Darkness.
Arix could see nothing.
He couldn’t hear the village.
No screams.
No fire.
No collapsing houses.
No monsters.
Nothing.
Only the sound of footsteps.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Arix’s eyes slowly opened.
The first thing he felt was warmth.
Something soft was beneath him.
Fur.
He tried to move.
His body hurt.
His head felt heavy.
He lifted it slightly.
The world around him was dark, illuminated only by pale moonlight slipping between the trees.
The forest.
But not the forest near his village.
These trees were enormous.
Their trunks were thicker than houses, their branches stretching high above him like a ceiling.
Arix blinked.
He remembered.
The village.
His father.
His mother.
The dragon.
The fire.
The blood.
His eyes widened.
He immediately tried to get up.
“Dad!” His voice cracked.
The creature carrying him stopped.
Arix looked up.
Two crimson eyes stared back at him.
The blackish-white wolf.
The same wolf from the forest.
Arix froze.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Arix looked behind them.
Nothing.
Only trees.
“Where are we?” The wolf continued walking.
Arix frowned.
“Hey.” No answer.
“Where’s my village?” Silence.
Arix’s expression slowly changed.
“Take me back.” The wolf stopped.
Arix looked at him.
“Take me back.” Still nothing.
Arix’s hands tightened against the pale fur.
“My mom and dad are there.” The wolf finally spoke.
“…No.” Arix froze.
His voice was calm.
Not cruel.
Not comforting.
Simply certain.
“No?” “They are not.” Arix stared at him.
“What do you mean?” The wolf continued walking.
Arix’s breathing became faster.
“You saw them, didn’t you?” No answer.
“You were there.” The wolf remained silent.
Arix’s voice became louder.
“YOU WERE THERE!” The forest swallowed his shout.
Nothing answered.
Arix’s fists trembled.
“Why didn’t you save them?” The wolf stopped again.
Arix waited.
The wolf slowly turned his head.
“Because I could not save everyone.” Arix stared at him.
“Then why did you save me?” Silence.
The wolf turned forward again.
“That is not something you need to know yet.” Arix’s expression hardened.
“Then I don’t need you.” The wolf kept walking.
Arix crossed his arms.
“I can go back myself.” “Can you?” Arix immediately looked toward the darkness behind them.
He couldn’t even see where they had come from.
He said nothing.
The wolf continued.
After a while, Arix spoke again.
“What’s your name?” A pause.
“Veyr.” Arix repeated it quietly.
“…Veyr.” The wolf said nothing else.
Hours passed.
Eventually, the trees began to thin.
Arix saw a structure ahead.
A small stone building stood between the trees.
It looked ancient.
Almost abandoned.
Veyr approached the entrance.
The door opened without being touched.
Arix stared.
Inside was a single room.
A table.
Two chairs.
A fireplace.
Several shelves filled with strange objects.
Books.
Weapons.
Crystals.
Things Arix couldn’t identify.
Veyr placed him on the floor.
Arix immediately stood.
His legs nearly gave out.
He caught himself against the table.
Veyr watched.
“You’re injured.” Arix looked down.
His clothes were torn.
His arms were covered in scratches.
There were dried stains across his shirt.
He stared at them.
For a moment, he remembered the blood covering his face.
His father’s blood.
Arix looked away.
“Do you have food?” Veyr’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Food?” “I’m hungry.” Veyr said nothing.
Arix looked around the room.
“There has to be something.” He opened a cabinet.
Nothing.
Another.
Nothing.
He opened a wooden box.
Inside were several strange black crystals.
Arix picked one up.
“Can I eat this?” “No.” Arix put it back.
He opened another cabinet.
A piece of dried meat sat inside.
His eyes immediately lit up.
He grabbed it.
Veyr watched him.
“You didn’t ask.” Arix took a bite.
“I was hungry.” Veyr stared at him for a moment.
Then looked away.
Arix continued eating.
Later that night— Arix sat near the fireplace.
Veyr remained near the entrance.
Arix stared into the flames.
He hadn’t cried.
Not anymore.
His eyes were dry.
His expression was empty.
Then he spoke.
“Veyr.” “Yes?” “Who was that man?” Veyr looked at him.
“Which man?” “The one on the dragon.” A pause.
“Drako.” Arix remembered him.
The black-red robe.
The red eyes.
The chains.
The smile.
Arix’s fingers tightened.
“He killed them.” Veyr didn’t correct him.
“Yes.” Arix stared at the fire.
“Why?” “Because he wanted something.” “What?” “I don’t know.” Arix looked at him.
“You don’t know?” “I know why he came.” “Why?” Veyr’s eyes shifted toward the darkness outside.
“For something beneath the forest.” Arix remembered the ancient wall.
The darkness.
The creature.
The enormous wing.
He swallowed.
“What was inside?” Veyr didn’t answer.
Arix waited.
“Veyr.” Nothing.
“What was inside?” “You aren’t ready to know.” Arix frowned.
