THE NEXT

Hiunet gasped awake, air sharp in his lungs—but there was no air. No ceiling. Just endless void.

The ground beneath him felt like glass, but his reflection didn't show.

His head throbbed. His chest… gone. He remembered. The glowing hand. The incantation. Yu-mi.

She killed him.

But he wasn't in hell. Not yet.

A voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, deep and mocking.

"You're dead, boy. Let that sink in."

Hiunet stood, fists clenched. "Where am I?"

A laugh.

"Not where. When. What. Next. You're getting another life. Lucky you."

Hiunet's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because your story's not done. But don't think this new life is a reward. It's a test—and it'll be a bloodbath."

Silence.

Then, the voice continued:

"You'll live again in a world unlike your own—where magic rules, monsters roam, and strength decides everything. You want freedom? Fight for it."

Hiunet smirked, confidence slowly returning. "That all?"

The voice darkened.

"Three objectives. Complete them—or die again. For good, this time."

"One: Find love."

"Two: Defeat the Demon King."

"Three: Defeat me."

The last words echoed with such force that the ground cracked under Hiunet's feet.

He looked up into the darkness, teeth clenched.

"…And if I don't?"

"Then you'll be erased from existence. No soul. No afterlife. Just nothing."

A flash of light surged around him, and before he could speak again, his body began to dissolve—particles tearing away, screaming into the void.

The voice whispered, cold and final:

"Good luck"

The voice crackled with twisted glee as Hiunet's body shattered into sparks.

"I'd like to see you suffer when we meet again..."

"And this time, I want you to be stronger."

The last word echoed like thunder, then—

Nothing.

Elsewhere…

Laughter echoed through a small countryside village.

A modest home bustled with joy—candles flickering, hands clapping, children cheering. Inside, a young woman lay on a woven mat, cradling a newborn wrapped in soft linen. Her husband knelt beside her, trembling with happiness, eyes wet with tears.

"It's a boy!" the midwife announced, her voice filled with warmth.

The father reached down, arms open to hold his son for the first time.

But then—it happened.

A searing light erupted from the baby's forehead—bright, blinding, like a miniature sun bursting into the world. It shot upward, crashing through the ceiling and spiraling into the sky, stretching across the village like a beacon.

The celebration turned to silence.

People stumbled outside, shielding their eyes as the sky above shimmered with shifting symbols and threads of ancient magic.

Animals froze.

Crops trembled.

And then… the light disappeared.

The baby blinked—eyes opening for the first time.

The light vanished as quickly as it came, leaving behind a stunned silence.

Inside the home, the newborn's mother fainted from exhaustion, her head slumping gently to the side. The midwife gasped, hands trembling, backing away slowly.

But the father—once joyful—now stood rigid, his expression twisted into something unrecognizable.

His hands trembled violently as he stared down at the child, eyes wide with rage and something deeper… fear.

"What… what is this?" he hissed.

The baby made no sound. Just stared back—calm, watchful. Too calm.

Suddenly, the father roared.

"This child is cursed! This is not a gift—it's a demon!"

He lunged forward, hands wrapping around the baby's tiny body.

The older brother, just barely ten, dove between them, arms stretched wide.

"Father, no! Don't hurt him! Don't kill him!"

The man's eyes were wild, spittle flying as he shouted. "He'll bring death to us all! You saw that light! You felt it! That's not human!"

"But he's still my brother!" the boy cried. "Please… if you don't want him here—don't kill him. Just… take him to the forest. To the Forbidden Grove. Let the gods decide what to do with him!"

The father froze.

His breath came in ragged gasps.

Then, slowly, his grip loosened.

The rage didn't vanish—it simply changed form.

"…Fine," he growled.

He turned, storming out of the house with the baby in his arms, muttering curses under his breath.

The boy watched them disappear into the dark, twisted woods beyond the village.

He didn't know if his brother would live.

But somehow… he hoped he would.

And far from the warmth of home, deep in the shadows of the Forbidden Forest…

a new legend began to stir.

The father, face stone-cold and eyes shadowed with something dark and primal, carried the glowing infant deep into the heart of the Forbidden Forest. With one final glance—half fury, half fear—he laid the baby down among the gnarled roots and twisted trees. Then he turned and vanished into the thick fog.

