Chapter 16: Cracks Beneath the Light

  The sun hung high over the Holy Kingdom’s training grounds, gilding the marble pilrs and the lush green fields with divine light. The cng of swords, the thrum of magic, and the determined voices of young heroes-in-training filled the air. Day after day, progress was visible—students grew stronger, faster, sharper. Spells that once sputtered now bzed. Weapons that felt foreign now danced in their hands.

  All except for one.

  Shouta Izumi stood at the far end of the training field, sparks flickering between his fingers—brief, dim, and pitifully weak. He winced as the spell sputtered out again.

  All around him, cssmates flourished.

  Mirei Hoshino sliced through the air with her sword in a beautiful arc, sweat glistening on her brow, but her movements were sharp and refined. Ririka Kanzaki, the queen bee of their css, danced around a training dummy with her bde—graceful, commanding, the picture of lethal elegance. Even the most reserved students were beginning to grasp their skills.

  But Shouta?

  Still stuck at square one.

  He cast another spell. A tiny jolt of lightning fizzed at his fingertips—harmless.

  A snicker came from behind.

  “Well, well. Still trying to make those little fireflies dance, Izumi?”

  Makabe Jin’s voice had a cruel kind of rhythm to it, loud enough to draw eyes. His two ever-present friends stood behind him like thugs in a schoolyard fight.

  Shouta didn’t turn around. “Not now, Makabe.”

  Makabe clicked his tongue. “It’s always ‘not now’ with you. Maybe that’s why you’re still trash-tier.”

  Shouta tensed. He heard footsteps—Makabe approaching.

  Ririka paused mid-swing, gncing sideways with a sigh, but said nothing.

  A few feet away stood Haruka Nakano, sunlight glinting off her white and gold robes as she observed the commotion. Her expression was calm, unreadable. She didn’t intervene.

  That silence hurt more than Makabe’s words.

  Makabe’s smirk widened when he noticed Shouta gnce toward her. “Aw, what’s the matter? Hoping your little saint would come save you again?”

  “Shut up, Makabe.”

  “No, really—where’s your miracle now? Oh right, probably busy doing actual useful stuff, unlike someone wasting magic on baby sparks.”

  Shouta clenched his fists.

  Makabe’s eyes gleamed with something darker. He stepped closer.

  “You know what? Let’s give everyone a little entertainment. How about a duel, Izumi?”

  Shouta turned, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not serious.”

  “I’m always serious when it comes to squashing pests.” Makabe’s grin was wolfish. “Unless you're scared. Wanna run to your little saint? Maybe she’ll hold your hand.”

  Shouta’s pulse raced. Ririka was watching from the corner of her eye. Haruka still stood quiet, distant, her hands folded.

  “She won’t help you, you know,” Makabe whispered, low enough only for Shouta to hear. “Even she knows you’re dead weight.”

  Shouta stepped forward, fists trembling.

  “I’ll fight you.”

  A sudden, sharp voice cut in. “Makabe, that’s enough!”

  Miss Aiko, her expression stern, marched over. “You’re going too far!”

  But before she could reach them, Wendel raised a hand.

  “Let them duel,” he said, voice like stone. “There is no pce for the weak in this world. Better they learn that here.”

  “But he’s not ready!” Miss Aiko argued.

  “He must be,” Wendel said, unmoved. “Tomorrow we hunt. If he cannot stand now, he will only hold you back in the field.”

  The circle widened. Students gathered.

  Makabe summoned fmes to his palm, cocky and confident.

  Shouta stepped into the ring, the weight of silence from Haruka burning more than the heat of Makabe’s fire.

  “Try not to cry when you lose,” Makabe whispered.

  The duel was brutal—and short.

  Shouta’s lightning shed out, a weak whip of energy that barely grazed Makabe’s arm. Makabe responded with a sweeping burst of fme, forcing Shouta to stumble. Another attack came. Then another.

  Shouta was on the ground within minutes, coughing from the smoke, burns stinging his side. His magic fizzled, scattered.

  “Pathetic,” Makabe scoffed, turning his back.

  The duel was over.

  Shouta sat there, fists trembling, shame burning brighter than Makabe’s fire.

  Mirei knelt beside him. “Shouta… You okay?”

  He didn’t respond. Just stared at the cracked ground beneath him.

