Chapter 2: Into theForest

Section 1 – The Preparation

Kruuuuuuu kruuuuu kruuuu.

The owl's call echoed through the trees, its haunting voice fading into the

stillness of dawn.

Above, the sky remained dark, painted in hues of deep indigo and violet. The

clouds veiled the moons, casting shifting shadows over the land. Only the red

moon remained visible, glowing dimly through the thick cover—a distant,

bloodshot eye watching over the world.

Elena sat motionless on a rock, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She

barely noticed the cold breeze rustling through the trees or the scent of damp

earth in the air. The world around her felt distant, muffled—as if she

were trapped behind a veil of memories.

Four days.

It had only been four days since it happened.

Since she heard the screams. Since she saw the blood. Since she watched her

husband, her king, be cut down before her very eyes. Since she saw her

son—her only child, her crown prince—gutted like an animal.

Her breath hitched. A sharp, broken sound.

She hadn't wept when it happened.

She hadn't wept when she fled.

But now, in the silence of dawn, with nothing but the sound of her own

breathing—her body betrayed her.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Then another.

And another.

Before she knew it, she was shaking, silent sobs wracking her body. She

clamped a hand over her mouth, as if doing so could hold back the grief

threatening to drown her. But it was useless.

Her shoulders trembled as more tears fell, staining the fabric of her cloak.

She could still see their faces—the horror in her husband's eyes as he

fell, the terror in her son's as his small hands reached for her—

A choked gasp escaped her lips.

She wanted to go back.

Even though she knew it was foolish, she wanted to recover their remains, to

bury them properly, to do something—anything—so they wouldn't be left there

like discarded corpses.

But she couldn't.

She knew that.

She knew it was too late.

But the thought of leaving them behind—of walking away from the only

place where their blood still stained the ground—felt unbearable.

A flicker of light caught her eye.

She blinked, forcing herself back into reality.

She turned—just in time to see the house disappear.

It collapsed inward on itself, folding into a vortex of light—gone in an

instant, as if it had never been there.

Elena's lips parted in shock, her grief momentarily forgotten.

A spatial vortex.

Her gaze flickered toward Kaito.

He hadn't even hesitated.

She hadn't even noticed him moving. Had she been so lost in her thoughts

that she failed to see him pack away their entire shelter?

Elena exhaled shakily, wiping the dampness from her cheeks with the back of

her hand.

They would move when the sun rose.

She hadn't asked where.

Kaito hadn't told her.

He was still working, still moving with quiet efficiency, never once looking

at her.

And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she wanted him to.

The clouds smothered the sky, swallowing the last hints of moonlight. A

storm was coming.

Elena barely noticed.

Her thoughts were still tangled in grief, her chest aching with the weight

of what she was leaving behind.

She didn't move.

She didn't want to.

But Kaito did.

His hand clenched into a fist. His jaw tensed.

And before she could react, he grabbed her arm.

The grip was firm, unyielding—not painful, but absolute.

"We need to move," Kaito's voice was sharp, clipped. No hesitation.

No room for argument.

She barely had time to breathe before the ground vanished beneath

her.

Her stomach lurched as she was pulled into motion, weightless yet not truly

flying.

Not in the way she had imagined.

Elena had seen mages soar through the sky, rising high above the treetops

with graceful ease.

But Kaito did not fly up.

Instead, they streaked forward—just above the forest floor, weaving

through the trees with terrifying speed.

Her eyes widened as branches blurred past them. Too close.

She instinctively twisted, bracing for impact—but it never came.

Kaito moved like a shadow, gliding through the gaps between tree

trunks with impossible precision.

Fast. Too fast.

Wind whipped against her skin, her cloak snapping behind her.

She wanted to scream—to demand answers, to tell him to slow down—but her

voice was trapped in her throat.

The trees rushed toward them in a blur, yet Kaito never slowed.

Never faltered.

It was unnatural.

Elena's fingers dug into his sleeve, gripping tightly as her body trembled.

This wasn't magic. This was something else.

Something beyond her understanding.

And for the first time, she wasn't just afraid of where they were

going—she was afraid of the one leading her there.