Silence fell.

Moments later, the wind stirred. A pulsing hum rose from the ground as strange threads of light began to coil around the child, wrapping him in a cocoon-like shell made of mist and magic. It shimmered once—then hardened, sealing him away from the world.

Five years passed.

The forest remained untouched by man, but on this day, the cocoon cracked. With a soft hiss, it unraveled and flipped upside down. A toddler tumbled out, landing face-first in the dirt with a dull thud.

A small whimper escaped him, then a giggle.

Eyes wide and bright, the boy stood, shook the leaves from his hair, and toddled off with the pure joy of discovery. He laughed, chasing glowing insects and marveling at the dancing light through the canopy.

But as all curious children do, he eventually touched something he shouldn't.

A bark-skinned tree with shimmering thorns.

The instant his hand made contact, a needle-like barb shot into his skin. His tiny body stiffened, his breath caught—and he collapsed, unconscious.

Hours passed.

Then, heavy footsteps.

A giant rabbit—tall as a man and clothed in moss and feathers—stepped into the clearing. Its eyes gleamed with intelligence. It looked down at the boy, blinking once. Then it began to laugh—a deep, rumbling sound.

"I've found it!" the rabbit exclaimed. "The cure! I can finally go back without them mocking me!"

It turned to leave, bounding a few steps toward the trees—then paused.

It looked back at the small, still body.

With a sigh, the rabbit hopped over, scratched behind its ear, and muttered, "Ah, fine. Can't leave you to die, can I?"

It lifted the boy gently, cradling him in its long arms.

"You need a name…" it mused aloud. "Hmm… Altleno. That sounds like someone who'll shake the world."

The rabbit rummaged through his satchel, pulling out two pale, pulsating worms that squirmed unnaturally in his palm.

"Forgive me, little one," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "This is... forbidden. An ancient rite no creature dares use anymore. But you... You need more than herbs to survive what's inside you."

He placed the worms against the child's bare chest. The moment their flesh touched skin, they squirmed violently—then began to dig.

Altleno's body jolted. His eyes flew open, and he let out a piercing scream, thrashing as if possessed. The worms vanished beneath his skin, writhing toward his heart.

The rabbit turned away, ears folded down. "Let it hurt," he whispered, "or it won't protect you."

Moments later, Altleno collapsed into unconsciousness, his chest marked only by two tiny scars where the worms entered—faint, but pulsing.

The rabbit sat in silence, staring at the unconscious child as a strange tension settled over the forest. The worms—those forbidden creatures—had burrowed deep into the boy's chest, writhing toward his heart. Altleno's small body had convulsed from the agony, but now he lay still, his breathing faint, his fate uncertain.

The rabbit exhaled shakily and bowed his head.

"I pray… this wasn't a mistake."

He closed his eyes, and in that stillness, memories came rushing back—of a village cloaked in fear and desperation, of wide-eyed elders offering blood-stained sacrifices, their chants rising into the heavens.

They had summoned him—an ancient being once revered for his knowledge and healing.

But what they asked of him… was something he'd never seen before.

A disease that didn't follow the rules of nature. It consumed without pattern, resisted all cures, and grew stronger with every life it took.

He had tried everything. Every spell, every herb, every sacred rite. Nothing worked.

And so, they turned on him.

"You are useless!" they shouted. "We gave up everything for you!"

They refused to send him back to the realm he came from. Instead, they cast him out—alone, burdened with an impossible task.

"Return only when the cure is found," they said.

And so he wandered. For years. Centuries, perhaps. A forgotten guardian in a cursed forest.

Until today.

Until this boy.

The rabbit looked up again, eyes filled with uncertainty and something close to hope.

"If this works… if you live… I may finally return."

He paused, then added in a whisper only the trees could hear:

"Please… don't die, Altleno."

After some time, Altleno's eyes slowly fluttered open. His vision was hazy at first, but the soft light of the forest filtered through the canopy above, dancing across his face.

The rabbit froze.

Then—joy burst across his face.

He rushed over, scooping the boy gently into his arms, his laughter echoing through the trees like a bell after centuries of silence.