  Miss Aiko stood over Makabe, visibly angry. “You could have seriously injured him!”

  Makabe just shrugged. “He wanted to prove himself. He did.”

  “You’re cruel,” she hissed.

  Wendel stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “Enough. Both of you. This is the reality we live in. Power is justice. Tomorrow, you will all embark on your first expedition—a monster hunt in the Arven Woods. You’ve had enough time to train. It’s time to see who among you has the will to survive.”

  The students stirred. Some were excited. Others nervous. Shouta... said nothing.

  The silence in the room was suffocating.

  Shouta Izumi sat hunched on the edge of the bed, still in his training clothes, his hands resting limply on his knees. The faint creak of the old wooden frame beneath him was the only sound. No birdsong. No distant chatter. No soft knock at the door. Just silence.

  He slowly leaned back until he was lying ft on the bed, eyes staring up at the smooth white ceiling overhead. The ornate swirls and divine motifs carved into the stone were beautiful, a symbol of the sanctity of this holy pce, but he could find no comfort in them now. They only reminded him of where he was—a world that didn’t want him.

  His chest rose and fell with quiet, shallow breaths. Every muscle ached. His pride stung worse than the burns left by Makabe Jin’s fire.

  “There’s no pce for the weak in this world.”

  Wendel’s words repeated like a curse in his mind.

  He blinked. The ceiling began to blur as his eyes stung with unshed tears. His hands clenched the bedsheets. He hated this. Hated how powerless he felt. How he couldn’t even bring himself to fight back properly. He was always trailing behind everyone, no matter how hard he tried.

  He closed his eyes. The sting faded into something deeper—an ache not of the body, but of the soul.

  And then, unbidden, a memory surfaced.

  A different pce. A different time.

  A warm afternoon in early spring, the sky awash in gold and orange as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

  They were just eight years old.

  Haruka Nakano was the sun herself—bright, lively, always smiling, always ughing. Her long bck hair tied in puffy twin tails, her white dress already smudged with dirt as she knelt in the sandbox beside him.

  “Look, Shouta! This one’s the castle gate!” she giggled, pressing a pstic mould into the sand with both hands. “And this tower is where the princess lives!”

  Shouta, his hands just as dirty, squinted at their little sandy kingdom with the seriousness of a boy tasked with an important duty. “Then I’ll build the wall,” he said, scooping sand into a long line. “So no monsters can get in.”

  “Monsters?” Haruka gasped, wide-eyed. “What kind of monsters?”

  “The scary kind,” he said, puffing out his chest a little. “But don’t worry. I’ll protect the princess!”

  Haruka beamed. “Okaaay~ Then I’ll make the royal garden! With sand flowers!”

  Their ughter rang across the empty park, accompanied by the rustling of leaves and the low hum of cicadas. It was a perfect moment, full of childish joy and innocent dreams.

  Until the barking started.

  A rge stray dog emerged from the bushes, snarling, its teeth bared. It barked once, twice, then began to charge toward them.

  Haruka screamed.

  She fell backwards, eyes wide in terror. “I-It’s coming!”

  Instinct took over.

  Without thinking, Shouta jumped in front of her, his small frame shielding hers. He could feel her trembling behind him, clutching at the back of his shirt. His heart pounded, his legs shaking—but he didn’t move.

  “S-Someone!” he yelled, voice breaking. “Help! H-Help!”

  The dog was close now, its barks echoing like thunder in his ears.

  His fingers closed around the pstic sand bucket in his hand.

  With a cry, he hurled it at the barking animal.

  It hit.

  The dog yelped, startled, and after a pause that seemed to st forever, it turned and bolted back into the trees.

  Silence returned, broken only by Haruka’s sobs.

  She clung to his back, her little fingers digging into his shoulders as she cried, loud, shaking sobs that made Shouta’s heart twist. His adrenaline was already fading. He was shaking too. But he turned, slowly, and knelt beside her.

  “Hey… It’s okay,” he whispered, voice soft.

  She didn’t stop crying. Not right away.

  So he reached out and patted her back, awkwardly at first, then with more care. She clutched his arm like a lifeline.

  “I was s-scared…” she hiccupped.

  “I know. Me too,” he said. “But it’s gone now. We’re okay.”

  She looked up at him with red, puffy eyes.