The ground trembled beneath the rhythmic march of hundreds of

soldiers.

Thirty minutes had passed since Kaito and Elena had left.

Now, the place they abandoned was no longer empty.

A battalion of knights, soldiers, and mages flooded the area, spreading

across the ruined clearing like a swarm of insects.

The knights rode on their fierce, armored beasts, their mounts snorting and

clawing at the dirt as they scanned the surroundings. The foot soldiers, armed

with steel and discipline, moved in tight formations, their eyes sweeping over

every detail.

And from above, the mages descended.

Like shadows gliding through the fog, they dropped from the sky, their

enchanted robes billowing as they landed without a sound.

Their presence alone sent a wave of unease through the lesser-ranked soldiers.

One of them stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Captain."

At the heart of the battalion, a man stood atop his steed.

His face was lined with scars, but one wound was fresher than the rest—a

burn that stretched across his cheek, still raw and healing.

He scowled, fingers twitching against the reins.

"Report," he barked.

A soldier stepped forward, bowing his head slightly. "We found

traces of a temporary settlement. There are signs that someone camped here

recently."

The Captain exhaled slowly, narrowing his gaze at the cold remnants of a

fire pit. The bonfire was long dead.

His grip tightened around the reins. His burned face ached, the

memory of the last battle still seared into his flesh.

Queen Elena.

A Level 7 Mage—an anomaly in Tenria.

But even anomalies could be hunted. Could be broken.

I've removed the title "Section 2" as requested. Let me know if

you need any other adjustments or if you'd like to add more parts to Section 1!

Meanwhile.

Kaito surged forward, his body cutting through the dense forest like a

phantom.

He did not slow. He did not hesitate.

His eyes remained locked ahead, but his mind stretched far beyond the trees

before him.

Thin, almost invisible magi-threads extended from his fingertips,

weaving through the air, guiding their flight. He chose his paths

carefully—between thick branches, above massive plants, below the natural gaps

in the canopy.

Not a single thread was wasted.

Not a single movement was inefficient.

Each trajectory was calculated not just for speed, but for invisibility.

He maneuvered in ways that left no traces behind, ensuring that the path they

took could not be followed.

All while his mind was elsewhere.

Deep within his consciousness, a second layer of thought was running. Watching.

Counting. Calculating.

500 troops.

200 Level 5 mages.

300 Level 5 warriors.

All of them armed with battlefield weapons and armor.

His mind mapped them—each individual presence, each magical signature, each

movement.

He monitored not just their numbers, but their formations, their patrol

routes, the distances between them.

And yet, he was still aware of more.

The magical beasts lurking nearby. The ones that moved. The ones

that waited. The ones that might cross their path if they weren't careful.

He was tracking them all.

Elena's breathing, the dampness in the air, the weight of the storm looming

above—he processed everything at once.

And still, it was not enough.

"Aren't you gonna fall down, goddammit?"

His thoughts lashed out at the clouds above.

He needed the rain. A heavy, merciless downpour.

If the skies broke open, the pursuers might pause, their visibility

hindered. More importantly, the storm would wash away the trace of his magicules,

masking his presence entirely.

But the clouds did not listen.

Tch.

His flight accelerated.

With a sharp motion, he shifted Elena's weight, pulling her body closer,

wrapping her against his own.

Faster.

They had to be faster.

His voice dropped into a whisper, barely audible over the rushing wind.

"Just wait for my return."

Then he vanished into the storm.

After three hours of relentless flight, Kaito finally slowed.

The dense forest stretched endlessly in every direction, but he had already

chosen their resting point long before they arrived.

A stream shimmered beneath the dim, overcast sky, its waters moving lazily

between the thick roots of towering trees.

Without a word, Kaito descended, landing softly on the damp earth.

He released Elena from his grasp.

The moment her feet touched the ground, her knees wobbled slightly—whether

from exhaustion or the lingering disorientation of flight, she couldn't tell.

Kaito, as usual, was unbothered.

With a flick of his wrist, a small vortex of light materialized

before him.

