Seven years passed since the night Rian lay unconscious in the snow under the gaze of the mysterious, red-eyed shadow. During that time, the forest behind Oakhaven Village stood as a silent witness to his radical transformation. Through brutal physical conditioning, mastery of advanced shadow magic from the forbidden grimoire, and disciplined daily meditation, his once fragile frame had forged itself into a lethal vessel of power.

Now, Rian was ten years old. Though his posture remained relatively small for his age, his muscle structure was dense, his movements impossibly efficient, and his gaze carried the cold-blooded sharpness of an assassin—a look that had no place on a young village boy.

Yet, the fragile peace in Oakhaven was shattered one chilly spring morning.

The heavy clatter of horse hooves broke the village stillness. Dust billowed up along the main road, followed by the arrival of a squad of fully armored knights draped in cloaks bearing the golden crest of House Vane—the noble lords ruling the entire district. They came neither to trade nor to offer protection; they brought the routine terror the villagers feared most: forced tax collection and slave conscription.

The usually quiet village square erupted into chaos. Women clutched their children, weeping, while the men stood with heads bowed in absolute helplessness.

"Move it! Stop idling around!" barked a middle-aged knight commander with a jagged scar across his cheek. Captain Jaxon sat arrogantly atop a massive warhorse, supervising his men as they raided storehouses and dragged away the village's final sacks of grain.

Mark, Rian's father—now looking far older than his years due to decades of grueling labor—stood in the front row of villagers beside Elena. Mark’s face was deathly pale as he watched their family's last sack of grain ripped away by the soldiers.

"My Lord... please leave us a little for the coming winter," Mark choked out, summoning the courage to step forward, his hands trembling as he pleaded with the captain. "If you take it all, my family will starve."

Captain Jaxon turned his head slowly. He looked down at Mark with a sneer, then snorted in disdain. "Starve? That is not my concern, peasant scum. Territory taxes have tripled this year to fund Count Vane’s military expedition. If you have no grain, then pay with something else."

Jaxon gestured toward two burly guards behind him. "Drag him away! Since he cannot pay in silver or grain, force him into five years of hard labor at the black stone mines! That will settle his debt."

"No! Please, not my husband!" Elena cried hysterically, breaking forward to clutch the sleeve of one of the guards, her tears streaming down. "Mercy, My Lord! He won't survive a week in those mines!"

THUD!

Without a shred of pity, the armored knight planted his boot squarely into Elena's chest, sending the middle-aged woman flying backward onto the rough dirt ground.

"Elena!" Mark screamed in panic. Forgetting his fear, he lunged toward the soldier to shield his wife.

However, Mark was far too slow. Three guards immediately swarmed him, pummeling his stomach and back with the iron pommels of their swords until Mark fell to his knees, coughing up fresh blood onto Captain Jaxon’s horse’s hooves.

A suffocating silence fell over the square. Not a single villager dared to move or utter a sound; terror had completely paralyzed them. The knights sneered at the pathetic sight, reveling in the absolute power they held over the weak in this forgotten corner of the realm.

In the middle of the cowering crowd, a ten-year-old boy stepped forward.

Rian wore a tattered cloth cloak, its hood pulled low over his face. Yet, the shadows beneath his hood failed to hide the icy aura that began oozing from his body, causing the ambient temperature around the square to plummet several degrees. His heartbeat remained steady, standing in stark contrast to the glacial fury boiling within his chest.

Seven years I suppressed myself, Rian thought, his gaze piercing the darkness of his hood, locked squarely onto Captain Jaxon atop his warhorse. I trained in the freezing snow, absorbed dark mana, and cared for my family in silence... all so a day like this would never take away those I protect.

Rian walked past his mother, who sat weak on the dirt, gently helping her to her feet before turning his sharp gaze back toward the armed knights. The presence of a ten-year-old boy walking so calmly into the middle of a tense standoff drew Captain Jaxon’s immediate attention.

"Hey, you little brat! Get back in line before I have your head off!" Captain Jaxon barked haughtily, unsheathing his short sword into the air.

Rian did not flinch. He halted exactly ten paces in front of the captain’s horse. The air surrounding him hummed softly as a thin, lethal shimmer of purplish shadow mana flickered from his palm, hidden beneath his cloak.

Breathing evenly, his voice calm yet echoing with a chilling authority that struck every ear in the square, Rian looked up at the captain and whispered coldly:

"You picked the wrong day to die."