words before being pushed toward the merchant. He watched helplessly as his father climbed onto his carriage and rode away, disappearing into the distance. That was the last time Kaizo ever saw him.
Years have gone by. The merchant was cruel. Kaizo quickly learned that disobedience—no matter how small—was met with punishment. He was beaten, overworked, and given only one meal a day. He waited for his father’s return, but days turned into weeks, and weeks into years.
By the time Kaizo turned 15, he had long accepted the truth. His father had abandoned him.
Then, one day, a nobleman rode into town. Dressed in fine armor and accompanied by guards, he dismounted his horse and approached the merchant.
“I’m looking for workers,” the nobleman said. “Do you know of any?”
The merchant smirked. “I have one. Strong enough, does what he’s told. You can have him for five gold coins.”
“Two,” the noble countered.
“Four.”
“Deal.”
“Kaizo!” The merchant’s voice cut through the air.
Kaizo stepped forward, thin and weary, his body worn from years of abuse. The merchant sneered. “He may look weak, but he works hard.”
The nobleman didn’t bother inspecting him. “It’s settled.”
Without a word, Kaizo followed, barely sparing the merchant a final glance.
As the nobleman rounded up a few more slaves, they were chained together and forced to march behind his horse. A full day passed before they arrived at a massive castle.
A sign at the gates read: Welcome to the Highland Kingdom.
Upon arrival, the nobleman handed his horse to a stable worker. “Feed and water them. It’s been a full day since they’ve eaten.”
A soldier led them to the slave quarters, a cold, dark space packed with others just like them. As Kaizo settled in, a commander emerged.
“To all new workers, I am your commander,” he declared. “Follow orders, and you won’t get hurt.”
He tossed each of them a small piece of bread and a cup of water. Kaizo devoured his instantly.
A voice beside him murmured, “You should’ve saved some. Who knows when we’ll eat again?”
Kaizo turned to see a boy around his age.
“I’m Arc,” the boy introduced himself.
“Kaizo,” he replied.
Night came quickly. The slaves went to bed.
The next day, the new slaves were put to work moving heavy stones and debris. Soldiers stood watch, their whips at the ready.
Kaizo noticed a young boy struggling to lift a heavy rock. Instinctively, he stepped in to help.
“Don’t,” the boy whispered, pushing him away.
Confused, Kaizo asked, “Why?”
Before he could get an answer, a soldier spotted him. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
“He needed help,” Kaizo said.
The soldier’s eyes darkened. He strode over and slapped Kaizo across the face. “You don’t help anyone. Get back to work.”
Kaizo clenched his fists but obeyed. He went back to his duty.
At lunch, Arc sat next to him. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he warned. “If we help each other, they punish us. Every man for himself.”
Kaizo stared at the ground, absorbing Arc’s words.
But later that day, he saw an elderly man struggling under the weight of a large stone. Kaizo hesitated—then stepped in to help.
A soldier spotted him. “That’s twice now.” He turned to the old man, raising his whip.
Kaizo moved without thinking, grabbing the soldier’s wrist.
The soldier froze, then smirked. “A hero, among trash, huh?
“I’ll take his punishment.” Kaizo said in a firm voice.
The soldier laughed. “Fine.” “Guards!” He called.
Two guards seized Kaizo’s arms and forced him to his knees. The whip cracked through the air, striking his back five times. Kaizo gritted his teeth, pain searing through him.
“This,” the soldier announced to the others, “is what happens when anyone tries to be a hero.”
The slaves watched in silent fear. No one dared help Kaizo as he lay bleeding on the ground. But after a few minutes, he forced himself to his feet.
The old man mouthed, Thank you.
Kaizo simply nodded and returned to work, despite the agony in his back.
That night, Arc approached him. “I told you not to help others.”
“He was old,” and weak.” Kaizo said simply.
Arc sighed. “It’s your first day, and you’re already getting punished.”
Kaizo forced a weak smile. “Guess it’s my lucky day.”