And then—the house appeared.

Summoned as effortlessly as one would retrieve an item from a pouch.

It stood before her as if it had always been there.

Elena's breath hitched.

Even now, even after everything, she still couldn't fully comprehend this

ability.

Kaito turned to her.

"Take your rest inside. I'll look for our lunch."

Then, before she could respond, he took off into the trees, vanishing into

the canopy above.

The House of a Stranger

Alone now, Elena turned toward the strange structure.

For the first time, she could properly examine it in daylight.

Her brows furrowed.

This… wasn't like any house she had ever seen in Tenria.

It wasn't made of carved stone or thick wooden planks.

The roof wasn't thatched or tiled—it was a hardened material, uniform and

smooth, arranged in a pattern resembling fish scales.

The walls were eerily perfect, lacking the rough, hand-crafted

imperfections of Tenria's buildings.

Then there was the window.

A perfectly clear surface, neither ice nor crystal. She could see her

reflection in it, yet when she reached out—her hand passed right through.

She flinched. A barrier? A protection array?

What kind of magic was this?

Shaking off the unease, she hesitantly stepped inside.

And immediately—she stopped.

The interior was unlike anything she had ever seen.

The air was crisp, untouched by the dampness of the forest. The

walls were unnervingly smooth, as if they had been shaped by a single,

flawless stroke.

It was small—just a single open space—but it didn't feel cramped.

Then her gaze landed on the lights.

They hung from the ceiling, small glowing orbs enclosed in thin glass. But

they weren't enchanted crystals or floating runes.

Elena narrowed her eyes.

She had seen Level 1 Light Rune Magic before, but never like this.

Magic was always formed, written, or embedded into

objects. But here—it was contained, controlled, burning within a

fragile filament.

How?

Magic wasn't supposed to work this way.

Was this… really magic?

Her fingers twitched at her side.

This house wasn't just foreign—it was unnatural.

And it only reinforced a single thought in her mind—

Who exactly was Kaito?

The Truth of Power

The night was quiet. Too quiet.

The fire crackled steadily, its faint glow barely pushing back the

overwhelming darkness of the forest. Elena sat nearby, staring into the flames,

her thoughts drifting like the embers rising into the night.

Her body was exhausted, but sleep never came.

The weight of the past month—the weight of everything—crushed against her

chest.

Kaito moved beside her, his gaze distant as always.

Then, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"You are the so-called most powerful mage in Tenria, yet…"

Elena blinked.

She turned slightly, only to find him sitting nearby, his posture relaxed,

gaze fixed on the fire.

She hadn't even noticed him move closer.

Kaito flicked a small ember into the flames. His tone was flat, emotionless.

"Why do you think they aren't afraid of you?"

The words struck like a lash.

Elena's body stiffened.

For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than grief.

Humiliation.

She didn't answer. Couldn't.

Kaito continued, as if her silence was meaningless.

"Do you know why?"

Still, she said nothing.

His voice remained steady. Uncaring.

"Because you're a Queen."

Elena's jaw clenched.

Her fingers curled against her lap, but Kaito wasn't done.

"For fifteen years, you dedicated your life to the King. You

nurtured the Crowned Prince. You became the perfect ruler, the perfect mother,

the perfect wife."

His voice didn't change, but something inside her did.

"So… is that wrong?" she finally asked, her voice barely

above a whisper.

Kaito didn't even glance at her.

"For a peaceful era?" He tilted his head slightly. "Probably

not."

For a moment, she almost felt relief.

But then, he shattered it.

"But from the start, you knew we lived in an era of war."

Elena's breath caught.

"This world doesn't function on peace. We live in battles. We fight

for territory. Every kingdom, every ruler, every army—you know this better than

anyone."

Kaito leaned back slightly, resting an arm on his knee.

"Yet, as the most powerful mage in Tenria, you became complacent."

The fire flickered between them, casting long shadows over her face.

"You thought no one could bring down your kingdom."

His gaze finally met hers.

"Am I wrong?"

The night swallowed the silence between them.

The Breaking Point

Soft sobs filled the silence.