“You always say that.” “Because you keep asking questions you cannot understand the answers to.” Arix became quiet.
Then— “What is Dark Essence?” Veyr looked at him.
That question was different.
Arix continued.
“It was everywhere.” “Yes.” “It changed people.” “Yes.” “It changed the forest.” “Yes.” “And that dragon…” Arix looked down.
“…was it because of that?” Veyr remained silent for several seconds.
“Partially.” Arix looked up.
“Partially?” “Dark Essence is only one part of what you witnessed.” Arix stared at him.
“What was the other part?” Veyr didn’t answer.
Arix frowned.
“You know.” “Yes.” “Tell me.” “No.” Arix’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?” Veyr remained silent.
Arix stared at him.
Then— “Because extreme knowledge without the capacity to handle it is worse than death.” Arix blinked.
“…Umm, what?” Veyr looked at him.
“You’ve never wondered why children aren’t taught everything at once?” Arix tilted his head.
“They’re children.” “Exactly.” Veyr turned away.
“Their minds are not ready to carry everything an adult knows.
Even when they grow older, knowledge is given gradually.
They learn one thing, understand it, and then move to something greater.” Arix frowned.
“But information can’t be eaten to get digested.” Veyr stopped.
He slowly looked back at him.
Arix stared innocently.
For several seconds, Veyr said nothing.
“…That isn’t what I meant.” “Oh.” Veyr sighed and continued.
“Knowledge can be dangerous, Arix.” “Dangerous?” “Yes.” “Like a weapon?” “Sometimes worse.” Arix became quiet.
Veyr’s expression hardened.
“Some knowledge doesn’t simply tell you something.” “It changes the way you perceive everything around you.” Arix listened.
“And if your mind isn’t capable of processing it…” Veyr paused.
“…it can break.” Arix’s expression became confused.
“Break?” “Your thoughts.
Your memories.
Your perception.” He looked directly at Arix.
“Your understanding of reality itself.” Arix swallowed.
“Can that really happen?” “Yes.” “How?” “There are many possibilities.” Veyr’s voice became colder.
“You could lose your memories.” “You could forget who you are.” “You could lose the ability to distinguish reality from illusion.” “You could become incapable of understanding the simplest things.” He paused.
“You could forget how to walk.” Arix’s eyes widened.
“Talk.” Arix went silent.
“Breathe.” Arix instinctively took a breath.
Veyr continued.
“Or your mind could simply shut down.” “For how long?” Veyr looked at him.
“For the rest of your life.” Arix stared.
“…That’s possible?” “Yes.” The room became silent.
Arix looked down.
Then he remembered something.
“But…” He raised his head.
“I remember what happened.” Veyr’s expression didn’t change.
“No.” Arix frowned.
“I do.” “No, you don’t.” “I remember the portal.” Veyr remained silent.
“The beast.” Arix’s voice became quieter.
“The man.” He hesitated.
“And then…” His expression changed.
“I remember everything going crazy.” Veyr shook his head.
“Those are the parts you were allowed to remember.” Arix stared.
“Allowed?” “Yes.” Veyr stepped closer.
“My protection prevented you from retaining what you couldn’t handle.” Arix’s eyes widened.
“So I forgot?” “Not exactly.” Veyr’s gaze remained fixed on him.
“Your mind never properly received those memories.” Arix became even more confused.
“But if I saw them…” “You saw them.” “Then why can’t I remember?” “Because remembering isn’t the same as seeing.” Arix stared at him.
Veyr continued.
“You remember the portal.” “The creature.” “The attacker.” “The destruction.” “And then you remember being carried away.” Arix nodded slowly.
“But there were things between those moments that your mind was never permitted to hold.” Arix frowned.
“What things?” Veyr’s expression became serious.
“Things you were not meant to understand.” Arix’s eyes narrowed.
“Like what?” Veyr didn’t answer.
“Veyr.” Silence.
“What could possibly be so bad?” Veyr looked at him.
“If I told you…” He paused.
“…you might not survive the conversation.” Arix blinked.
“What?” “I am not exaggerating.” Veyr’s voice remained completely calm.
“There are things that can be understood by the mind only after it has reached a certain capacity.” “And there are things that cannot be understood safely at all.” Arix stared at him.
“Then why don’t you just make me strong enough?” A faint expression crossed Veyr’s face.
“That’s exactly what I intend to do.” Arix tilted his head.
“But how long?” “Ten years.” Arix’s eyes widened.
“Ten?!” “Yes.” “That long?” “If you want the answers you are asking for…” Veyr looked toward the window.
“…you’ll need every one of them.” Arix became quiet.
Then he muttered: “That’s a really long time.” Veyr glanced at him.
“Good.” Arix frowned.
“Why is that good?” “Because if ten years feels long to you now…” Veyr’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
“…you have no idea how much there is left for you to learn.” Arix stared at him.
Then— Veyr’s expression changed.
“There is another reason.” Arix looked up.
