The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows as Gram walked the familiar path through the forest. Years of distant training had sharpened his body and mind, but the weight of his childhood vow still pressed heavily on his heart. A vow to kill his father with his own two hands, spoken at the graves of his family.

He had left as a child, fueled by anger and grief, and now returned as a man—a martial genius, the pride of his family. But the pride meant nothing. Only the promise mattered.

As the last of the trees thinned, Gram’s eyes fixed on the horizon where his family's castle should have stood, a pillar of strength against the sky. But instead of the towering walls and spires he remembered, there was only… rubble.

His breath caught, disbelief washing over him as he quickened his pace. Stones and broken timbers lay strewn across the land, smoke curling faintly from what little remained. The castle had been reduced to ruins, a graveyard of memories.

“Mother! Father!” Gram’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and desperate. He darted through the rubble, overturning broken beams and shattered stone, searching, hoping for any sign of his family. His siblings. Anyone.

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But the silence was suffocating.

“Where are you?!” he cried out, his hands trembling as he threw aside another piece of debris. There was no answer. Only the eerie stillness of a place long abandoned.

And then, amidst the wreckage, something gleamed—a faint, familiar glint. Gram’s gaze locked onto it, his breath stilling. He moved toward it slowly, parting the dust and ash with his hands. There, driven deep into the earth, stood a sword.

His father’s sword.

The blade, once a symbol of pride and power, now served as a gravestone. It was embedded before a mound of earth, hastily dug and crudely shaped. Gram froze, his heart pounding as realization crashed down upon him.

This was his father’s grave.

His father… was already dead.

The weight of it was unbearable. He fell to his knees before the sword, his fingers hovering just above the hilt, too shaken to touch it. The man he had spent years preparing to kill—his father, the one he had vowed vengeance upon—was gone, buried beneath the dirt before him.

The vow, the anger, the years of training… for nothing.

Gram’s fists clenched in the soil, his breath ragged. The castle was gone. His family was gone. His father, the target of his hatred, had met his end without him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into shadow, Gram remained frozen before the grave. The memories of his past—his pledge, his anger—faded into the night, leaving him alone with the haunting silence of the ruins.

The prologue of his story had ended. And in that silence, Gram knew that what lay ahead was something far more terrifying than he had ever imagined.

His journey had only just begun.