Chapter 1: Fate’s First Thread

The guild's private training facility hummed with the faint buzz of mana circuits embedded in the walls. It was sleek and modern, a testament to the wealth and prestige of the Silver Talon Guild. The fluorescent lights overhead bathed the room in a sterile glow, reflecting off the polished metal panels that lined the floor. In the centre of the facility, Jae-Hyun stood alone, gripping the handle of a training sword tightly enough that his knuckles turned white.

Across from him, the heavy steel cage groaned as it was unlocked. The handler pulled the door open, stepping aside as the creature within padded out cautiously. Jae-Hyun’s heart pounded in his chest as the Shadehound came into view. He had prepared for this moment for weeks, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion in his training. But no amount of preparation could ease the weight of his father’s gaze, fixed on him like a blade pressed to his throat.

His father, the guild master, stood with arms crossed near the observation window, his face impassive. Tae-Jun leaned casually against the wall beside him, the ever-present smirk on his lips making Jae-Hyun’s stomach churn. No one else was there—just the two people whose approval he had chased all his life.

The creature finally emerged fully from its enclosure. It was a Shadehound, its wiry frame and sinewy limbs exuding predatory menace. The pale, stretched skin over its jagged bones glistened faintly under the artificial light, and its glowing green eyes locked onto Jae-Hyun with unsettling focus.

"Begin," his father’s voice rang out, cold and emotionless.

The Shadehound lunged without hesitation, claws slashing through the air. Jae-Hyun barely managed to raise his sword in time, the impact jarring his arms. They think I’m weak. That I can’t do it, but they don’t know how much I’ve endured, he thought, frustration bubbling under the surface. He stumbled back, trying to steady himself as the creature circled him, its movements fluid and precise. His mind raced, replaying the techniques he had drilled over and over, but in the heat of the moment, his body refused to cooperate.

He swung his blade, aiming for the creature’s legs, but it leapt out of range effortlessly. A low growl rumbled from its throat as it lunged again, faster this time. Jae-Hyun sidestepped, the claws grazing his shoulder. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth and pressed forward, slashing at the Shadehound’s flank. The blade struck, but it was a glancing blow, barely leaving a mark on the creature’s tough hide.

"Pathetic," Tae-Jun’s voice cut through the air, dripping with condescension. "It’s a low-level monster, and you’re struggling this much?"

Jae-Hyun ignored him, focusing on the Shadehound as it darted toward him again. He tried to anticipate its movements, but for a brief moment, his body seemed to move on its own, narrowly dodging the Shadehound’s claws. The rush of instinct was fleeting, the creature was too fast. It twisted mid-air, landing behind him and raking its claws across his back. He cried out, stumbling to one knee as blood seeped through his shirt.

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the mana circuits. Jae-Hyun pushed himself to his feet, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He tightened his grip on the sword, his determination unwavering despite the odds.

But before he could attack again, his father’s voice rang out. "Enough."

The handler stepped forward, guiding the Shadehound back toward its enclosure with a series of commands. The creature growled lowly but obeyed, retreating into the cage as the door clanged shut. Jae-Hyun lowered his sword, his shoulders slumping. He wanted to say something, to explain himself, but the words caught in his throat. What could he say? That he had tried his best? That he had trained night and day for this? None of it mattered.

His father stepped closer, his expression as cold and unyielding as ever. "Do you know what you are, Jae-Hyun?" he asked, his voice low but sharp. "A disgrace."

The word hit harder than any wound. Jae-Hyun stared at the floor, his chest tightening.

"No skills, no talent, no future," his father continued. "You’re an embarrassment—to this guild, to me, and to the family name. The only good thing your existence has brought me is a reminder of the mistake I made with that woman."

Jae-Hyun flinched. He didn’t need to hear her name to know what his father meant. If this is all they see of me, then maybe I am a failure. But Mi-Rae... she deserves better than a broken brother, he thought bitterly, his nails digging into his palms. His mother. The mistress his father had discarded like trash, just as he had discarded Jae-Hyun.

Tae-Jun chuckled, stepping forward with his arms crossed. "Cheer up, little brother," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "At least you’re good at one thing—showing everyone what not to do."

Jae-Hyun said nothing. He couldn’t. He clenched his fists, biting back the urge to snap. "Bastard," he muttered just loud enough for himself.

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After the Battle

Jae-Hyun sat alone in the training yard, his back against the cold stone wall. The faint hum of the mana circuits was gone now, replaced by the distant sound of wind rustling through the trees. His sword lay beside him, the blade dull and stained with his blood. He stared at it, his vision blurred by the tears he refused to let fall.

