Approximately six years later—

  A man stepped down from a caravan, boots hitting the dirt with a heavy confidence.

  His hair was neatly parted down the middle, his body well-defined beneath the polished plates of an Aquilonis knight. Brown hair brushed his shoulders as he straightened himself.

  “Thank you, Lonesome,” the man said, flicking a coin with practiced ease.

  Morty—slightly older, a few wrinkles by his eyes, but still very much Morty—caught it without looking. His sharp posture hadn’t faded one bit; if anything, he wore time like a fashionable cloak.

  “Thank you, Sir…” Morty began grandly, tilting his head to the clouds.

  “Reid,” the man replied.

  It was Reid.

  Only now he stood taller, broader, more composed—confidence radiating off him in a steady, warm wave. Kids pointed at him, whispering excitedly, nudging each other as if a living legend had stepped straight out of one of their storybooks.

  Reid simply answered them all with genuine smiles as he approached the main gates of Promia.

  Outside the gate stood two chubby figures chatting animatedly—one shorter with curly hair and a scar on his cheek, the other tall and round-faced with brown hair. Reid recognized them instantly and panicked as if he’d spotted a pair of wild beasts.

  He yanked his hood over his head and tried to slip by unnoticed.

  He failed immediately.

  “Hey, you!” the curly-haired one barked, blocking his way. “Hood down. We need to see your face before you leave the city.”

  Reid attempted a sneak-step to the side, but the taller one lumbered into place like a living wall.

  “Oi,” he said sternly, “do what he says or things get messy.”

  Reid let out the world’s deepest, most defeated sigh.

  He lowered his hood.

  Both men froze. Their eyes widened into comically huge circles—first uncanny, then trembling with recognition.

  And then they erupted.

  “REIIIID! YOU’RE BACK AGAIN!”

  It was Brog and Drool. Of course it was.

  Six years had passed, and both had somehow managed to grow heavier, rounder, and far more dramatic.

  They lunged toward him with open arms.

  “Absolutely not—stop, stop. No hugs,” Reid said, putting both hands up as if stopping two charging bears.

  Brog threw his head back dramatically, staring at the sun like he was in a tragic opera.

  “No… I’m sorry, Reid,” he whispered gravely. “But the curse… the curse compels us.”

  Drool nodded with sacred seriousness.

  “As you know… terrible things happen when we don’t hug six times.”

  Reid rubbed his temples.

  “Okay, you fools. Come here.”

  He opened his arms, resigned to his fate.

  They crushed him in the most enthusiastic group hug any man has ever endured.

  After finally escaping their grip, Reid waved.

  “Well, see you soon, guys.”

  He walked off.

  Behind him, Brog snickered.

  “Hehehe.”

  Drool glanced at him suspiciously. “What are you laughing at, Brog?”

  Brog smirked with shameless pride.

  “I hugged him seven times.”

  Drool’s eyes exploded open as if his entire universe had collapsed into dust.

  “YOU… YOU MONSTER!”

  Reid heard the yell before he even turned.

  Drool was charging at him full-speed, arms spread like a deranged bird of affection.

  “REIIIID! COME GIVE ME ONE MORE HUG!”

  His voice echoed down the street—equal parts desperate and terrifying.

  Reid felt something primal awaken within him.

  Pure, ancient fear.

  He ran.

  He ran like a man being hunted by the gods themselves.

  By the time he reached the tavern, he was out of breath, chest burning. He reached for the door—

  But it exploded inward before he could touch it.

  A tiny figure—no older than seven—launched out like a fired arrow and crashed straight into Reid’s chest, clinging to him with the shocking precision of a homing missile.

  “You’ve come back again!!”

  Reid barely had time to register the voice before laughter burst out of him—raw, bright, and impossibly happy. His smile stretched wider and wider as he wrapped his arms around the tiny missile clinging to his chest.

  “Of course I did,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair lovingly. “I will always come back for you…

  Arttu.”

  It was Arttu.

  The baby he once held with trembling hands was now a little boy—maybe seven, maybe eight—with mismatched eyes that caught the world differently. One black, one shining like a silver dragon’s, reflecting every glimmer of light. His hair was black like Reid’s, carefully parted down the middle, a perfect imitation.

  “Look!” Arttu chirped proudly, puffing his chest. “I made my hair like yours.”

