The wind carried nothing but silence.

Aelric walked along the worn dirt path, his boots pressing into the dry earth as he approached the village. From a distance, it looked like any other—modest wooden homes, fields that struggled to grow crops, and a small gathering square at its center. Smoke curled from chimneys, the air tinged with the faint scent of burnt wood.

But something was wrong.

He could feel it in the air—the stillness, the absence of life. Villages, no matter how poor, were never this quiet. There were no sounds of laughter, no idle chatter, no children running through the streets. The people he passed moved like ghosts, their gazes blank, their steps slow and mechanical.

They did not acknowledge him.

Aelric was used to being an outsider, but this was different. These people were not indifferent to his presence. They simply did not react—as if he wasn’t there at all.

He had heard stories about this place.

Once, long ago, this village had been different. While others surrendered to despair, they had tried to find meaning in life. If the world was cruel, then at least they would treasure what little kindness remained. If they had nothing, then they would be grateful for the smallest joys.

They believed that even in a world ruled by an unbreakable Order, they could still choose to be happy.

But something happened.

Something that stripped them of even that fragile defiance.

At the village center stood a massive stone structure, carved with markings no ordinary man could read. The symbol of the Supreme One.

Every village had shrines and temples, but this… this was different. The monument was not built to be worshiped.

It was built to be feared.

Aelric studied it, his mind already searching for patterns. Why was it placed here? Why did this village, of all places, have a monument of such immense presence?

As he watched, the villagers continued their day without looking at it.

Not because they didn’t see it.

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But because they did not dare to.

The realization sent a chill through him. This was no ordinary village. This was a graveyard of forgotten dreams.

Then, he saw him.

At first, he seemed like the others—broad-shouldered, dressed in simple clothes, carrying a bundle of firewood. His posture was steady, his face unreadable.

But Aelric had spent years studying people. He knew how to read their eyes, the way they breathed, the way they moved.

And this man was different.

His steps were measured, but not lifeless. His breathing was controlled, but not hollow.

When the wind shifted, carrying the faintest trace of tension in his shoulders, Aelric knew.

This man still felt.

Aelric approached him.

“You remember, don’t you?”

The man froze.

For the first time since Aelric entered the village, someone reacted to him.

The firewood slipped from his grasp, crashing to the ground. His fists clenched at his sides. His body screamed restraint.

But in his eyes—there was something Aelric had not seen in this village.

Anger.

“You remember them,” Aelric continued. “The ones who once lived here. The ones the world erased.”

The man’s breathing grew heavier, his muscles tightening. “Leave,” he said, his voice low, measured—but not empty.

He was warning Aelric.

Not because he wanted him gone.

But because Aelric had spoken something forbidden.

Aelric glanced at the villagers nearby. None of them reacted. Even when the firewood had fallen, even when the man before him stood rigid with tension—they had not turned their heads.

Because they couldn’t.

Because they had forgotten how.

But this man—he remembered.

Aelric took a step closer.

“Tell me your name.”

The man exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, something in him shifted.

“A name?” he murmured. He looked down at his hands, as if trying to recall something long buried.

Then, with a voice that was both resolute and broken, he spoke.

“…I don’t remember.”

Before Aelric could speak again, it happened.

The sky darkened slightly, a faint pulse rippling through the air.

And then—

The Supreme One’s decree came.

The Order is eternal.

It has never changed.

It will never change.

The villagers collapsed as one.

They fell to their knees, heads bowed, arms trembling. Even the children.

But the man beside Aelric—he staggered but did not fall.

Aelric watched as he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, his breathing labored. The words were hammering into him, forcing his body to obey.

But he fought it.

He still fought it.

And then, it arrived.

A towering figure stepped into the village square, emerging from the shadows of the monument.

It was a Messenger of the Order.

It was neither human nor god, but something in between. A divine enforcer.

Its face was hidden behind a featureless silver mask, its body wrapped in flowing black robes that shimmered like liquid darkness. Its presence alone was crushing—not as powerful as the Supreme One’s decree, but still unbearable for the weak.

The villagers did not react.

They did not need to.

They had already submitted.

But the Messenger was not here for them.

Its gaze—if it even had one—turned toward Aelric and the second protagonist.

And then, in a voice that was neither loud nor soft, neither male nor female, it spoke.

“Two who resist. Step forward.”

Aelric placed a hand on the man’s arm, stopping him from acting recklessly.

“Think,” Aelric murmured. “It’s alone. That means it’s not here for an execution—it’s here to test obedience. If we play this wrong, we die.”

The man’s fists trembled, but he listened.

That was a good sign.

Aelric stepped forward, raising his hands. “We are obedient,” he said calmly. “The decree was heard. We have no intention of resisting.”

The Messenger was silent for a moment, as if considering his words.

Then, it spoke.

“Prove it.”

End of Chapter 1