He had trained so hard. He had pushed himself to the brink, hoping that if he just worked a little harder, he could earn his father’s approval. But it was never enough. No matter how much effort he put in, no matter how many hours he spent honing his skills, the result was always the same.

"You’re an embarrassment," his father’s words echoed in his mind, each syllable like a knife twisting in his chest. He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to block it out, but the ache wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t just the pain of failure. It was the crushing weight of knowing that no matter what he did, he would always be seen as worthless.

"Jae-Hyun?" a soft voice broke through his thoughts.

He looked up to see Mi-Rae standing a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her. Her brow was furrowed with concern, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jae-Hyun forced a smile, though it felt like it was cracking his face in half. "I’m fine," he said, his voice hollow. "Just need to catch my breath."

Mi-Rae stepped closer, kneeling beside him. "You don’t have to pretend with me," she said gently. "I know it’s hard, but you’ve been working so hard, Jae-Hyun. That has to count for something."

He shook his head, his smile faltering. "It doesn’t matter how hard I work if I’m not good enough."

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Mi-Rae reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "You are good enough," she said firmly. "You’ve always been good enough. Father and Tae-Jun just can’t see it because they’re blind to anything that doesn’t fit their perfect image. But I see it. I see you."

Her words brought a lump to his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He didn’t want her to worry about him, didn’t want her to carry his burdens on top of her own. He took a deep breath, forcing the fake smile back onto his face.

"Thanks, Mi-Rae," he said, his voice softer now. "But I’ll be okay. I just have to keep working harder."

Mi-Rae frowned, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push the matter. Instead, she sat beside him, her presence a small comfort in the sea of despair that threatened to drown him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training yard, Jae-Hyun made a silent vow to himself. He would find a way to prove his worth—not for his father, not for Tae-Jun, but for Mi-Rae. For the one person who had always believed in him.

And for the first time, that anger simmering beneath the surface began to take shape. It wasn’t just anger at his father or his brother. It was anger at himself, at the world, at the injustice of it all. And it was that anger that would drive him forward, no matter how many times he fell.

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Behind Closed Doors

The training yard had fallen silent, but in the privacy of the guild master’s office, voices rose in tension. The room was expansive, adorned with accolades, trophies, and artifacts—each a testament to the guild’s might. Yet, the air carried a heavy unease as the guild master sat behind his desk, his expression darkened with frustration.

"This has gone on long enough," he said, his tone cold and decisive. His steely eyes bore into Tae-Jun, who stood across from him with his arms crossed. "Jae-Hyun has become an embarrassment to this family and the guild. Every time he fails, he drags us down with him."

Tae-Jun shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I agree, Father. But it’s not as though he’s entirely useless. He’s good at carrying supplies, isn’t he?"

The guild master’s scowl deepened. "Don’t test my patience. This isn’t a matter of menial tasks. His existence is a stain on my legacy."

Tae-Jun leaned forward slightly, his smirk fading as he adopted a more serious tone. "Then what do you propose? Banish him? He’s hardly worth the effort it would take to exile him properly."

For a moment, silence fell over the room, thick with tension. The guild master’s fingers tapped against the desk, his expression contemplative. "He’s scheduled for another expedition with the guild next week, isn’t he?"

Tae-Jun nodded. "Yes. Standard supply run to the Outer Ring."

A cruel glint appeared in the guild master’s eyes. "Then we’ll use it. Send him with a small team—those loyal enough to keep their mouths shut. Make sure they take him far enough into the Hollow Dreadlands. Drug him if necessary. Ensure he doesn’t come back."

Tae-Jun raised an eyebrow. "And if he somehow survives?"

The guild master’s lips curled into a grim smile. "If he survives, perhaps he’ll have proven himself useful after all. But we both know that’s unlikely."

Tae-Jun chuckled, shaking his head. But for a moment, his smirk faltered as he glanced away. "You’re cruel, Father. But efficient, I like it" he said, his voice steady once more.

The conversation ended there, and the plan was set. As Tae-Jun left the room, a flicker of something crossed his face—excitement, perhaps? It burned briefly in his eyes before being masked by his usual smug confidence. This was no time for doubt; the prospect of finally ridding the guild of its weakest link was invigorating. After all, this was for the good of the guild.