“Another reason?” “Yes.” Veyr turned toward him completely.
“The danger isn’t limited to your mind.” Arix’s expression became confused.
“What do you mean?” Veyr was silent for a moment.
“The world you live in isn’t merely a place.” “It has laws.” “Reality has laws.” “Fate has laws.” “Existence itself has laws.” Arix listened carefully.
“And there are things that happen when those laws are confronted with knowledge they were never meant to acknowledge.” Arix frowned.
“…What happens?” Veyr’s eyes narrowed.
“Sometimes…” He paused.
“…they forget.” “Forget what?” “You.” Arix stared at him.
“Me?” “Yes.” “How?” “I don’t expect you to understand.” “But if someone somehow acquired complete knowledge of the world they live in…” Veyr’s voice became quieter.
“…every power, every law, every truth, everything that exists within it…” He looked directly into Arix’s eyes.
“…that knowledge would not necessarily attack them.” Arix waited.
“It could force reality itself to forget that they exist.” Arix’s face went blank.
“…What?” “Fate could stop recognizing you.” “Reality could stop acknowledging you.” “Existence itself could lose the record of you.” Arix stared at him.
“But… how?” “You could stand in front of someone who loved you…” Veyr paused.
“…and they would no longer remember who you were.” Arix’s expression changed.
“Your name could disappear.” “Your history could disappear.” “Everything that connected you to the world could be forgotten.” Arix swallowed.
“And me?” Veyr’s gaze remained fixed on him.
“You might still be standing there.” Arix’s eyes widened.
“But the world would behave as though you had never existed.” Silence.
Arix looked down.
“That’s…” He couldn’t finish.
Veyr continued.
“That is why complete knowledge of this world cannot simply be handed to someone.” Arix slowly looked back at him.
“So even if my mind could handle it…” “Yes.” “…the world itself could reject me?” Veyr nodded.
Arix remained silent for several seconds.
Then— “That’s insane.” Veyr’s expression barely changed.
“Now you understand why I said it was worse than death.” Arix stared at him.
The room became completely silent.
He didn’t understand everything Veyr had said.
Not even close.
But one thing had become clear.
The things he had witnessed that day— were not the whole story.
And whatever he had forgotten… Veyr considered it dangerous enough to hide from him.
Arix looked toward the darkness outside.
“Then I’ll remember eventually.” Veyr said nothing.
Arix’s expression hardened.
“I’ll become strong enough.” Veyr finally turned toward him.
“Then someday…” A faint smile appeared.
“…I’ll tell you what you saw.” Arix remained silent.
The words Veyr had spoken continued echoing inside his head.
Reality could forget you.
Fate could stop recognizing you.
Existence itself could lose the record of you.
He tried to process it.
But the more he thought— the heavier his head became.
Arix blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“Veyr…” His voice was unusually weak.
Veyr looked at him.
Arix tried to stand.
His legs refused to cooperate.
“…I’m fine.” He took one step.
The room suddenly tilted.
“Wait…” His knees gave out.
Veyr caught him before he hit the ground.
Arix’s eyes slowly closed.
He was unconscious.
Veyr looked down at him.
For several seconds, he remained silent.
Then— “Expected.” He carried Arix back toward the bed.
Veyr carefully placed him down.
His crimson eyes examined the boy.
“The effects are weaker than expected.” He paused.
“Because he has an anchor.” Veyr glanced toward the forest.
“That invasion.” “That trauma.” “He encountered something unfamiliar.” “Something he was not ready for.” Veyr looked back at Arix.
“Yet his mind adapted enough to create an anchor from the experience.” “That anchor is the only reason the effects aren’t worse.” Veyr’s gaze remained fixed on him.
“Without it…” He paused.
“…this conversation could have ended very differently.” Veyr pulled the blanket over Arix.
“Even so…” His expression became serious.
“This will inconvenience him for weeks.” A pause.
“Perhaps months.” “The headaches.” “The exhaustion.” “Occasional confusion.” “Disturbed sleep.” “Perhaps even moments where his perception becomes unreliable.” Veyr looked down at him.
“And all of this…” “…from knowing only the danger.” His crimson eyes narrowed.
“He hasn’t even been given the knowledge itself.” Silence.
“That is why knowledge must be given gradually.” Veyr stood.
“First, I’ll teach him the basics of fighting.” He looked toward Arix.
“Once he understands those…” “I’ll begin teaching him the basics of the world.” His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
“Not everything.” “Only what he is capable of understanding.” Veyr turned toward the door.
“Step by step.” “Until one day, he is finally capable of carrying the knowledge he is asking for.” He paused.
“For now…” “…he needs a foundation.” Veyr glanced back at the sleeping Arix.
“And that foundation begins with learning how to survive.” The door closed.
The room fell silent.
Arix slept.
Unaware that the conversation had already changed his life.
And unaware that what he had just learned— wasn’t even the knowledge itself.
It was only the warning.
And the warning alone had been enough to make him faint.