NARRATOR: As Katara stepped into the tent, a thick metallic scent of blood instantly filled her throat. The dim light inside fell upon the body of a blood-soaked human woman and, right next to her, the lifeless corpse of a Mandark. The ground was slick with clotted blood, the red stains seeping into the fabric of the tent. The sight was disturbing—chilling, even. But it wasn't the gore that stunned Katara.
It was the woman lying on the ground…She looked exactly like the glowing woman Katara had seen outside just moments ago. Her clothes were drenched in blood, her face pale and still. But that look—that familiar face… Katara recognized her instantly.
Katara froze for several seconds, her eyes locked on the lifeless figure. A strange feeling stirred in her chest. She slowly knelt down and leaned in, checking for any sign of breath.
Silence.
No movement. Her skin was cold to the touch, and though she hadn't been dead for long, her body was already chilled. Katara's gaze shifted to the woman's hand, clenched tightly into a fist. Her fingers had gone white from the pressure.
Curious, Katara gently pried her hand open.
After a few careful minutes, a small object was revealed.
KATARA: What is this…?
NARRATOR: It was a pendant—silver in color, with a golden engraving of an owl on its round surface. Katara examined it closely, trying to understand its significance. Clearly made of gold and silver—precious materials for humans. But for Katara and her kind, they held no value.
She was about to place it back into the woman's palm—
When suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in her skull. A piercing headache struck like lightning, forcing her to her knees. She grabbed her head, trying to breathe, but the pain intensified. Images that weren't her own flooded her mind—strange faces, unfamiliar voices, distant memories…
It felt like she was witnessing someone else's life.
KATARA (weakly): W-What… is… this…?
NARRATOR: In her mind, she saw the same human woman from the tent—this time, alive. In her arms, a golden-haired infant who looked just like her. The woman clutched the child tightly, fear etched across her face as distant screams and monstrous roars echoed outside. A battle was underway.
As the outside sounds faded, it seemed the battle was over. The woman listened closely, hoping for silence. Seizing the moment, she crept toward the tent's entrance.
And that's when it appeared.
A Mandark—bloodied, limping, ears torn, arrows embedded deep in its flesh—dragged its massive frame into the tent. It was smaller than a typical Mandark, but its aura radiated death.
The woman froze in horror and fled to the back of the tent with the child. But there was nowhere to hide. Panic-stricken, she screamed:
HUMAN WOMAN: Is anyone there?! Please, help us!
NARRATOR: Her cries met only silence. The Mandark at the entrance sniffed the air, its blood-red eyes narrowing. It caught a scent—its gaze locked onto the darkest corner of the tent.
It moved forward.
But the beast couldn't fully enter. Two thick logs tied together in a triangular brace blocked the way. Only half its body could squeeze inside. It snarled and pushed, but the frame held.
Mandarks weren't mindless beasts. Primitive, yes—but not stupid.
This one paused. It studied its surroundings. With each push, the tent shook. Its predatory mind calculated.
If the tent collapsed, the prey might die. And that… would ruin the fun.
MANDARK: Hhhhrrnnn…
NARRATOR: With a disturbing grunt, it began shifting its body—right, then left, then right again—gradually inching inside.
The woman watched in horror, realizing that soon it would reach them. Her eyes darted across the tent in desperation… until they landed on something.
A faint spark of hope lit her eyes. But it was heavy—too heavy to bear.
Tears welled up as she turned to the child in her arms, emerald eyes staring up at her in innocent confusion. Her fear turned to sorrowful determination.
She reached under the nearby table and pulled out a small box. Opening it, she revealed a glowing green vial.
She hesitated for only a moment.
Then, with a trembling voice:
HUMAN WOMAN: I'm so sorry, Allen… This is where our journey together ends. From here on… you must walk alone in this vast world. It tears me apart, but… I have something I must do. Two things I need you to remember before I go.
First: I love you.No matter what anyone says, I have always loved you—and I always will. That love is endless. Don't ever forget that, my little golden star.
NARRATOR: Her voice quivered, her body shook with fear. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she forced a trembling smile.
HUMAN WOMAN: Second… The world out there is terrifying—vast and full of unknowns. Some people will surrender to evil. Others… will be brave enough to give everything for their friends. I wish I could watch you grow into someone like that…
But I don't think I'll get the chance.
NARRATOR: Her fingers gently stroked the child's cheek, trying to imprint the warmth of her touch into his memory. Then she whispered:
HUMAN WOMAN: Sleep.
NARRATOR: Allen's eyes slowly closed. Within seconds, he fell into a peaceful sleep.
