The barrier trembled.A man stood before it.A lawyer once respected.A father who failed.His daughter’s body lay behind him.He did not cry.He only spoke.“I couldn’t be a good parent…I couldn’t even be a good human.”
“I will make the whole world kneel with your name.”
The wind stopped.
“I abandon the name I was born with.”
From this moment—“I am Varko"
varko in his mind glimpse of last night incident Holyknights telling "The kingdom feared by the entire world… vanished" .Varko clenched his fist.
That kingdom.
Why was it erased?Why was it feared?What secret did it hide?What power did it possess?
He wanted answers.To find the truth, he needed power .Kara — the soul energy within every humanIt flows silently inside all beings.But only one thing can unlock it.
The Kerastil Stone.A keyA cruel keyIt opens the flow of Kara.And once opened…
one kara energy awaken anyone can perform jinga,arts of Kara every soul has its own and unique features of Kara
Varko headed toward the Black Mist Forest.Not a tourist place.Not a place for visitors.They say creatures live there.Beasts far more dangerous than normal animals they are called jingara
They do not hunt flesh.They hunt Kara.The stronger your soul energy—The sweeter you taste.
Varko walked in anyway. not with fear but with determination to take the revengeThree hours inside the mist—
He felt eyes on him.An old tree stood in the middle of the pathAnd on its twisted root…An old womanWhite scarfStill as stone as if the forest was her temple.
“Young man,” she said softly.“Where are you going? Let me tell your fortune.”
Varko didn’t stop walking.
“There’s no one who can tell my future.”He looked at her with cold eyes.“I am the only one who writes my future.”
The old woman smiled.
“You’re heading to Fritely… aren’t you, Varko?”He froze.
He never told her his name.“Who are you?”
She tilted her head.
“Just a guide.”Varko didn’t hesitate.
He picked up a rock and threw it straight at her head.The rock passed through empty air.
The old woman vanishedAnd from the branches above—A white fox landed silently beforehim.Beautiful,Elegant,Terrifying,
A kitsuneWhite fur,Golden eyes blood at the tip of its lips.
kitsune are not ordinary fox they are shape shifters who can transform into humans .They see names above people’s heads and furture they see fragments of fate.And when they howl—
Your body no longer belongs to you.
The fox opened its mouth a low, haunting howl.Varko’s body froze instantly he couldn’t move.
The kitsune walked closer.“Little boy,” it whispered
“Let me drink a little of your blood… your Kara smells… interesting.”he tried to resist the more he resisted—the tighter the invisible chains became.“No one escapes a kitsune" The fox leaned closer.
Its golden eyes widenedIt stared directly into Varko’s eyesto see his futureto see his destiny and then—
Silence.
Its body trembled Its pupils shrank.
In Varko’s eyes—there was no future.No light No destiny only darkness ,Endless,Bottomless.
Hatred so pure it swallowed everything.The kitsune saw something else.
A glimpse a catastrophe “You…”It stumbled backward.“You are the chosen one.”
Its voice shook.
“You will begin something in this world… something no one expects Something darker than war.”
It collapsed to the ground.Breathing heavily the paralysis broke.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Varko could move again the fox stood slowly.
“Little boy… you have time. Grow stronger. Come back to me.”
“I will not stand in your path.”And just like that—It disappeared into the mist. Three days. No sleep. No shelter. He killed animals with his bare hands, drank from muddy rivers, and survived. And finally—he stepped out of Black Mist Forest. Ahead of him lay the land of Fritely. He saw cargo wagons transporting food and supplies and sneaked into one, hidden between sacks, listening. Two soldiers guarded the third cargo—one young, one experienced.
The rookie laughed. “This sucks. We’re soldiers. We should be fighting other countries. War is fun. Missions, battles, killing—” The senior soldier cut him off. “Do you know what war is?” Silence followed. “War is where love has no place. But love and emotion are the reason war begins. They are interlinked. War brings nothing but downfall.” The rookie scoffed. “Then what about Askara? The strongest nation in the world. Why don’t they attack Fritely?” The senior soldier’s tone changed. “Because Askara fears something.” He lowered his voice. “Twenty years ago, Askara and Fritely fought a great war. King Ashborn of Fritely refused to give up Ururu.”
Ururu—the most valuable metal in the world. Even the black market worships it. It absorbs Kara. It bonds with Kerastil users. And as Kerastil users grow in number, Ururu becomes more precious. Fritely’s mines are filled with it. “That’s why everyone wants us,” the senior said. “And don’t forget the Dragon Sealer.” The rookie swallowed. “King Ashborn commanded the Dragon Sealer—the one who controls the dragon army. No nation dares invade because of that power.” But the senior soldier’s voice lowered even further. “Askara wasn’t truly afraid of the Dragon Sealer. They weren’t afraid of Ururu. They feared… one woman.” Twenty years ago, everyone believed Askara would win. But something happened—something no one speaks about. And inside the cargo, Varko listened. The senior soldier lowered his voice. “You want to know who she was? The woman the entire world feared. They called her… the Princess of War.” Silence fell between them. “Twenty years ago, during the Great War, we had everything—dragons, Ururu weapons, the Dragon Sealer, resources, numbers. But we couldn’t stand against Askara’s Kerastil users. They had ancient weapons, Astras passed down through generations—weapons that didn’t just cut flesh, they tore through Kara itself.”