  He reached out, took her small hand into his, and looked into her eyes with all the courage he could muster.

  “I’ll protect you, Haruka,” he said. “No matter what. I’ll always be with you.”

  His voice didn’t shake. His grip was firm. His brown eyes were steady, full of something too strong for a boy his age. But it was real.

  Haruka stared at him for a moment.

  Then, slowly, she nodded.

  The sun was setting behind her, painting the sky in warm orange and gold. She stood up, still holding his hand, and together they looked down at the ruined sandcastle in silence.

  Shouta’s eyes fluttered open. He was back in the cold, holy room.

  That day, his promise still lived in him.

  But now?

  That same girl stood apart. Silent. Watching.

  Had he failed her?

  His hands curled into fists again.

  “No matter what… I’ll protect you.”

  He couldn’t break that vow.

  Not even if the whole world called him weak.

  Not even if his magic failed.

  Because that promise… that memory… it was everything he had.

  And he would not let it die.

  The morning light was pale and soft as it filtered through the thick canopy of trees, casting fragmented patterns across the forest floor. The air was crisp with the scent of moss and damp earth. Somewhere in the distance, the call of a bird echoed once before all fell silent again.

  Under the dominion of the Holy Church, this forest was deemed a "safe zone," though today, safety was retive.

  All thirty summoned heroes were gathered in a loose formation—some tense, some excited, others masking their nerves with forced smiles. A handful of Holy Knights, cd in gleaming silver armour, stood at the perimeter, silent sentinels.

  And there was Wendel, standing tall at the centre, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes like cold steel sweeping across the group.

  “Focus on your surroundings,” Wendel’s voice cut sharply through the morning quiet. “You are not on a training ground now. This is a battlefield. Open your senses. Feel. Listen. Smell. Use your mana to sense.”

  A hush fell.

  Tentatively at first, the students began to close their eyes, drawing on the faint wells of mana within them.

  Then, one by one, they felt it.

  A prickle along the skin.

  A tightening in the air.

  The unmistakable sensation of eyes watching them.

  From the brush, something stirred.

  Scarlet eyes glowed faintly between the leaves—feral, calcuting.

  Wendel allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. “Good. Now, watch carefully.”

  Without lifting a finger, he invoked his skill: Taunt.

  It was like a ripple in the air, a pulse of invisible pressure that smmed into the beast lurking nearby.

  The pair of red eyes fred brighter.

  A low growl rumbled from the thickets.

  A one-horned rabbit—a Wild Horned Lapine—emerged from the undergrowth, its snow-white fur bristling, the horn atop its head gleaming like polished ivory. It should have fled at the sight of so many armed humans. Instead, anger burned in its gaze, its muscles taut, ready to spring.

  Wendel turned, his voice casual but firm. “Mirei Hoshino. Step forward.”

  All heads turned.

  Mirei hesitated, her breath catching. Her hand hovered near the sword belted at her waist.

  Wendel’s eyes narrowed. His tone sharpened. “There is no room for hesitation against the enemy. Not here. Not ever.”

  Mirei swallowed hard, steeling herself. She stepped forward.

  The rabbit snarled, lowering its body into a crouch, its powerful hind legs coiling like springs.

  With a flick of his finger, Wendel gave the silent command.

  The rabbit unched.

  Time seemed to shatter.

  Everything slowed.

  Mirei’s senses exploded into hyper-awareness.

  The collective gasp of her cssmates rang in her ears like a drawn-out wail.

  The slight shifting of Miss Aiko, who had instinctively moved forward, hand half-raised as if to intervene, was like the slow unfurling of a flower.

  The blur of the rabbit’s fur, the glint of its horn, the bloodlust in its eyes—all these details sharpened in her mind to crystalline crity.

  It’s fast.

  Her heart thudded once, heavy in her chest.

  But not fast enough.

  Her training took over.

  In one smooth motion, she unsheathed her one-handed sword with a metallic shhhhink, the bde catching the dappled sunlight.

  Mirei closed her eyes for the briefest heartbeat.

  Breathe.

  She remembered the endless hours practising on wooden dummies. How the instructors drilled the same motions again and again until they felt burned into her bones. How to pivot her foot just so. How to extend her reach just enough that the bde would find its mark with the perfect arc.

  She felt the earth beneath her boots.