  Reid softened instantly.

  “Yeah… you’ve become incredibly handsome, Arttu.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I think—you might’ve even become more handsome than me.”

  Arttu burst into giggles and hugged Reid again, tighter this time, his little arms squeezing with all the force his small frame could manage.

  Footsteps pittered behind him.

  “BROTHER REID!”

  A freckled girl with bright yellow hair barreled into them, arms open wide. She wrapped both Reid and Arttu in an enthusiastic group hug that nearly knocked the wind out of him.

  Reid blinked in surprise.

  “Fiona? Fiona! Did you… did you paint your hair?”

  She spun once, making her hair flutter like sunlight.

  “Yes! How is it?”

  Reid placed a gentle hand on top of her head.

  “You’ve become far more beautiful,” he said with genuine admiration.

  Fiona’s cheeks turned rosy pink as she bowed her head shyly. “Thank you…”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  And then—

  Heavy footsteps.

  A shadow.

  A presence like a charging bear.

  Reid barely had time to brace himself before Betty—the unstoppable force of nature herself—stormed toward him with the determination of someone who could tackle a brick wall into submission.

  “MY BOY! You grew bigger!” she roared proudly.

  She scooped him up as if he weighed nothing, pulling him into a crushing embrace and patting his head so hard his spine questioned its existence. Arttu and Fiona were pushed aside like leaves in a gale.

  Reid wheezed but laughed through it, surrounded by the warmth—chaotic, overwhelming, perfect warmth—of the people he had missed more than he could ever say aloud.

  A familiar voice drifted from inside the tavern, warm and rasped by age.

  “You’ve come back, boy.”

  Reid’s eyes lit up instantly.

  Standing in the doorway was Roy, hair nearly snow-white now, but his posture just as proud as ever. Time had marked him, but it hadn’t dimmed him.

  “Come here,” Roy said, opening his arms. “Let me hug you too.”

  Reid walked toward him slowly, smiling like a child returning home after years away. The moment their arms wrapped around each other—

  CRACK.

  Reid’s spine questioned its life choices.

  “R–Roy— I think… that’s enough—!” Reid wheezed, gripping Roy’s shoulder for dear life.

  “Oh, Reid, I really missed you,” Roy said, completely ignoring the fact he’d nearly snapped the boy in half. Tears were already gathering at the corners of his eyes. “You barely visit anymore… Ever since you became a knight.”

  He tapped his chin dramatically.

  “And what were they calling you again? The Red Rampart? The Red Reaper? No, no, that’s too rough… Something softer…”

  Reid straightened proudly, ready to deliver the title himself.

  “The Red Ro—”

  “THE RED ROSE!” Arttu interrupted loudly, face lighting up with pure innocent excitement.

  Roy burst into laughter and ruffled Arttu’s hair.

  “Yes! That’s the one! The Red Rose.”

  Reid’s proud expression folded into embarrassed coughing.

  Roy continued, eyes gleaming with mischief,

  “And who was that girl you were on a mission with? The one you always talk ab—”

  Reid slapped a hand over Roy’s mouth so fast that a gust of wind followed the motion.

  “Shall we go in?” he said quickly, smiling through rising panic.

  Arttu and Fiona exchanged a synchronized look—wide-eyed, curious, the kind only two children sensing forbidden gossip could make.

  Betty, however—Betty was not satisfied.

  She crossed her arms, towering like a mother bear who had just smelled secrets.

  “Who is who, Reid?” she demanded, leaning in. “Could you tell me too?”

  Reid froze.

  Because Betty was the type of person who would ask one question…

  then ten more…

  then fifty more…

  until she had extracted every last detail like a cheerful interrogator.

  Which was exactly why Reid did not want to tell her anything.

  He laughed nervously.

  “Ha… ha… let’s… just go inside.”

  Betty narrowed her eyes with the determination of a woman preparing to win a battle.

  The questioning, Reid knew, was only just beginning.

  Betty grabbed Reid by the wrist before he could escape and dragged him down the hall with the unstoppable determination of a woman who smelled romance. She shoved him into his old room and slammed the door shut behind them.

  She spun around, eyes sparkling like a hunter cornering her prey.

