Kazuo stopped at the edge of the cliff, his solitary figure silhouetted against the twilight sky. Below, Rafter Village was, for the moment, invisible to him, hidden behind the plain. He had left the village, not out of disinterest, but out of an urgent need to move on, to rid himself of the nuisance that the voice had imposed on him. But the act, the potion, the words spoken... had opened a floodgate. His gaze, initially fixed on the horizon, shifted to the destroyed house he had just left. A vivid and painful memory flashed through his mind, not like a dream, but like a parallel reality that refused to be buried.
A child, huddled against a damp wall, hugged his legs tightly. His body was soaked by the rain, but he wasn't shivering just from the cold. He was shaking inside. From a pain deeper than the physical, more cutting than any visible wound.
His hands, covered in poorly healed scabs, open wounds and encrusted dirt, trembled in a futile attempt to keep warm. His nails were broken, his knuckles bleeding. And his face, partly hidden by tangled fringe, showed the empty gaze of someone who had already learned too much about the world... at an age when he should still have been learning to play.
The words that had scarred him were not mere scoldings. They were daggers repeated so many times that they had stopped hurting. Now they were part of him.
'You're useless.' 'You're better off alone.' 'You're not even good at crying.'
He didn't cry. He couldn't anymore. His tears had run dry years ago... or perhaps he never learned how to use them.
The alley where he hid offered no shelter, no food, no warmth. But it did offer the most important thing for someone like him: oblivion. No one would see him there. No one would touch him. And that, for him, was a relief.
Kazuo didn't expect anyone to come. Because no one ever did. No one was looking for him. No one wanted him. And he didn't want anyone either. Because learning to survive alone wasn't a choice. It was the only option.
And yet, that night, as the sky opened up as if the world itself wanted to spit on him with every icy drop, a silhouette appeared in the darkness.
A female figure stopped in front of him, without an umbrella, without fear, without judgement. Kazuo didn't look up. He just wrapped his arms tighter around his knees, as if he could disappear inside himself. But the voice he heard then didn't sound like the others.
It didn't carry mockery. Or superiority. Or false compassion. It was firm. Soft. Real.
'What are you doing here alone?'
The boy didn't answer. He knew that if he spoke, his voice would break. And he didn't want anyone to hear it break. He didn't want anyone to see him weak. Not again.
But she didn't leave.
Instead, she knelt down in front of him, unafraid of getting dirty with the mud or his silence. She opened a black umbrella and held it over them both, covering him for the first time in weeks with something other than contempt.
Kazuo looked up. And in those brown eyes he saw something he didn't understand.
It wasn't pity.
It was presence. She was the first person who wasn't looking at him like he was a burden. Like he was trash. 'You can't stay here,' she said with a calmness that hurt more than the cruelest scream. 'You're not trash.'
Kazuo froze. No one had ever said that to him before.
The woman placed something warm on his shoulders.
A coat, thick and dry, that smelled of wood and something he had only ever smelled in his dreams: home.
Then, with clean, steady hands, she reached out to him.
'Come with me.'
And for the first time in his short life, Kazuo was afraid to accept something good.
Because he didn't know if he deserved it.
Because if he accepted it... and lost it... would he be able to bear it again? The woman asked him nothing more. She did not force him to speak. She demanded no explanations or names. She simply offered him her hand, and when Kazuo took it awkwardly, she held it firmly... and without judgement. She led him through quiet streets and hidden paths until they reached a neighbourhood where the houses were larger, where the lights did not flicker due to lack of power and the silence was not frightening.
In front of a black iron gate covered with vines, the woman stopped. There, among manicured trees and a stone fountain dried up by autumn, stood a two-story house with large windows and warm lights filtering through the curtains. It was beautiful. Elegant. And in Kazuo's eyes, unreal. 'Come on,' she said, gently pushing the gate.
He followed her with clumsy steps, as if at any moment he would wake up from a fantasy that did not belong to him.
Inside, the house was even stranger.
Soft carpets, walls lined with bookshelves, paintings of peaceful landscapes... And a constant smell of tea, toast and warm wood. Kazuo stood in the doorway, wet, dirty, his hands clenched. He didn't dare move forward or touch anything. He was used to being thrown out of places that looked like this.
'You can stay as long as you like,' said the woman, taking off her coat. Her tone was simple, unburdened. As if she weren't doing anything out of the ordinary. 'The bathroom is over there. I'll make you something hot to eat.' And then she left him alone. She didn't force him to move. She didn't insist. She just kept walking down the polished wooden hallway with the same naturalness with which one speaks at dawn.