  Felt the bance shift in her muscles.

  Cut through.

  The moment stretched, a thin, fragile thing about to break.

  And then—action.

  With a cry, she drove herself forward, sword fshing in a deadly arc.

  The rabbit's charge collided with the edge of her bde, not with the impact of horn meeting flesh, but with the severing of breath itself.

  A clean, single cut.

  The rabbit's momentum carried its lifeless body forward even after the fatal blow had been dealt.

  Its head fell to the ground, rolling once, twice, before settling in the leaves. Blood gushed from the clean stump of its neck, painting the earth crimson.

  Mirei stood there, frozen, the bloodied sword still outstretched in her hand.

  The forest was deathly still.

  A low gasp spread among the gathered students.

  The expressions on their faces ranged from awe to horror. Miss Aiko had halted, hand still half-raised in an aborted attempt to protect her.

  Mirei looked down.

  The rabbit’s body y at her feet, unmoving, utterly still.

  The blood on her sword dripped slowly onto the ground with a rhythmic plip, plip, plip.

  Her fingers trembled slightly around the hilt. Her breathing was shallow. A strange heat prickled behind her eyes, but she forced it back.

  She had done it.

  Her first real kill.

  Her hands were no longer innocent.

  Wendel’s voice broke the silence, calm but unyielding.

  “This is what it means to fight. Remember this feeling. Engrave it into your heart.”

  Mirei’s sword wavered, then she slowly lowered it to her side.

  The blood on her bde caught the light, glinting like rubies.

  And as the sun climbed higher through the forest canopy, it seemed to her that the world had changed forever.

  The metallic tang of blood still hung in the air as Mirei wiped her bde, her fingers stiff, her eyes distant. The headless rabbit at her feet was a memory branded into every student’s mind.

  Among them, Shouta Izumi stood still, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. He stared at Mirei, watched the blood roll down the steel of her sword, and felt an icy shiver run down his spine.

  Can I… do that? The question echoed in his head, loud.

  His hands curled into fists. He could still remember the weight of his training sword, the bruises from sparring, the lectures about courage and resolve. But this… this was real. That rabbit had wanted to kill. Its fury had been wild, primal, unstoppable. And Mirei had cut it down.

  He looked down at his weapon, still sheathed. Could I raise this… and end a life?

  Wendel, ever composed, didn’t give them time to dwell.

  “Let’s move,” he commanded, already turning deeper into the forest.

  The heroes followed, silent. The leaves whispered around them, stirred by a cold breeze. Deeper they went, under the dense cover of green, until sunlight barely reached the ground. After what felt like forever, they entered a small clearing, surrounded by towering trees like silent sentinels.

  “Formation,” Wendel ordered sharply.

  The students moved clumsily into a loose circle, weapons drawn—some with steady hands, others visibly trembling.

  Wendel stood at the centre, golden mana pulsing around his body like a quiet sun. His eyes were glowing, far-seeing.

  “We are not alone.”

  A few hearts skipped.

  “Something is watching us.” He turned slowly, scanning the treeline.

  Snap.

  A low, guttural growl rumbled through the still air.

  And then—one by one—they emerged.

  From behind the trees, from within the brush, from every corner of shadow… wolves stepped into the light.

  Sleek, bck-furred beasts. Muscles rippling beneath coats as dark as obsidian. Eyes glowing red with feral hunger. Slobber hung from their fangs as low growls filled the air, each one vibrating with primal threat.

  Twenty of them.

  They circled the heroes, ears flicked forward, fangs bared. Their hunger wasn’t just for food—it was for blood, for the thrill of the hunt.

  Gasps escaped from the students. A few stepped back, bdes shaking.

  “Bring out your weapons,” Wendel said, voice sharp as a bde. “Now.”

  Nobody moved at first.

  The tension was unbearable, like a storm about to break. Even breathing felt hard. The forest, the trees, even the wind—everything held its breath.

  The wolves crept closer.

  This is real. This is death.

  Shouta swallowed, his hand shaking as it touched the hilt of his sword.

  Can I do this?

  He looked around—Ririka, tense and quiet with her sword already out. Miss Aiko, standing near the rear, her protective gaze scanning the students. Haruka Nakano, holding a staff and biting her lip, gncing toward him, just for a second.

  And then Wendel raised his hand.