"You're awake!" he beamed, eyes shining. "You survived! That ritual I doubted… it worked!"

Altleno blinked up at him, weak but alive. The rabbit's joy swelled in his chest. For the first time in ages, he felt hope—real, tangible hope.

He turned toward the distant horizon, thinking of the village. Of finally going back. Of showing them the cure they claimed he failed to find.

But then… he stopped.

He remembered their faces. The coldness. The scorn. The way they exiled him without hesitation, without gratitude, after all he had given.

His expression hardened.

"No," he murmured. "Not yet."

He looked down at the boy in his arms, now sleeping again, safely cradled against his fur.

"They don't deserve this cure—not yet. Let them wait. Let them worry."

He rose slowly, the forest quiet around him, like it too was holding its breath.

"I'll stay here longer. And while I'm here… I'll raise you myself, little one."

He smiled again—softer this time, touched with something close to purpose.

"Altleno. You'll be more than a cure. You'll be a legend."

From then on, Altleno trained under the watchful eye of the rabbit, who finally revealed his name—Ru. Despite his unusual appearance, Ru was a relentless mentor. Day and night, he pushed Altleno to his limits, drilling him in strength, agility, speed, and endurance.

But amidst all the progress, one bitter truth remained—Altleno had no affinity for magic. Not even a flicker of mana flowed within him. No matter how hard he focused or how deeply he meditated, the energy that defined this world simply wouldn't answer him.

"Don't feel ashamed," Ru said one day, watching Altleno collapse after sprinting up a steep hill. "Magic is a tool, not a destiny. If you can't wield it, then you become the kind of person who doesn't need it."

So Altleno kept going. No shortcuts. No spells. Just raw, grueling work.

And in time, something began to change—not in his mana, but in his body, his instincts, his will.

Altleno was ten when everything changed. Ru had decided it was time to test his progress. For the first time, Altleno was sent out alone—to gather food from the forest, using all the survival skills he'd spent years building.

Before he left, Ru's instructions were clear and firm:

"Never chase any animal. Don't make noise when you move. And if you hear anything—anything—run."

But as Altleno wandered deeper into the woods, humming quietly to himself, his memory played tricks on him. His mind clumsily stitched Ru's teachings together into something else entirely:

"Never make anything run."

That small mix-up would soon prove dangerous.

He crept through the underbrush, eyes scanning for edible roots or wild fruits—until he spotted a creature just ahead. A small deer-like animal, its silver fur shimmering softly in the filtered light.

It looked weak. Easy. Alone.

Altleno crouched, ready to pounce. The creature's ears twitched.

"Don't make it run," he whispered to himself, nodding. "So I'll go fast."

And just like that, he charged.

He ran faster than he ever had during training—his feet pounding the ground, eyes locked on the deer ahead. The wind rushed past his ears, his breath ragged but determined.

But the deer was faster. Much faster.

It weaved through the trees effortlessly, its silver fur flashing between trunks like a ghost. In desperation, Altleno pulled out the dagger Ru had given him. With a shaky breath, he threw it.

Thud.

It hit a tree. Nowhere close.

Altleno slowed, his lungs burning, legs trembling. After a few more steps, he stumbled onto a moss-covered rock and collapsed onto it, gasping for air.

He looked around.

Everything was different here. The air was thicker, the light dimmer. The trees twisted upward like claws, their roots snarled and blackened. A chilling silence surrounded him—no birdsong, no rustling leaves, just an eerie stillness.

He had gone too far.

His heart sank as he realized: this was the deeper part of the forest. The place Ru warned him never to enter.

And now… he was alone.

As he sat on the cold rock, heart still racing, Altleno forced himself to recall Ru's words:

"When you're in danger, don't rush into a fight. First, try to escape. Only if there's no way out… then you think of fighting."

He clenched his fists and stood, shaking off his fear as best he could. He focused on one thought: get back to Ru.

No distractions. No mistakes.

But just as he took his first step—rustling. A soft shift in the bushes behind him.

Altleno froze.

Every muscle tensed. His breath caught in his throat. Something was there. And it was close.