Arc shook his head. “Just get some rest.”
Kaizo turns on his stomach and lays down. The pain still stung him through the night.
The next morning, a slave was caught stealing food. The soldiers punished him by withholding his rations for that day and made an example of him.
Kaizo watched as the starving man trembled. He knew what would happen—without food, the man would weaken, and eventually, he would collapse. And when that happened, he would be beaten.
During the midday meal, Kaizo ate half his bread. Then, as he stood, he “tripped” near the starving man, subtly sliding the rest to him. The man quickly tucked it into his shirt.
A soldier sneered. “Mind your step.”
Kaizo nodded, hiding his satisfaction.
After break, they are sent to work again.
That night, Arc whispered, “I saw what you did.”
Kaizo remained silent.
“Why are you helping others?”
Kaizo finally responded, “They can chain my body, but not my heart.”
Arc exhaled. “You’re a fool.”
“Maybe.” I rather be a fool, than be heartless.” Kaizo countered.
Arc smiled at his comment.
They rest for the night.
Kaizo stared at the stars above. His mind wonders if his life could be different. A shooting star flys across the black sky. He tilts his head a bit at the direction. He turns and goes to sleep.
The next morning, the commander entered. “I need volunteers.”
No one spoke.
He scanned the crowd, then yanked Arc forward. Kaizo’s fists clenched.
The commander unsheathed his sword, pressing the blade to Arc’s throat.
Seeing his friend at the mercy of the commander. “I volunteer,” Kaizo blurted out.
The commander raised an eyebrow. “Anyone else?”
Arc sighed. “Me too.”
The man Kaizo had fed stepped forward. “Me.”
Then, the elderly man joined. “I’ll go as well.”
The commander smirked. “Perfect.”
They were all the people Kaizo had helped.
They were led to the armory and given light armor and swords.
Arc whispered, “Looks like we’re going to war.”
As they joined the main army, Kaizo looked around. The other three wore fear in their eyes.
The old man muttered, “They’re sacrificing us.”
Kaizo tightened his grip on the sword. He knew he had only two choices—die as a slave or fight for something more.
And he refused to die in chains.
The soldiers stood in tense silence, gripping their weapons as the battlefield stretched before them. Kaizo swallowed hard. We have no combat experience, he thought. Beside him, Arc shifted uneasily.
The army marched to the battlefield.
“I’ll keep an eye on you,” Kaizo assured the old man, though his own nerves were barely in check.
The commander suddenly raised a hand, halting the troops. “Here we are,” he declared, facing the enemy forces. The tension was suffocating.
Then, before the battle could even begin, the old man broke rank, panic flashing in his eyes. He turned and bolted.
Without hesitation, the commander drew his bow and fired. The arrow struck the fleeing man square in the back. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
“Anyone who runs from battle will die like him,” the commander warned, his voice cold and unwavering.
Kaizo’s breath hitched. He had promised to watch out for the man. Now, there was nothing he could do.
“Damn… I told him I would look out for him,” he whispered to Arc. But there was no time to grieve.
The commander raised his sword, and a deafening war cry erupted from both sides.
The battle had begun.
Kaizo found himself swept forward with the charge. He gripped his sword tightly, but his hands were slick with sweat. Around him, steel clashed against steel. Swords, spears, and shields battered the air in a relentless dance of death.
He swung his blade wildly, barely managing to keep enemies at bay. He had no idea what he was doing—only that he needed to survive. Arc fought beside him, struggling just as much.
The man who had accompanied them—another new recruit—fell almost immediately, cut down before Kaizo could react.
Then, Kaizo saw it.
An enemy soldier lunged at Arc from behind.
Move! Kaizo told his body.
Without thinking, Kaizo rushed forward and drove his sword into the attacker’s side. The enemy crumpled. Arc, startled, turned to see what had happened.
“You—” Arc started, but Kaizo had already turned back to the fight. They had no time to talk.