  A single, precise gesture.

  The wolves charged.

  It was chaos.

  Howls erupted. The ground trembled with the weight of the beasts as they sprinted. Shadows blurred as bck fur and red eyes lunged from all directions.

  The first scream tore through the air.

  Shouta’s instincts screamed at him to move, to do something. A wolf lunged toward a boy on his left. Another aimed for Ririka.

  The clearing became a battlefield.

  Blood. Steel. Fear.

  The moment the wolves charged, Shouta Izumi felt the world explode around him.

  Howls and screams crashed together. Steel cshed. Magic tore the air apart.

  He stood frozen, sword halfway drawn, as the nightmare unfolded before his wide, terrified eyes.

  To his right, Miss Aiko raised her hand. A whirlwind roared into existence, smming into a pair of wolves that had leapt for the nearest students. The beasts were hurled backwards, yelping, leaves and dirt spiralling in the sudden gust.

  In the middle of it all, Hoshino Mirei was radiant—a white light fring from her sword. With each step, her bde moved in blinding arcs, severing fur and flesh. A wolf lunged, teeth fshing—only to be cut cleanly in two, her expression calm, almost eerily so.

  Makabe Jin let out a fierce roar. His bde, wreathed in orange fmes, cleaved a wolf that dared approach. Beside him, his loyal sidekicks, Takeshi Okuda and Shun Nakamura, fought shoulder to shoulder—swords fshing, shields smashing back, snapping jaws.

  Ririka Kanzaki, normally graceful and composed, gritted her teeth, her sword thrumming with raw mana. She parried a wolf's strike and countered, slicing across its side as adrenaline flooded her body, keeping her moving, alive.

  Near the back, Haruka Nakano stood firm, water magic swirling in her hands. She conjured a sphere of gleaming water, hurling it with a shout into a cluster of wolves—it exploded with a loud spsh, sending beasts sprawling, stunned.

  A sharp grunt drew Shouta’s eyes toward Takumi Hayashi, who darted forward like a shadow. With one precise movement, his dagger plunged into a wolf’s skull, dropping the beast instantly.

  Across the chaos, Kasumi Ayane fought desperately, swinging her sword in wide, frantic arcs. She barely deflected a wolf’s pounce, her body trembling, tears streaking her dirt-stained face.

  And then— Shizuka Kurosawa moved.

  She was beautiful and terrifying—a dance of death. Her sword blurred faster than Shouta could see, her S-rank skills manifesting in fluid, lethal precision. One wolf tried to outfnk her—and died without even nding a paw.

  Nearby, a boy with messy brown hair and clear blue eyes—Renji Morisawa (a name Shouta remembered)—stood his ground, parrying a wolf with panicked strength, blood dripping from a shallow bite on his arm.

  The two padins—silver shields raised—stood like immovable mountains. Their armour gleamed even under the dim forest light, holding the line to protect the panicked, unmoving students at the centre.

  And in front of them, their leader, Sakura Ayaka, stood like a goddess of war. Her shield, infused with holy light, repelled every beast that dared approach. Her brown hair clung to her forehead, her strong hands never wavering.

  Somewhere, a boy dressed in priest robes knelt, hands csped, shouting prayers into the roaring chaos, trying to bless the others with protection spells. Another boy, bow drawn tight, fired arrows in rapid succession, trying to buy time for his friends. At his side, a boy with bck daggers danced between wolves, blood staining his boots.

  At the very centre, four terrified healers—two boys, two girls—tried desperately to chant spells. Water, fire, earth, and wind flickered at their fingertips, barely controlled, their bodies shaking violently.

  And Shouta…

  Shouta stood paralysed.

  An E-rank hero, the only one, his hands trembling uncontrolbly around a sword he couldn’t lift. Mana tried to gather at his fingertips—a weak attempt to summon a lightning bolt—but it fizzled out, leaving only sparks and shame.

  He heard it all:

  The cries of his cssmates as they fought and bled.

  The howls of wolves as they fell or tore into flesh.

  The desperate, shaking prayers.

  The sobs of those too terrified to move.

  Move, damn it. MOVE! He screamed at his body, but it wouldn’t listen.

  A wolf turned toward him, red eyes gleaming, teeth dripping blood.

  It snarled, crouching.

  It saw weakness.

