NHI04

Synopsis:

In the war-scarred land of Eldoria, where ancient powers sleep and kingdoms tremble beneath political unrest, a boy named Synoh Vindral rises from tragedy.

Once a hunted child fleeing with his dying mother, Synoh’s only companion was a mysterious black wolf named Fel, the son of the legendary beast Fenrir. Trained in secret by a nameless knight—his own father in disguise—Synoh grows into a prodigious swordsman, mastering the elusive Shadow Dance style and carrying the burden of a forgotten prophecy.

At the prestigious Knight Academy, Synoh meets Lux Alaric, a noble and fellow prodigy who dreams of changing the world. Together, they forge a brotherhood tested by rivalries, betrayals, bloodshed, and the heavy cost of leadership.

As dark forces awaken and the ancient prophecy looms, Synoh must uncover the secrets of his origin — and decide whether he will rise as Eldoria’s savior... or become the harbinger of its destruction.

In a world on the brink of chaos, the howl of destiny cannot be silenced.

BlackWolf Origin

The corrupted grin on Elder Harven's face began to twitch.

His arms trembled. His legs buckled.

Synoh, still gripping his sword tightly, whispered to himself, "Fel… was that enough?"

"You did well. The nullification... reached the soul tether."

Then—his expression shifted. The cruel, lazy smile turned blank, then pained.

"Ugh..." Harven gasped, as if waking from a long nightmare.

His eyes, now soft and human again, locked with theirs. For just a moment, it was truly him.

His voice shook. "My boys… I'm sorry… I—I was weak… and they used me…"

Tears fell freely from Harold's cheeks. "No! You're back now! It's not your fault!"

Harven coughed, blood at his lips. His body trembled from internal damage.

Still, he lifted a hand—shaking—reaching to their faces. A father's touch, the only gesture he could still give.

"I've always… loved you both," he whispered.

And then… his eyes lost their light.

Harry and Harold wept, the weight of their failure and love crashing over them.

Outside, the chaos of the village felt a thousand miles away.

Synoh, panting and weak from both the stab wound and mana drain, leaned against the wall.

Dred, clutching his side, sat beside him.

"You okay…?" Dred muttered, voice low.

"I'll live," Synoh said, wincing. "What about you?"

"I'm too stubborn to die," Dred smirked faintly. "Still… that was reckless, even for you."

Synoh gave a faint laugh. "You're welcome."

The two rested for a moment as the grief of the brothers echoed in the background. Then, Fel's voice chimed in Synoh's head.

"The strings of the puppet are cut. But the puppeteer still sleeps."

"…We need to report to Captain Elara," Synoh said finally.

Dred nodded. "Yeah. Before things outside get worse."

As the two of them limped out of the shattered house, the moon watched silently above…

A night of pain… and a small, tragic peace.

The Price of Puppets