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Mi-Rae’s Concern

Mi-Rae hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. She had been walking past the guild master’s office when she caught fragments of the conversation. She couldn’t make out all the details, but the tone alone was enough to send a chill down her spine. Words like "embarrassment" and "legacy" reached her ears, and she didn’t need to hear the rest to know they were talking about Jae-Hyun.

Her heart clenched as she hurried away, her mind racing. What were they planning? She had always known their father was harsh, but this felt different. There was a finality in his voice that made her stomach turn.

She found Jae-Hyun in their shared quarters later that evening. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his calloused hands. His sword lay across his lap, and his shoulders were slumped as though the weight of the world rested on them.

"Jae-Hyun?" she called softly, stepping inside.

He looked up, his expression weary but guarded. "Mi-Rae. What’s wrong?"

She hesitated, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her tunic. "I... I overheard Father and Tae-Jun talking. I don’t know what they’re planning, but it didn’t sound good."

Jae-Hyun sighed, his gaze dropping back to his hands. "It’s nothing new. They’ve always hated me."

"It’s not just hate, Jae-Hyun," she said, her voice trembling. "I’m worried they might—"

"Don’t," he interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended. He softened immediately, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I just... I don’t want you to worry about me."

Mi-Rae moved closer, sitting beside him on the bed. "How can I not worry? You’re my brother. You’ve always been there for me, and now it’s my turn to be here for you."

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "I’ll be fine. I just have to keep working harder."

"You’ve done more than anyone could ask, Jae-Hyun. If they can’t see that, they’re the ones who’ve failed.," she said firmly. "They refuse to see it. That’s their failure, not yours."

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor. Inside, his heart ached with frustration and longing. He wanted to tell her how much it hurt, how desperately he craved their father’s approval. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Thanks, Mi-Rae," he said. "You’re the only one who believes in me."

"Always," she replied, her voice filled with quiet determination.

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A Father’s Command

The next morning, Jae-Hyun was summoned to his father’s office. He entered cautiously, his nerves frayed from the events of the previous day. The guild master sat behind his desk, his expression as cold and unyielding as ever.

"Jae-Hyun," he began, his tone clipped. "You’re to accompany a small team on an expedition to the Outer Ring tomorrow."

Jae-Hyun blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "The Outer Ring?"

"Yes," his father said. "We need Tower supplies such as mana crystals transported to one of our outposts. You’ll assist the team as a porter."

Of course. A goddamn errand boy, as always, Jae-Hyun thought bitterly.

It wasn’t an unusual assignment—Jae-Hyun had been sent on similar expeditions before. But something about his father’s tone set him on edge. Still, he clenched his jaw but forced a nod. "Understood."

The guild master’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, as though assessing him. "Do not fail," he said finally, his voice low and menacing.

Jae-Hyun left the office feeling uneasy. He couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong, but he pushed the thought aside. He couldn’t afford to let doubt cloud his mind.

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Tae-Jun’s Excitement

Later that evening, Tae-Jun approached the guild master in private, his smirk sharper than usual. "So, it’s finally happening," he said, leaning casually against the edge of the desk.

The guild master gave him a measured look. "Is there a problem?"

Tae-Jun chuckled, his tone laced with amusement. "Not at all. I just wanted to make sure we’re clear on how far we’re taking this. I mean, dropping him in the Hollow Dreadlands? It’s almost too perfect."

The guild master’s gaze darkened. "Perfect because it eliminates a liability. I trust you’re not questioning my judgment."

"Questioning? No," Tae-Jun said, straightening up. "I think it’s brilliant. Long overdue, really. Jae-Hyun’s been dead weight for years. This is just... efficient cleanup."

The guild master’s expression remained unreadable, but Tae-Jun didn’t care. The thought of finally seeing his half-brother removed from their lives brought a thrill he couldn’t entirely suppress. No more embarrassing attempts at proving himself, no more dragging the family name through the mud.

"Good," the guild master said after a moment. "Make sure it’s done cleanly. I don’t want any complications."

Tae-Jun nodded, a spark of anticipation in his eyes. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything goes exactly as planned." And with that, he left the room, a satisfied grin on his face, already imagining how much smoother life would be without Jae-Hyun dragging them down.

As the sun set over the guild hall, Jae-Hyun stood by the window of his quarters, staring out at the horizon. Tomorrow would bring another test, another chance to prove himself. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but he resolved to face it with everything he had.

"One day," he whispered to himself, "I’ll show them. I’ll show them all."

But in the back of his mind, a shadow of doubt lingered—a nagging feeling that tomorrow might be his last chance.