  Shouta’s heart nearly stopped.

  I’m going to die. I’m going to die and I haven’t even…

  Then—BOOM— A bolt of light exploded behind the wolf.

  Wendel, towering and unflinching, stood at the edge of the clearing, golden sword drawn, mana swirling around him like a second sun. The wolf yelped, turning away from Shouta, saved by the thinnest thread of fate.

  Wendel’s eyes locked onto Shouta, hard and unreadable. He said nothing, but Shouta felt it—the weight of that gaze.

  You are a hero. Stand. Fight.

  Around them, the battle raged. The students—those who could—fought tooth and nail, gaining small victories. But every second stretched into eternity.

  Just when Shouta thought it was over— When the battlefield seemed almost under control—

  A massive wolf dropped from the trees.

  Twice the size of the others. Fur as bck as midnight. Eyes burning red with raw hate. Its fangs gleamed in the air, its cws wide open, ready to tear flesh apart.

  And it was heading straight for Haruka Nakano. She stood in the centre of the field, weaving another water spell, completely unaware of the death hurtling toward her from above.

  Someone move! Someone, anyone!

  Wendel’s golden eyes widened. He leapt forward—but he was too far.

  Shouta saw it. He saw it all in a heartbeat—the wolf, Haruka, Wendel’s desperate motion— —and something inside him broke loose.

  “No... NO!”

  Mana exploded from his body, wild and uncontrolled.

  "Lightning Fsh!" It was one of the only four spells he knew.

  For the first time in his life, it worked.

  The world blurred. His body was unched forward, a jagged bolt of blue light tearing through the battlefield.

  Too fast—too wild—no control—

  With a crash that shook the ground, Shouta collided mid-air with the giant wolf.

  They smashed into each other with a brutal, meaty sound— —and the beast was thrown sideways, tumbling through the air, crashing across the bloody battlefield.

  Shouta hit the ground hard. Pain exploded through his right side. His vision spun, stars bursting behind his eyes.

  He y there, gasping, clutching his side, his right arm numb and burning.

  The giant wolf nded on its feet with a heavy thud, skidding across dirt and blood. It snarled, foam and blood dripping from its jaws. Its eyes locked onto its new target— Shouta Izumi.

  It crouched low, muscles bunching, ready to kill.

  Shouta couldn't move. His limbs refused to listen. His chest heaved, but he couldn’t even lift his sword.

  I’m dead.

  The wolf leapt, a bck blur of death—

  —and in a single, blinding fsh of silver—

  Mirei was there.

  Her glowing light sword sang through the air.

  With a single clean ssh, she cut the giant wolf in half, her expression cold and merciless. The two halves of the beast crashed into the dirt with a final, pitiful thud.

  Blood spttered across the ground. Silence followed. A heavy, stunned silence.

  One by one, the other wolves fell. Under the bdes of the heroes. Under the crushing might of Wendel and the holy knights.

  Until, at st, the battlefield was still.

  Broken trees. Torn earth. Corpses of monsters were scattered like fallen leaves.

  And among it all, y Shouta, trembling, his body battered and broken— —but alive.

  Shouta’s vision blurred. The world around him spun and darkened at the edges.

  He heard someone screaming his name— the sound distant, desperate— Before the strength left his body completely.

  Haruka Nakano ran to him, her eyes wide with terror. "Shouta! Hang in there!" She dropped beside him, hastily weaving water magic into her hands, trying to heal his injuries, her magic flickering with fear.

  Mirei arrived next, her sword still bloodstained, her expression tight with worry. She gently lifted Shouta’s unconscious form off the ground, supporting his limp body against her.

  Miss Aiko was shouting over the battlefield. "Healers! Over here—hurry!"

  The young priest stumbled closer, his face pale. "Wendel-sensei, please! Help him!"

  Wendel’s sharp golden eyes scanned the chaotic scene. "Stay calm!" he commanded, his voice firm enough to cut through the fear in the air. "Holy Knights, gather the students! We’re pulling back!"

  The Holy Knights quickly moved, forming protective lines around the wounded and shaken students.

  The forest clearing was Blood-streaked earth, fallen wolves, and heroes trembling from their first true taste of battle.

  And just like that, in this new world, They survived their first fight. Their first real step into the unknown had begun— Bathed in blood and fear.

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