  “Now,” she said, almost vibrating with excitement, “who is this girl? Where’s she from? When did you—”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll answer, please just stop for a second,” Reid pleaded, lifting his hands in surrender. He sighed, cheeks already warming.

  “Her name is Emilia. You remember the graduation ceremony? The girl standing next to me? That’s her.”

  Betty squinted, trying to dig through years of memories.

  “Hmm… I don’t really remember her. I only remember…” She paused, then snapped her fingers. “Ah! That man who kept screaming your name in the crowd like he was trying to be a girl—‘I love you, Reid! You’re the best, Reid!’ That one!”

  Reid stared at the floor.

  “Yeah. My real lover,” he muttered under his breath. Then louder: “That’s Harven. Harven Klutz. The one who took me to the academy.”

  Betty blinked.

  “Oh! That guy? I always thought he’d be cold and serious. Never would’ve guessed he was like… that.”

  “Yeah, so let’s forget about him,” Reid said quickly. “And please don’t ask more questions. Emilia and I are just… friends.”

  Betty raised an eyebrow, eyes sliding toward him with a knowing glint.

  “Oh, you are?”

  Reid felt his ears burning.

  He could hide from monsters, survive combat, even outrun Drool for his life—but he couldn’t hide from Betty’s stare.

  “Then why is your face the same shade as your nickname, Red Rose? Is that why they call you that?” she teased, grinning.

  Reid lowered his head, smiling shyly at the floor.

  “…I guess I like her. A little.”

  Betty softened.

  She stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her voice grew quieter, calmer—warmer than he’d ever heard it.

  “Reid… if you really love her, don’t wait,” she said. “Love doesn’t wait.”

  She smiled with a tenderness that came from somewhere deep.

  “Roy was just like you, you know. Red as a tomato around me, but never said a word. I could’ve waited forever for him—I loved him too—but waiting is dangerous. It steals years.”

  She took a breath, the kind filled with memories.

  “I told him I loved him first. If I hadn’t… who knows? Maybe Fiona wouldn’t exist. Maybe you and Arttu would’ve been alone in the snow with no one to save you. A whole life can change from one choice.”

  Her eyes glistened just slightly.

  “So if your heart’s already choosing her… don’t let fear make the choice for you.”

  She gave his shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze.

  “Don’t wait, Reid. Not when it comes to love.”

  “Anyway,” Betty said, brushing off her skirt as she stood, “let’s get back before the kids revolt for having their beloved Reid stolen.”

  Reid chuckled and followed her out, scratching the back of his head.

  Inside, chaos had erupted.

  “ARTTU, GIVE BACK MY DOLL!” Fiona shrieked as she chased him in frantic circles.

  Arttu laughed breathlessly, clutching the doll above his head.

  “If you want it, come and catch me!”

  They tore across the tavern, bumping into chairs and nearly knocking over a pan Roy was holding.

  “Hey—HEY! You two, stop that! I can’t concentrate!” Roy barked, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile.

  The chase ended when Reid swept Arttu up effortlessly and tickled him until the boy melted into uncontrollable giggles. Fiona reclaimed her doll triumphantly, scolding her brother while hugging the rescued toy.

  Not long after, Roy called, “Dinner’s ready!”

  Everyone rushed to help. Fiona carried spoons too big for her hands, Arttu stacked wooden cups like treasure, and Reid set the plates with practiced familiarity. Betty and Roy worked side by side at the counter, whispering and smiling in that wordless way only deeply bonded couples could.

  The meal was shepherd’s pie—golden, steaming, smelling of thyme and roasted onion. Reid’s heart warmed at the sight of it; this was the first meal he’d ever had in this tavern years ago, and the taste had never changed.

  They ate slowly, laughing, teasing, trading stories.

  Fiona bragged about catching three snowflakes on her tongue at once.

  Arttu swore he saw a wolf earlier (it was a squirrel).

  Roy pretended to be offended by the accusation that his cooking was “less salty than last winter.”

  Betty leaned her head on Roy’s shoulder, exhausted and content.

  It was peace.

  It was home.

  It was everything Reid thought he had lost long ago.

  Later, when the children roped him into a game with worn wooden soldiers, the fireplace dimmed to embers and then died with a quiet hiss.

  Roy sighed.

  “We’re out of matches.”

  Everyone groaned like it was the end of the world.