Side by side, they fought on, somehow managing to survive as the battle raged around them. Bodies fell on both sides, the ground slick with blood.
As the fight dragged on, they found themselves pushing through the battlefield—until they realized they had pushed too far.
Suddenly, they were running.
Several enemy soldiers pursued them, their shouts ringing through the chaos.
Kaizo and Arc kept going, but their path ended abruptly at a cliffside. Below them, the ocean churned violently.
They turned back. Facing their pursuers.
“End of the line, boys,” one of the enemy soldiers sneered, stepping forward with his weapon raised.
Kaizo gritted his teeth. He refused to die here. By sheer willpower. He lunged first, weaving between his enemies, deflecting their attacks with sheer desperation. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually hold them off.
Arc hesitated, he stands there in fear. His feet planted.
But then—
A sharp twang.
An arrow struck Arc’s shoulder. His eyes widened in shock as he staggered backward—right over the edge.
“Arc!” Kaizo shouted.
Without hesitation, Kaizo jumped after him.
Wind roared in his ears as they plummeted toward the ocean. The soldiers above watched for only a moment before turning away.
“Leave them,” one of them scoffed. “They’re as good as dead.”
Kaizo hit the water with a crushing impact, the cold swallowing him instantly. He surfaced, gasping for air, his eyes frantically searching.
Arc was struggling, the arrow wound making it nearly impossible for him to swim.
Kaizo fought against the waves, pushing toward him. Come on, don’t sink.
Just as Arc’s head began to dip beneath the water, a log drifted by.
Kaizo seized the chance. He grabbed Arc, hauling him onto the floating wood before paddling toward the shore.
Every stroke was agony, but eventually, they made it.
Arc collapsed on the sand, unconscious.
Kaizo knelt beside him, shaking him. “Arc! Wake up!”
No response.
Kaizo clenched his fists. “Damn it…”
He looked around. The battlefield was far behind them now, but they weren’t safe yet. He turned back to Arc.
“Sorry, Arc,” he muttered, standing up. He had thought Arc had died.
Leaving his friend behind on the beach, he trudged toward the distant outline of a town.
When he reached the outskirts, Kaizo approached a passerby.
“Hey,” he asked. “What town is this?”
The man eyed him warily. “Are you a stranger?”
Kaizo stiffened. He had to be careful. Without answering, he turned and walked away.
Moving through the town, he spotted a sign: Lowland Market.
His stomach dropped.
He was in enemy territory.
Kaizo kept his head down, trying to blend in. His clothes were torn and bloodstained—too obvious. He had no choice.
He slipped into a side street, found an unattended clothing line, and stole a fresh set of clothes. Quickly, he changed, discarding his old uniform.
But hunger gnawed at him now, a sharp reminder that he hadn’t eaten in hours.
His eyes landed on a bakery. The smell of fresh bread filled the air.
Without thinking, he reached for a loaf, ready to steal.
But in enemy territory, every move could be a mistake.
“Thief! Thief!” A vendor shouted.
The panicked shout rang through the marketplace, sending a ripple of commotion through the crowded streets. Kaizo bolted, weaving through merchants and startled shoppers, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Behind him, the clanking of armor signaled the soldiers’ pursuit.
“Stop him!” one of them shouted.
Kaizo ducked under a swinging basket, leaped over a toppled crate, and twisted past grasping hands. The soldiers, slower and weighed down by their armor, fumbled after him, knocking into fruit stands and sending goods tumbling to the ground. The chase sent the marketplace into chaos, vendors shouting in protest as their wares were trampled.
From a distance, the lead officer watched, arms crossed as his men struggled. He noted the thief’s agility, the way he moved with precision and instinct.
Then, Kaizo rounded a corner—and skidded to a halt. Standing before him was the officer himself, sword drawn.
For the first time, Kaizo hesitated.
That brief moment was all the soldiers needed. They tackled him to the ground, forcing his arms behind his back. He struggled, but the weight of several men kept him pinned.
