Whisper of Fall

Eight months had passed since Edran first arrived at the orphanage. He came and went like a ghost—never staying long enough to belong, yet never distant enough to be forgotten.

At first, the children feared him, whispering behind his back, their imaginations painting him as a monster. But as time went on, their whispers changed. Curiosity replaced fear. A few, like Kai, dared to speak to him. Some saw the flickers of warmth buried beneath his cold exterior.

Yet, beyond Edran's quiet presence, something darker lurked within the orphanage.

It started as a hushed conversation.

A boy, no older than nine, sat with his friends beneath the shade of a crumbling wall, his voice carrying the sharp edge of secrecy.

"You guys won't believe what I found," he whispered, eyes alight with excitement. "I snuck into the manager's office."

A ripple of shock passed through his friends. One of them gulped. "Are you insane?"

"I saw what's in the manager's room," the boy whispered, his voice low. "Stacks of gold, letters sealed in wax, and… something worse."

The children leaned in.

"I found a list—"

Before he could finish, another boy, about same age stepped forward from behind the group. His expression was unreadable. His tone flat.

"The manager is calling for you."

The boy's smirk twitched, but he shrugged. "Tch. Fine."

As he walked toward the manager's office, unease settled in his gut. The confidence he had moments ago began to wane.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and ink. The manager sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, his expression unreadable.

"Now," the manager drawled, his voice smooth but laced with something sinister, "why were you sneaking into my office?"

The boy hesitated, then forced a smirk. "I wasn't sneaking. Just looking around." He leaned forward. "I know your secret."

A flicker of irritation crossed the manager's face. "Do you, now?"

The boy's smirk widened. "You don't have to be so aggressive. If you're worried about me talking, there's no need. I can keep my mouth shut… for a price."

Silence.

Then the manager chuckled—a deep, slithering sound.

"You're quite bold," he murmured. "But do you truly understand what you've stumbled upon?"

The boy's smirk faltered.

The manager leaned back. "You think I just take extra food, hide away a little gold?" His lips curled. "No. What I do is far bigger than you can comprehend."

His voice dropped into something almost amused.

"I sell children."

The boy's breath caught in his throat.

The manager continued, his voice smooth, practiced, unbothered. "Do you know what an orphan is worth on the black market? The young ones fetch a good price—obedient, easy to break. But the strong ones…" His eyes gleamed. "They're valuable in other ways. Gladiator pits, underground experiments, breeding farms—so many buyers, so many uses."

The boy felt sick.

"I've built a system," the manager continued. "I pick the right children, forge the records of their deaths, and by the time anyone notices, they're long gone."

He gestured around. "You see, this orphanage isn't just a place for the lost. It's a farm."

The boy gritted his teeth. "You're a monster."

The manager laughed.

"You're nothing more than a rat who stumbled into a lion's den."

He raised his hand.

Three shadows moved. Silent. Precise. The boy barely had time to react before he was surrounded.

"If his mouth is so loose," the manager mused, "perhaps we should silence it permanently."

The boy took a step back, but there was nowhere to run.

Then—a shift in the air.

The door creaked open.

A shadow stepped inside.

Edran.

His presence was suffocating. A silent storm, poised to strike.

The assassins turned, their instincts screaming danger. But it was too late.

Edran moved.

A blur of motion—his hands struck their necks, shoulders, ribs. Three bodies collapsed to the floor, their limbs twitching uselessly.

The manager's face drained of color. His breath hitched.

Edran's voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of inevitability.

"I thought you were only stealing money." His boots echoed against the floor as he stepped forward. "But selling children?"

The manager's composure shattered. He scrambled backward. "W-Wait! This is a misunderstanding!"

Edran's silence was more damning than any accusation.

Then—magic stirred.

The manager's eyes flashed. He whispered an incantation, and the floor trembled. Jagged stone erupted, flames coalescing in his palm.

He sneered. "I am a second-circle mage."

A fireball shot forward.

Edran exhaled.

He stepped in front of the boy, raising a single hand. The fire collided with his palm—and dissipated.

Before the manager could react, Edran moved.

His fist slammed into the man's gut.

A choked gasp.

Then another punch.

And another.

Each strike carried the weight of stolen childhoods, of futures shattered before they could bloom.

The man who once towered over defenseless children now lay beneath Edran, gasping for air, his face unrecognizable.