She placed him in a large woven basket under the table, covering him with a blanket made from the feathers of a silent night owl—a rare beast whose feathers could absorb all sound. Then, she injected the glowing green liquid into her own arm.
Agony followed.
Her knees buckled as she coughed blood, pain searing through her body.
HUMAN WOMAN: It's working… faster than I thought… Please… let it work…
NARRATOR: Still trembling, she reached for a blade and stood. She pointed the sword directly at the Mandark.
Fear and resolve mixed in her gaze.
With all her strength, she lunged.
But the Mandark roared and struck back with blinding speed. Its claw slammed into her side, sending her flying across the tent. She crashed into a wooden cabinet, collapsing in a heap.
She screamed in pain.
The sword fell from her hands and vanished into the shadows. Before she could react, the Mandark bit down—its sharp fangs piercing her ribs, slamming her back into the ground.
She gasped.
The Mandark sneered, taking pleasure in her pain.
But she wasn't done.
Feigning weakness, she waited… then drove a hidden dagger deep into the beast's eye.
HUMAN WOMAN: Hrrrrghhh!
NARRATOR: The Mandark howled in agony, flinging her away. She crashed to the floor again.
It staggered, enraged, then suddenly coughed blood. Its limbs trembled, its fur turned greenish. Flesh decayed. Bones cracked.
It tried to scream, but only a pitiful wheeze escaped. Moments later, it collapsed in its own blood—silent, lifeless.
The woman watched, breathing unevenly, her body still wracked with pain. Yet her eyes were filled with peace.
She turned her head to the blood-soaked ground and whispered:
HUMAN WOMAN: It worked…
NARRATOR: And then—silence. Katara gasped. Snapping out of the memory, she blinked rapidly, touching her face, her arms, trying to confirm if she was still herself.
She stood up shakily and looked around. Then… her eyes widened. The woman's body had moved. In the vision, she'd been lying several meters away from the table. But now—she was right beside it. A trail of smeared blood told the story: in her final moments, she had crawled toward the basket.
Toward her child.
KATARA (softly): Even in the end… you wanted to see him one last time.(beat) But he was already…
NARRATOR: Katara's face softened. But something else caught her attention.
A faint scent—barely detectable, but deadly. A toxic gas filled the tent, likely seeping from the Mandark's corpse.
Katara's body could handle it.
But a human child?
That thought unsettled her. She didn't know why she cared—but she did.
Just as she turned to leave—
Something moved.
Barely perceptible, but real. A twitch. A breath. A stir beneath the blanket.
Katara froze.
She turned slowly, heart pounding. She approached the basket, hands trembling.
She peeled back the blanket—
And saw him.
Golden hair. Puffy cheeks. Bright emerald eyes.
Alive.
The boy looked up at her… and smiled.
Katara's breath caught in her throat.
A strange warmth spread through her chest. Something inside her… cracked.
She leaned in and gently sniffed the boy—checking for signs of poison. But she didn't stop.
His scent filled her with a strange peace, as if something long-lost had returned to her.
KATARA (to herself): Why… Why does this make me so happy…?
NARRATOR: The boy giggled, reaching out with his tiny hands to touch her nose.
Katara froze.
Then… her eyes welled up with tears.
She scooped him into her arms and held him tightly, her voice breaking with emotion.
KATARA: I'm so sorry… I'm so, so sorry…
NARRATOR: Years ago, Katara had also lost her family to the beasts of the Dark Forest. She couldn't remember the attack—not the place, not the monster. Only the scar remained. A scar even Void healers couldn't erase.
Only high-tier monsters could leave such a wound.
Her only memory of that day… was her weakness.
Since then, she had trained relentlessly—every strike, every breath, meant to fill the void inside her. But even as her strength grew, her memories faded. She couldn't remember her parents' voices, or their faces.
Until now.
The child's touch…
A warmth…
A memory.
KATARA: I remember… everything.
NARRATOR: Tears streamed down her face—not of pain, but release.
She gently raised the boy and met his eyes.
KATARA: From now on… you are my child.
NARRATOR: Katara carried the child outside. She knelt beside the woman's body, then brought her to a nearby patch of purple flowers. There, she laid her to rest.
Using the flowers, she wove a crown—a Void funeral rite believed to guide the soul to the forest spirits.
She placed it gently on the woman's head and whispered:
KATARA: Rest in peace…
NARRATOR: Katara turned to leave. But just as she did, she heard a whisper—so soft, it could've been the wind:
UNKNOWN VOICE: Thank you…