The officer sheathed his sword and smirked. “Get him up.”
A soldier hauled Kaizo to his feet. He shook off their grip, breathing heavily but standing tall.
“You gave my men quite the chase,” the officer remarked, his eyes gleaming with interest. “I see potential in you.” He turned to his soldiers. “Bring him to the king.”
Kaizo knelt before the throne, wrists bound in iron cuffs. The grand hall was vast, its high ceilings adorned with golden banners. Pillars lined the chamber, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor.
The officer stepped forward and bowed. “Your Majesty, we caught this young man stealing food. He gave my men a run for their money.”
The king, seated on his ornate throne, studied Kaizo with a thoughtful expression. “Oh? A common thief.” The king says.
And who are you supposed to be?” Kaizo asked. He never seen a king in his life before.
A swift kick to the back of his knee sent him crashing down. He clenched his jaw as the officer’s voice rang out.
“You will address him as Your Majesty.”
Beside the king, a young woman watched intently. The princess, golden-blonde haired and poised, tilted her head. Around the same age as Kaizo.
The officer asked. “What do you propose we do with him?”
The king turned to his daughter. “How would you punish him?” The king asked.
“Father,” she said, her voice calm yet firm. “If he stole food, he must have been hungry. Desperate. I say we feed him and make him a soldier. He clearly has skill—we should teach him our ways.”
The king leaned back, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. “My daughter is far more merciful than I am.”
A pause. Then, his gaze settled on Kaizo, eyes filled with quiet intrigue.
“Very well,” he mused. “Let’s put this thief to the test.”
The officer turned to Kaizo, a rare smile on his face. “Today is your lucky day.”
And just like that, Kaizo’s training began.
For ten years, he honed his skills, mastering combat forms with an ease that set him apart from his peers. His movements were sharp, his instincts precise—natural talent woven into every strike. Beyond the battlefield, he absorbed the kingdom’s culture, refined his speech when addressing royalty, and grew into a warrior of exceptional caliber. Yet, despite his training, his fighting style remained uniquely his own—different, yet undeniably effective.
One day, the king summoned the officer. “I have a quest. I need your best soldier.”
The officer bowed slightly. “I have just the one—Kaizo.”
“And what does this mission require?”
“Protection,” the king answered simply.
A thoughtful pause. Then, a glint of curiosity sparked in the commander’s eyes. “How about a demonstration?”
The king nodded. “Very well.”
A grand stadium was prepared. At its center stood a single dummy—unassuming, yet pivotal. From their high vantage point, the king and his daughter, Princess Abigail, watched with quiet intrigue.
The officer faced Kaizo. “Your task is simple. Protect the dummy. If it is damaged in any way, you fail.”
Kaizo gave a sharp nod. No hesitation. No question.
The officer stepped away, joining the king in the stands.
Kaizo walked into the arena, his steps steady, his presence unwavering. He took his place beside the dummy, eyes scanning the space around him. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready.
The test was about to begin.
The sun blazed high over the training grounds as three soldiers stepped forward, their eyes locked on Kaizo. From above, the officer’s voice rang out.
“This is a live exercise. You know your duty. Don’t hold back. Begin!”
One of the soldiers, gripping his spear, smirked. “Nothing personal, Kaizo.”
They advanced, their steps measured, eyes flickering between Kaizo and the training dummy behind him. Kaizo shifted, positioning himself between them and his charge. His stance was firm, unwavering.
The first attack came swiftly—a sharp jab from the spear. Kaizo reacted in an instant, kicking the spear aside and sending its wielder stumbling back. The other two seized the opening, rushing for the dummy. Kaizo was faster. He spun, driving his heel into one soldier’s chest and striking the other with a rapid combination of blows.
The spear-wielding soldier recovered, lunging once more. Kaizo twisted, yanking the dummy out of harm’s way and launching a high kick at the spear, knocking it aside. The soldier staggered back, gripping his weapon tightly.