The rookie swallowed. “We were losing. Even the Dragon Sealer couldn’t turn the tide. Even Ururu couldn’t save us. King Ashborn was about to admit defeat.” The wind howled outside the cargo. “And then she stepped forward.” The rookie leaned in. “There were ten thousand Askarian soldiers on that battlefield. No army behind her. No dragons. Just her.” “What did she have?” the rookie whispered. The senior soldier’s eyes darkened. “Speed. Agility. Durability. Stamina beyond human limits. She moved like lightning, struck like a dragon, didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. She wiped out ten thousand soldiers alone.”
The rookie laughed nervously. “That’s impossible.” “I was there,” the senior replied. “After that, the Askarian squads broke. Their formation collapsed. One of their Astras was stolen in the chaos. They were on the verge of total destruction. So Askara accepted defeat—but not publicly. They vanished. They rebuilt their nation in silence.” The rookie’s voice lowered. “So… who was she? Some legend? Some noble’s daughter? What’s the big deal?” The senior soldier stared ahead. “You wouldn’t understand. Twenty years ago, I was a rookie, just like you. In that chaos, she stood still. She didn’t scream. She didn’t boast. She just fought—and carved her name into history. Her legend will never fade. But after the war, she disappeared. No grave. No farewell. No body. Some believe she’s still alive, roaming somewhere.”
Silence followed. Inside the cargo, Varko listened. Princess of War—a woman who changed the outcome of a nation. His thoughts shifted. Ururu… If Ururu bonds with Kerastil users, it can be forged into weapons—swords, blades that absorb Kara, a weapon that could grow with him.
The cargo slowed; they were entering the gates. Varko slipped out quietly before inspection and merged into the market crowd. He stood there until evening, watching, studying, waiting. Then a gigantic man stood before him, huge shoulders and a scar across his cheek. “You want work?” Varko looked up. “Yes.” “Ururu mines. Follow me.” Behind the giant stood several workers. One of them nudged Varko casually. “First time?” “Yes.” The worker smiled. “You’re lucky. Mines here are good. We get housing, water supply, food. They even pay wages based on daily work. Better than starving outside.”
Varko’s expression didn’t change. “Why would a mine give luxury? If it were that good, even the king would come work here.” The worker laughed awkwardly. “You’ll see.” They walked through heavy gates, and then Varko saw it. The mines were massive—rows and rows of workers, silent. No talking. No laughter. Just digging. Everyone had something strapped to their left leg—a metallic band, heavy and dull. And everyone’s eyes were empty.
The gigantic man threw something toward Varko. “Wear this.” It was the same metal band. “Start working. At night, collect your wages.” The man turned away. Varko stared at the band. Ururu mines.The Iron Veil Regiment—the soldiers who guard and control the Ururu mines under Fritely.
Varko wore the metal band. It clicked around his left leg, heavy and cold. He said nothing. He picked up the tools and started working. No one talked, not even in whispers. Only the sound of metal striking stone. Clang. Clang. Clang. Everyone looked tired—hollow, eyes empty, like they had already given up on something.
A man collapsed two rows ahead. He barely hit the ground before boots stepped beside him—iron armor, black insignia—the Iron Veil Regiment, the soldiers who operate under the mines of Fritely. One of them lifted the man by the collar and struck him hard. “Get up!” The man cried, “Please… I have a fever… I’m starving… just give me some food…” Another hit followed.
The gigantic overseer walked forward. “You were given sufficient rations.” The old man trembled. “I… I couldn’t afford more. My wife is sick… I gave her my share… please… just today…” The overseer’s face twisted. “Then that old woman should’ve died. Why are you keeping a useless burden alive?”
The old man crawled forward and touched the overseer’s boot. “Mercy…” The overseer kicked him, and the old man rolled across the dirt. The whip was raised. And then—“Stop.”
A young man stepped forward—lean, worn out, but standing. “Let the old geezer live.” The overseer glared. “You volunteering?” The boy nodded. “Give him my food. I’ll do his work too.” Murmurs spread. The overseer smirked. “Fine.” The whip lowered.
The boy helped the old man stand. “Take it. Go home. Don’t leave your wife alone.” The old man cried as he left. “Thank you… thank you…”
Varko had watched everything. The boy turned toward him. “What are you staring at?” Varko replied calmly, “You’re a fool. You gave your earnings to a dying man. He’ll be dead in months. What’s the point?”
The boy didn’t get angry. He just looked at Varko. “I don’t have parents. I was left alone. I started working here as a child.” His voice didn’t shake. “I know that old man. His children abandoned him. They left him here to survive alone.” He looked away. “Being with your parents is the best thing. Having someone who waits for you. Even if they’re weak. Even if they’re a burden.”
He picked up his tool again. he said “I don’t want him to die thinking no one cared.”