Panic welled up, begging him to run. But again, Ru's voice echoed in his head:

"Don't run when you don't know what's around you. The predator might not even know you're there. Always stay calm."

He swallowed hard, forcing his legs to stay still. His instincts screamed at him, but he listened to Ru.

He didn't move.

He didn't breathe.

He waited.

As Altleno began to move slowly, his eyes caught a glimpse of something ahead—a goblin, walking with slow, heavy steps. He froze in place, eyes wide in disbelief. Without realizing it, a sharp gasp escaped his lips.

The goblin snapped its head toward the sound.

It let out a guttural snarl and charged, its crude club raised high, ready to crush him and claim its next meal.

Altleno, trembling in fear, fell backward onto the ground. Panic consumed him. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced for death, hoping it would be quick.

But then—silence.

Nothing happened.

Slowly, he opened his eyes... and what he saw stunned him even more. The goblin lay dead just feet away, its body motionless—half of its face rotting, as though something had eaten away at it in an instant.

Still stunned, Altleno glanced around, trying to understand what had just happened. The ground around him was scorched and torn, as if something violent had erupted from beneath. Then he noticed it—something red, faintly glowing, slowly fading from his body like smoke dissolving in the air.

He didn't know what it was. Was it him? A curse? A blessing? All he knew was that it felt… wrong.

Shaking off the confusion, he remembered Ru. "I need to tell him—he'll know what this is."

With a hint of excitement and relief from surviving, he began to make his way back. The strange event almost faded from his mind—until a distant, echoing cry pierced the silence.

He froze.

It sounded human. Desperate.

Altleno's heart pounded, but Ru's teachings echoed louder: "Ignore what you cannot see. Curiosity kills faster than monsters."

Though shaken, he turned away and continued toward home, fighting the urge to look back.

But when he arrived… Ru was gone.

The fire was cold. The clearing was silent.

Altleno's breath caught in his throat. Panic settled in like a cold fog. For the first time since awakening from the cocoon… he felt truly alone.

Altleno's heart raced as he darted back into the forest. Panic clouded his thoughts, but one fear rang louder than all the rest—what if the cry he heard was Ru?

The forest seemed darker, heavier, each branch whispering worst-case thoughts into his ears. He ran faster, his legs moving on instinct, until he reached the source of the sound.

There—beneath the shadow of a massive tree—lay Ru.

The ancient rabbit, the one who raised him, who taught him, who protected him… was collapsed on the ground. Blood matted his fur, and deep wounds stretched across his side. One ear was torn. His breathing was shallow, strained.

"R-Ru…?" Altleno whispered, stepping forward, voice trembling.

Ru's eyes opened just slightly, meeting Altleno's. There was pain in them, but also something else—pride.

"You… heard me," Ru rasped, a small, strained smile pulling at his lips.

Altleno fell to his knees beside him, unsure of what to do, terror clawing up his chest. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not Ru.

Altleno dropped beside Ru, tears brimming in his eyes. "What happened?! Who did this to you?!"

Ru coughed, a wet, painful sound. Blood clung to his teeth. "Boy… I was so worried," he whispered, forcing a strained grin. "You took too long… I thought something happened to you. I'm glad… you're okay."

Altleno grabbed Ru's paw, his voice trembling. "Tell me what to do! I'll fix this—I'll help you, just tell me how!"

But Ru shook his head slowly. "No… there's nothing you can do. Not to save me." He winced, claws clutching his wounded side. "The horn of a silver deer—it's corrosive… and laced with poison. It's spreading. The only way you can help… is to cut away the infected flesh."

Altleno's hands froze. "Cut…?"

"Don't flinch. You've got to be strong now. I taught you to survive—not to mourn."

Ru reached into the folds of his fur and pulled out a small crystal vial glowing with soft blue light. He pressed it into Altleno's hand.

"This," Ru said, "is the cure. The one I've spent all these years perfecting. Since I can't return… you must go in my place. Head east—there's a village beyond the black cliffs. Give them this. Save them."

Altleno stared at the vial, his vision blurring with tears. "But… what about you?"

Ru smiled gently. "I was never meant to stay long. But I'm glad I did. You gave my exile meaning, Altleno… Now go. Be more than what they left in that forest."

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