From the royal viewing platform, the king narrowed his eyes. “Why doesn’t he draw his sword?”
“Just watch,” the officer replied.
Two of the soldiers drew their blades. A flicker of hesitation passed between them before one charged.
Kaizo takes his stance. Gripping his hand on his sword’s handle.
The soldiers hesitates even though the blades were not sharp. They fear his unique art.
Kaizo’s sword flashed. In one swift motion, he unsheathed it, his strike so precise and quick that his opponent’s weapon was knocked clean from his hands. The spear-wielder came at him again. Kaizo deflected the strike, driving his opponent backward. The soldier lifted his spear defensively, but Kaizo’s blade came down, breaking the wooden shaft in two. A flurry of kicks followed, forcing the soldier to drop what remained of his weapon.
The final soldier, seeing an opportunity, lunged for the dummy.
Kaizo acted without hesitation. He snatched up the broken spear end and hurled it. The soldier barely dodged, but that moment of distraction was all Kaizo needed. He sprinted forward, sliding at the last second and sweeping his opponent’s legs out from under him. The soldier crashed to the ground.
Behind him, the disarmed soldier recovered his fallen sword and charged. Kaizo turned, their blades clashing in rapid succession. He parried, twisted, and sent his opponent’s weapon arm flying upward. One decisive strike to the chest knocked the wind from him, sending him sprawling.
The soldier on the ground was already scrambling back to his feet. Desperate, he aimed a final strike at the dummy. Kaizo intercepted, his sword meeting steel. A sharp kick to the ribs sent his opponent stumbling. Kaizo followed through, striking his blade across the man’s helmet, knocking him unconscious.
The last soldier remained—the one who had lost his spear. With no weapon left, he clenched his fists and adopted a fighting stance.
Kaizo met his gaze and raised his sword. The soldier threw a punch, but Kaizo knocked it aside with his blade. The dull steel wasn’t sharp, but the impact sent a jolt of pain through the soldier’s hand. He winced, shaking it off.
Kaizo didn’t give him a chance to recover. A strike across the chest then a spin of his blade to his knees sent the soldier to the ground. The soldier in a bowing position. Following up with his spinning motion. He then with a final, Kaizo delivered a handstand with his knee to the side of his head, knocking him flat.
Kaizo catches his balance.
Silence hung in the air.
The king sat back, expression unreadable. His jaw dropped at the scene.
From the officer’s perch, a signal was given. An archer on the platform notched an arrow. A real arrow.
The twang of the bowstring cut through the air.
Kaizo’s eyes widened. He barely had a second to react. He threw himself forward, shielding the dummy as the arrow struck—burying itself into his shoulder.
He hit the ground, pain flaring through his body. Gasps erupted from the spectators.
Abigail, seated among them, shot to her feet. The king’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—shock, perhaps—but then he did something unexpected.
He clapped.
“You’ve done well,” the king murmured, nodding approvingly.
The officer smiled. “He will do.”
“Indeed.. “Medic!” the officer called.
Healers rushed onto the field, tending to Kaizo’s wound. As he was bandaged, his fellow soldiers approached, their expressions a mix of admiration and camaraderie.
“Hey, are you okay?” one asked.
“I’ve had worse,” Kaizo muttered.
“You were incredible out there,” another said.
The last soldier rubbed his head. “Man, did you really have to knock me out?”
Kaizo smirked. “Nothing personal.”
“Yeah, yeah, but it still hurts.” The soldier sighed, shaking his head as he walked off.
Kaizo lay back down, exhaustion setting in. The officer approached, looking down at him.
“You did not disappoint,” he said. “Rest up. In two days, you have an important mission.”
Kaizo’s eyes opened slightly. “What is it?”
“You will escort Princess Abigail. She’s traveling to see her mother. It’s a long journey. No harm must come to her—understand?”
Kaizo nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” The officer stepped back. “Get some rest.”