  “I’ll go get some from the town,” Roy said, shuffling toward his coat.

  Reid stopped him with a gentle hand.

  “I’ve got it. You finish resting.”

  He tugged on his coat and boots and slipped into the cold night.

  Outside, he found Brog and Drool huddled together, their breath fogging the air.

  “Hey, you two.”

  Drool’s eyes lit up instantly. “Oh! Reid! You came to give me another hug?”

  Reid stepped back. “Absolutely not.”

  He sighed. “Do you know where I can buy matches?”

  The two looked at one another with the blankest expression known to mankind.

  Reid dragged his palm down his face.

  “Why do I even bother.”

  “Wait!” Brog barked. “Shops are closed now. Only place open is the Iron Pike.”

  “Oh. Thanks, Uncle Brog.”

  He walked off to the sound of Brog’s chuckling and Drool whining about the smack to the back of his head.

  At the Iron Pike, a chubby woman with coarse hair covering her ears greeted him.

  “Evening. Need something?”

  “Do you have matches?”

  She stared at him, stunned.

  “…Don’t you remember me?”

  Reid blinked. “No?”

  “I’m Liane. You came here with Sir Harven once.”

  He hesitated—then he saw the shape of her ears, the same as before.

  But the beautiful girl he once knew had… changed.

  Very much.

  “Of course I remember,” Reid lied awkwardly. “You look exactly the same.”

  A bit harsh, he realized too late.

  She shrugged. “Matches?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She handed him some.

  He left fifty routs on the counter.

  “That’s too mu—”

  But when she counted it, her protest evaporated. She pocketed it without looking up.

  The walk back felt longer than it should have.

  The forest wind hissed like it was trying to warn him.

  A strange heaviness pulled on his chest—but he was still warm from dinner, from laughter, from the feeling of belonging.

  He noticed the tavern was dark.

  He frowned.

  “Did the lamps go out too?”

  He pushed the door open slowly.

  And the world broke.

  A cold, metallic smell hit him like a wall—so sharp it stole the breath from his lungs.

  The tavern was silent.

  Too silent.

  Then he saw it.

  The overturned chairs.

  The shattered plates.

  The dark stains soaking the wooden floorboards.

  And the bodies.

  Betty—her hand stretched toward Roy as if she had been crawling to him.

  Roy—slumped forward like he’d tried to shield her with his body.

  Fiona—small, limp, her doll lying beside her, its yarn hair stained red.

  Reid’s heart stopped.

  Something in him ripped.

  It was not real.

  It could not be real.

  They were just eating dinner.

  They were just laughing.

  They were just—

  They were—

  A choked sob cut through the silence.

  Reid’s gaze snapped toward it.

  Arttu.

  The small boy sat curled in the corner, shaking violently, tears streaming down his face. Next to him lay another body—unknown, twisted unnaturally.

  Arttu’s voice broke into pieces as he rocked back and forth.

  “It wasn’t my fault… it wasn’t my fault… I didn’t do anything… I swear… it wasn’t my fault…”

  Reid fell to his knees beside him, hands trembling uncontrollably.

  He pulled the boy against his chest, feeling Arttu clutch at him like a drowning child.

  “I know, Arttu,” Reid whispered, voice shattering. “I know. I’m here.”

  But the warmth of the home he loved was gone.

  Only cold remained.

  And the sound of Arttu’s sobs.

  And the smell of blood that would never leave his memory.

  by Rowen_Kun

  With two bodies, they will rise above all others — twice as strong, twice as unstoppable.

  Justin was just an ordinary college student when the world ended. In an instant, civilization collapsed — and the planet was overrun by monsters, blood, and ruthless rules of evolution. Now, he finds himself trapped in a brutal sort of tutorial, where surviving means hunting, fighting, and learning faster than anyone else.

  But Justin carries something no one else does: he awakens in two different bodies, both sharing the same mind. Each one feels, sees, and experiences the world from its own perspective — and coordinating both is an almost insane challenge. One mistake, and he dies twice.

  To master this impossible condition, Justin will have to learn how to control two lives at the same time. If he fails, he’ll be torn apart by his own confusion. If he succeeds… he might be able to perceive and act beyond any human limit.

  And perhaps this new world was made for Justin — and for his strange condition.

  New chapters are released 5 times per week Monday - Friday