Under the pitch-black night sky, the blood-red Blood Moon hung high above. In the central plaza of Yilan Middle School, a heavy silence loomed.
Headmaster Ximar stood solemnly on the high platform, his face steeped in sorrow. He was rarely seen dressed so formally, clad in a dignified black suit. His voice, amplified by a magical sound array, echoed clearly to every corner of the plaza.
"Students, today we gather here with the deepest grief in our hearts to mourn the loss of our great hero—General Lannis!"
"General Lannis, protector of mankind, the pride of the Yilan Kingdom! Yet today, he fell on the front lines while battling the moonfolk."
"Since the arrival of the moonfolk two hundred years ago, 6,371 human generals have perished on the battlefield. None of them ever turned their backs or sought cowardly survival. They chose, instead, to sacrifice themselves to protect the rest of us!"
"Now, yet another hero has fallen. Students, tell me—what should you do?!"
The young students in the plaza clenched their fists, eyes brimming with tears and burning hatred.
"Kill the moonfolk! Reclaim Thalandor!"
"Kill the moonfolk! Reclaim Thalandor!!"
Their furious roars echoed one after another, a tide of anger swelling through the night.
Headmaster Ximar looked up at the vast, deep sky. Eventually, his gaze fixed upon the ominous Blood Moon.
"There was a time when the moon was a symbol of peace, of poetry and longing."
"But everything changed on that night, two hundred years ago!"
"Countless demons descended from the moon, bringing destruction and slaughter. They intended to wipe out humankind completely from this world!"
"It was heroes like General Lannis—countless of them—who stood their ground, using their blood and lives to build a wall between us and annihilation!"
The sorrowful atmosphere spread like fog. Even the air itself seemed to freeze.
The weight in the plaza became unbearable.
"Though General Lannis is gone, his spirit lives on!"
Headmaster Ximar drew in a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over the crowd below.
And then, his eyes stopped at a particular figure in the front row.
It was a strikingly handsome young man with sharp, determined eyes, dressed in the same solemn black school uniform as his peers.
"His sacrifice is not the end—it is the clarion call!"
"Bill Lannis!"
In that instant, every eye in the plaza turned toward the boy.
Bill Lannis, the only son of General Lannis.
"Tomorrow marks the Awakening Ritual for you and all second-year students!"
"General Lannis's legacy must be carried forward. The future of humanity must be protected!"
"Bill, are you ready?"
BOOM—!
It was as if a drop of water had fallen into a pan of boiling oil. The entire plaza instantly erupted!
The heavy air was consumed by an explosion of emotion—excitement, frenzy, awe.
"Bill! Bill!"
Someone shouted his name, then more followed, until it became a tidal wave of voices.
"You have to awaken an S-Class talent!"
"Carry on General Lannis's will! Kill those damn moonfolk!"
"Bill can do it! He's top of the class!"
The plaza buzzed with chatter and feverish anticipation. The students stared at Bill with admiration and hope in their eyes.
"Bill's amazing. He inherited all of General Lannis's strengths!"
A girl, her cheeks flushed red, gushed excitedly to her friend.
"I know, right? And he's so good-looking. He's like the perfect dream guy!"
"My heart's beating so fast… Bill, do your best at the ritual tomorrow! We're all counting on you!"
All around him, countless eyes—adoring, jealous, expectant—were fixed on the lone figure standing at the front.
Bill pressed his lips together, fists clenched tight. His eyes stared resolutely at the platform above, silently responding to the principal's call and the crowd's fervor.
In that moment, he shone brighter than anyone.
But in the far corner of the plaza, where the crowd was thinner…
Another tall, handsome boy in a matching school uniform was watching Bill in a daze.
The student standing next to him noticed his odd behavior and leaned in to whisper, lowering his voice:
"Link, are you feeling okay? You look kind of out of it."
Hearing his name snapped Link out of his trance. He turned to his friend and, after hesitating briefly, finally asked:
"Do you really think… we can win this war in the end?"
His friend blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing.
"Link, man, you worry too much. Ever since a hundred years ago, when the Seven Sages wiped out the ten moonfolk leaders, we've been on the winning side."
"Everyone believes it's only a matter of time until victory."
That optimistic, huh?
Two hundred years ago, creatures once thought to exist only in myth and legend suddenly descended from the moon onto the continent of Thalandor. People had initially believed it was a sign of divine favor, that a new era was dawning. But the moment they arrived, they launched an invasion against the seven great human empires.
Countless civilians died, devoured by magical beasts of all kinds. Though these creatures came in many forms, they all saw humans as nothing more than prey. Hence, the humans grouped them under a single name: moonfolk.
Just when extinction seemed inevitable, seven warriors awakened to mysterious spiritual powers and forged the cultivation system used by mankind today.
Since then, humanity had finally gained the strength to fight back. Thus began two centuries of bitter, ceaseless war.
The decisive battle a hundred years ago, where the Seven Sages killed the ten moonfolk leaders, had been a turning point. The moonfolk had suffered devastating losses, and humanity began to gain the upper hand.
In this climate, it was only natural that most people believed humanity's ultimate victory was inevitable.
But Link knew the truth.
Humanity would lose.
And not just lose—they would be utterly annihilated.
Because just yesterday, he had stumbled upon a strange notebook.
And when he opened it, the contents inside nearly gave him a heart attack.
"I am Link. If you're reading this… it means humanity has already been destroyed."
Link had thought at first that the notebook was some elaborate prank. After all, why would it mention his name so specifically?
But then he turned the page—and one sentence changed everything.
"Link, your real surname is Blackwood, isn't it? A secret you've never told anyone."
What?! How could this notebook possibly know that?
At that moment, cold sweat soaked his back.
It felt like eyes were watching him from every direction, needles pricking at his skin.
"I am you—ten years from now. Unfortunately, in that future, humanity falls. And you… you are our only hope."
I'm humanity's last hope?
It sounded like the stuff of bad fiction. Link instinctively shook his head and flipped to the next page.
That's when the horror truly began.
He caught the scent of blood—thick and metallic.
The text, written in dark red, twisted and crooked, exuded a bone-deep dread.
There was only a single sentence on the page… but it had been written three times.
You must. You must. You MUST kill Bill.