## I. The Last Echo of Peace
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on Zack Fair's fertile farm. The heat was a physical presence, but the slow, methodical rhythm of Zack's work kept him anchored. Wearing his worn cap, loose shirt, denim trousers, and muddy boots, he knelt between the freshly opened furrows. Every handful of soil was turned with reverence; every clump of grass, pulled with steady hands, prepared the earth for the life that would spring forth. It was a ritual of peace, a conscious attempt to build a world he never thought he deserved.
In the distance, his wife leaned against the porch post. Her wide-brimmed hat shaded her face, but could not hide the warm, almost ethereal smile with which she watched him. A glass of iced juice rested on a small table beside the radio, from which country melodies floated lazily through the hot air.
— Darling, what a lovely breeze today, isn't it? So peaceful — she teased, the irony subtle in her voice.
Zack looked up, sweat trickling down his brow, forming a crease that dissolved into a grin.
— I hope you die of thirst, you rusty old tin can — he shot back, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
They both laughed, the sound of their voices mingling with birdsong and the buzzing of bees. He put down his hoe and walked slowly across the furrows toward her. As he reached her, his hands rose to the rounded curve of her belly, now prominent beneath her flowing dress. With a tenderness that belied the brutality of his past, he traced the gentle arc with his fingertips and pressed a kiss upon it — a silent vow.
— I love you so much... even before I truly knew you.
She raised an amused eyebrow.
— But, love, you didn't even live here when we got married!
Zack offered a conspiratorial smile and leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of earth and promise.
— Still, I feel we're great friends. And we're going to make an amazing family.
Her eyes shone like the first ray of sun over the fields, a pure, intense gold.
— I know everything will be alright, my love.
He wrapped her in a firm embrace, feeling hope and warmth pulse between them. The radio played a romantic ballad, the wind stirred the nearby eucalyptus leaves, and for a moment, the whole world seemed vast and peaceful.
Little did they know that this tranquil moment would be the last echo of happiness before the Void called them into a destiny of shadows.
## II. Ashes and Thunder
Zack woke with a start, his chest burning as if he had sprinted a marathon. An inaudible scream of a lost name escaped his lips while cold sweat trickled down his face. Beside the bed, the **Black Moon** leaned against the hearth, a silent witness to the shadows dancing on the walls.
The room crackled with energy. Arcs of black lightning split the air, tangled with thick tendrils of smoke. Splintered wood, fragments of metal, and a bittersweet scent of darkness hung there, as if a shard of the ritual refused to leave. It was the Black Moon, drawing Zack's strength inward, containing his fury within those walls, preventing it from sweeping through the small village.
— Old man, wanna talk about it? This is the second time I catch you like this...
A firm, yet weary voice came from the other side of the bed.
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Zack struggled to steady his ragged breathing. He lacked the courage to meet the boy's eyes.
— Boy, give me the intel, then go — he hissed, his voice rough but direct.
Silence stretched until the youth finally spoke:
— The king... ordered a hunt for whoever attacked the Dragon Bar. They've hired Milos.
Zack remained motionless, knuckles white on the sheets.
— He'll come first to the lower district, backed by soldiers. That works in our favor.
The boy hesitated, wounded by Zack's indifference.
— You're gonna let the poor suffer... because of your and K's recklessness. You should be ashamed.
Zack's gaze sliced the room like a blade. The boy swallowed hard, his bitten lip trembling.
— All right, master. I'll warn the people. I'll set the plan. A Red Eye hunts us... we move cautiously.
Without another word, Zack rose. He slipped on his muddy boots, pulled up his hood, and donned his tattered coat. He took the Black Moon from its corner, feeling its familiar weight. The boy was gone, vanished like a shadow at dawn.
Beyond that door, the world beckoned:
— The crackle of black mist.
— The tense quiet of a waking district.
— The king's wrath rolling in like thunder.
Zack stepped into the gray light with determined strides, ready for whatever came next. Vengeance still burned in his veins, and the day promised thunder.
## III. In Medias Res and the Strategy
The clinking of mugs and the crash of shattered glasses heralded another raucous celebration. At the **In Medias Res Bar** — a sanctuary for hunters and local drunks — the air thrummed with triumph. In a corner, a taciturn man lifted a cup of cheap whiskey, his black eyes lost in an uncharted void. To some, a loathsome monster; to the poor, a spark of revolution; to the Bar, a silent, dependable leader.
Zack moved through the crowd, out of place amid dancing figures, brawls, and bets in the makeshift ring. Each victory climbed the challenger's rank, edging them closer to the ultimate prize: a chance to face the **Absolute Leader** himself — Zack.
Ranking:
Absolute Leader [Zack] – 0 Losses / 1500 Wins
Challengers:
Pacho – 1 Loss / 1000 Wins
Ace – 5 Losses / 805 Wins
Black Mouth – 1 Loss / 2511 Wins
Black Hand – 1 Loss / 3001 Wins
Ygon – 1 Loss / 1055 Wins
Newcomers:
Bilua – 0 Losses / 657 Wins
Lelua – 0 Losses / 600 Wins
Baron – 0 Losses / 151 Wins
Elen – 0 Losses / 120 Wins
— Hey, boss!
The bartender called as the door swung open.
Zack raised his mug in response:
— Pour me another, Alf. It's going to be a long day...
Alf grinned, clapped him on the shoulder.
— Easy there, boss. It's just a kid.
The wooden stool creaked as someone slid in beside Zack.
— Alf, great to see you! It's been two years. And your wife? Still keeping you fed?
Young laughter rang out, and Alf toasted:
— To your health. The whiskey's on the house.
Zack offered a faint, fleeting smile.
— Look at that. He actually laughed!
Alf and the newcomer shared a warm laugh. But when Zack fixed his gaze on the stranger, the mood shifted instantly.
— Milos is coming. If they search this district, we're in trouble. We need to ambush him before he reaches In Medias Res. Or we'll have to leave the city.
The Stranger raised an eyebrow.
— That's unwise, friend. The mist is thick. Last time we ventured out, you nearly died. The monsters are stronger. And worse: they've begun to think.
Alf sensed the tension and, with a quiet gesture, raised his hands. An invisible dome enveloped the three of them, muting their voices to the rest of the bar.
— Damn! — Zack growled, slamming his mug down. — And your research?
— Norvig is lost. Skull swept through there. Chaos reigned. The study was aborted. I saved a few and brought them here.
Silence fell between them.
— You did well, brother — Zack nodded.
— Then here's the plan. You're the best with scrolls: siphon my power, use it as a shield, like before. Then, with the hunters' map, we gain the upper hand. My informant says Milos is in Gresco, four to five days' ride. Stick to the red route, we'll get there in two. We'll skirt the Andur peaks for a vantage point. You know the Void like no one else, Orpheus.
Orpheus lifted his mug in salute, laughter lighting his eyes.
— That's my leader. Crafts plans in minutes while footing the bill, only to end the night alone.
Zack's smile was genuine as he rested a hand on Orpheus's shoulder. He met his friend's gaze.
— You're worthless, Red Eyes.
The taunt hung in the smoky air. Orpheus stood two meters tall, red eyes like rubies in the dim light, hair the color of embers, a black katana bound in scarlet ribbons, robes loose like a careless monk. A formidable presence — Zack's greatest ally.
Between sips and strategies, they plotted their return to the mist and their final confrontation with the Void.
**END OF CHAPTER**