The boy, frozen in the corner, could not move. His body trembled.

Edran turned his gaze to him. His voice was softer now.

"Go back to the others."

The boy stumbled, his legs barely carrying him as he fled.

By the time the authorities arrived, the manager and his accomplices were bound in chains.

Edran's lord, seated upon his throne, listened as Edran gave his report. The noble's gaze was cold, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a wave of his hand, he spoke.

"Kill them."

Edran did not hesitate.

That night, deep within the prison, screams echoed through the stone corridors. Blood seeped into the cracks of the floor. The men who once wielded power over children now begged for mercy that would never come.

By dawn, they were corpses.

In the dimly lit halls of the orphanage, away from the slaughter, Kai stood with his arms crossed. His sharp eyes followed the boy—the one who had nearly lost his life—as he moved among the other children.

A smirk played on Kai's lips.

"Interesting."

It took only one step for Edran to crush the manager—no casualties, no wasted effort.

But that step was never his to take.

Kai had planned this from the beginning. Eight months. That's how long he had waited, watching, pushing the right pieces forward, waiting for the inevitable collapse.

A child's loose lips. A corrupt man's overconfidence. A warrior's silent wrath.

They all moved exactly as he expected.

It was amusing, really. People thought their actions were their own, but they never realized they were dancing to a rhythm someone else set.

He had given the boy a push—just a whisper, just a murmur, words meant to be overheard. A seed planted in fertile soil. And the boy, foolish and reckless, did what was in his nature. He spread the words, parading his discovery like a badge of honor. The boy really thought that manager will give me gold for something like that and also I was going to manager's office again . If I sneak. So foolish. Though I sneak. But he believes so easily what I want to say to him.

Then the wheel turned. The boy had been overheard. A lackey ran to report. Orders were given. The manager pulled the child in.And it was the same day again when Edran visit. No I mean uncle.

Predictable.

But I needed to hold a conversation with the lackey because uncle came late today.

Kai only needed to sit back and watch the collapse unfold.

And it did.

Edran crushed them all. The manager, his guards, his false sense of security—shattered under a single decisive assault.

Blood stained the ground. Bones cracked under relentless fists.

And Kai watched.

Because he already knew the outcome.

He had never doubted it.

It wasn't just about corruption or power. It was about control.

The moment the manager thought himself untouchable, he was already doomed. The moment the boy ran his mouth, the manager's days were numbered.

Kai had merely nudged fate forward.

And now, the streets whispered of justice. The orphans spoke of Edran's might. The manager's name was spat upon.

But Kai?

He remained unseen, unheard, just as he always intended.

A ghost among the living.

A shadow in the light.

He thought all of this . But he never thought that his plan were that perfect. Then-----

Kai smirked.

Because this was not the end.

It was only the beginning.

Days passed. The orphanage, once suffocated by corruption, had begun to breathe again.

Food was no longer a luxury but a given. No child went to sleep hungry. Bullying had faded into whispers of the past, replaced by an unspoken understanding—things had changed.

And at the center of it all was Edran.

Not just a distant figure looming over them, but a presence, a force. He had taken personal responsibility for the orphanage, ensuring order without fear, care without weakness.

Kai watched it all unfold.

Leaning lazily against the rough bark of an old tree, he let his half-lidded eyes trace the children running across the open yard. Their laughter carried in the wind, an unfamiliar sound in a place that had once reeked of desperation.

One step.

That was all it had taken to turn the tide.

One step to crush the manager. One step to end the cycle of abuse. One step to shift the course of an entire orphanage.

Strange…

He had never thought much about change before. It had always felt distant, unreachable. But now, it was real. Tangible.

A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Still being lazy, huh?"

Kai turned his head slightly. Rena stood before him, arms crossed, the wind tugging at the strands of her dark hair.

"Sir Edran is preparing to measure mana affinities and aura affinities," she continued, tilting her head slightly. "Aren't you even a little curious?"

Kai smirked, pushing himself off the tree with a lazy stretch.

"A test, huh?" he mused. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to see where I stand."

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Hale approaching as well, excitement barely contained in his steps.

"Come on, Kai!" Hale urged. "Don't you want to know if you have any talent?"

Kai gave a slow shrug, but inwardly, a flicker of anticipation stirred.

Not for the test.

But for what would come after.

Because change had already begun.

And it wasn't stopping here.

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