"I tried… I tried… I tried…"

The words were fragile. Barely above a whisper.

Elena's body trembled as she wrapped her arms around her knees, curling into

herself.

"I tried… I tried… I tried…"

Her breath hitched.

The warmth of the fire barely reached her. Coldness pressed against her

skin, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness inside.

Her arms tightened around herself, as if trying to hold in everything that

was already breaking apart.

Then—her hands uncurled.

Her fingers clenched into weak fists before she slammed them against her

legs.

Again.

And again.

"I tried… I tried… I tried…"

Her body flinched at the impact, but it wasn't enough.

It didn't hurt enough.

It didn't drown out the memories filling her mind.

The screams.

The blood.

The sound of her son's voice.

"We were surrounded… but I tried…"

Her head stayed low, but her hands moved to her chest, pounding harder.

The pain finally reached her. A sharp sting as her fist struck the necklace

she still wore.

A crack. A tear.

Then—the slow, warm trickle of blood seeping from an opened wound.

"I was too late… still, I tried…"

She gasped sharply, but she didn't stop.

Her hands struck her chest again.

Harder.

Faster.

Blood coated her fingers, warm and slick. It dripped down her trembling

arms.

Her shoulders shook violently. Tears mixed with blood, staining her lap.

"My son… I tried… I tried… I tried…"

Her body swayed. The fire flickered.

Her vision blurred at the edges.

She pulled her fist back one last time—

But before it could land—

A firm grip caught her wrist.

Warm. Unyielding.

Kaito.

His hold was tight, his fingers wrapped around her bloodied hand, stopping

her.

Before she could process it, his other arm pulled her into him.

An embrace—not gentle, but firm.

Her body tensed.

Her mind was spiraling.

She couldn't stop.

She couldn't think.

Her fists pounded against Kaito's chest, smearing blood across his clothes.

"You don't know what happened… I tried…"

Her voice wasn't filled with contempt.

There was no anger toward him.

Only guilt.

Only regret.

She didn't blame Kaito.

She blamed herself.

Her punches slowed.

Her shoulders slumped.

Her vision darkened at the edges.

Her breath grew weaker.

Her body gave out.

And as her consciousness faded—her lips still moved.

"I tried…"

A whisper.

Then—silence.

Kaito looked down at the sobbing woman in his arms.

Her body trembled, weak, completely drained.

Her blood-stained hands had fallen limp.

Her lips still moved, even in unconsciousness—whispering words only she

could hear.

"I tried…"

A bitter smile tugged at Kaito's lips.

"You're so lucky, brother."

The words never left his mouth—only his thoughts.

With careful movements, he wrapped his arms around her more securely and

lifted her with ease.

She was lighter than she should have been.

Not because of her physical weight, but because this wasn't the proud Queen

Elena anymore.

She was just a broken woman.

With slow, careful steps, Kaito carried her into the makeshift house.

The Healing

He laid her down gently on the bed, his movements precise.

His eyes trailed over her wounds—deep, messy, self-inflicted.

He sighed.

Magi-threads flickered into existence between his fingers, thin strands of

pure mana forming with surgical precision.

With a flick of his hand, they danced across Elena's skin, weaving together,

stitching the open wounds.

The glow of particle manipulation followed, accelerating the healing

process, mending torn flesh from the inside out.

Finally, he formed anti-matter threads, erasing every drop of blood from her

skin, her clothes, the bed.

Not a single trace remained.

Elena's body lay still.

Even as her wounds closed, even as her breathing evened out, her sobs did

not stop.

She was still crying.

Even in sleep.

Even in dreams.

Kaito watched in silence.

For the first time, she looked innocent.

A bitter smile formed on his lips as he took a step back.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"Father, forgive me… I still need to follow my plan."

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

His expression—sad, but determined.

Then, his gaze shifted.

And with it—his emotions changed.

His eyes turned sharp, cold, filled with something far darker.

His focus was no longer on Elena.

It was on something beyond the window.

"Bitch… death is mercy for you."

His words were ice.

His eyes gleamed with unshaken intent.

And outside—the night remained silent.