Kazuo, his heart beating too fast, took a step forward. The floor didn't creak. There were no screams. There was no punishment.
Just the soft sound of water filling a kettle.
During the days that followed, the world became something unfamiliar to him. The woman cooked calmly. She tended to his wounds with a gentleness that disarmed him. She spoke to him with respect, as if his silence were not a flaw, but something that could also be cared for. In the mornings, he found her reading on the living room floor, wrapped in a thick blanket. In the afternoons, she invited him to walk in the garden. And at night, when he thought she was asleep, she left a cup of hot tea near his makeshift pillow. She spoke to him without expecting a response. About her past. About how everyone deserves a second chance. About what it meant to have strength... and to choose how to use it. 'There is nothing stronger than someone who decides to protect,' she said once, as she placed a fresh bandage on his palm. 'Anyone can destroy. The hard part is not doing it.'
Kazuo never answered. But he listened. And somewhere deep inside, those words began to sink in.
It took Kazuo weeks to get used to the peace.
At first, he didn't eat at the table. He sat on the floor, silently, ate quickly and left. She never forced him.
She would put a second plate on the table and leave it there, even if he didn't come near it. Every day, that plate moved a few centimetres closer. Until one night, without saying a word, Kazuo sat down opposite her. They didn't exchange a word. They just shared the warm bread and tea while the rain beat against the windows.
She glanced at him and smiled. Kazuo looked away, but didn't get up. He started calling her 'Maestra' after an afternoon when she taught him to channel his strength with precise movements. She had shown him how to strike with the palm of his hand without losing his balance, how to read an enemy's intentions in their eyes, how to move with his body... but also with his soul.
'You don't have to win by crushing,' she told him. 'You win when you don't need to fight. You win when you protect.'
Kazuo didn't fully understand those words, but he nodded. He called her Master with a mixture of respect... and affection he couldn't name. And every time he did, she corrected him gently. 'Master sounds too formal. I'm just someone who wants to see you grow up.'
But she never insisted. If he chose to call her that, she accepted it. On cold nights, she covered him with blankets. Sometimes Kazuo pretended to be asleep just to feel her hand silently stroking his hair. There was something about that gesture that made his heart flutter. It wasn't the caress of someone who teaches... it was the caress of a mother. He never said it. Neither he nor she did. But they knew. They spent entire afternoons in the garden. She tended the plants with care, and Kazuo watched her from the porch, a book in his hands that he barely read. Sometimes she talked to him about the world. About the stars. About what it means to have faith in someone, even when that someone has no faith in themselves. 'You're not what they made you believe, Kazuo,' she would say as she planted new flowers. 'What others didn't see in you... I see clearly. And one day, you will too.'
Sometimes, Kazuo would wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares. And he would find her there, sitting by the window, waiting for him. Always with a cup of hot milk ready. 'You're not alone,' she would say softly. 'Not anymore.' He didn't say anything. He just sat next to her. And the silence between them was filled with something that needed no explanation. In one of those moments, Kazuo looked at his reflection in the window, next to hers, and for the first time he thought: This is what a family looks like. Maestra guided him in everything. She taught him to read properly, to write without anger, to breathe when he felt the world was falling apart. She taught him that his strength was not only for destruction, but also for sustenance. And on one special afternoon, while he was helping her prepare rice, she looked at him with shining eyes and said:
'I'm proud of you, Kazuo. Very proud.'
Those words left him speechless. He didn't know what to do with them. He felt that if he touched them, they would break. But that night, in secret, he cried. Not out of sadness. But because he had found something he never thought he would have: someone who saw him... and still stayed. He didn't say anything. He didn't need words. When she came into his room to leave him his usual blanket, she found him standing there, barefoot, looking at her as if he wanted to say a thousand things and couldn't say a single one.
She blinked, puzzled. 'Kazuo...? Did you have another nightmare?'
But he didn't answer.
He just took a step forward. Then another. Until, suddenly, he hugged her. Tightly. As if he were afraid that letting go would mean losing her. As if all the ice that had once protected him inside... were melting away at that moment. The woman didn't move. She just wrapped her arms around him with infinite tenderness, lowering one hand to stroke his hair in silence.
Kazuo was trembling.
His small fingers clung to the fabric of her clothes as if they were claws. His face, hidden against her chest, slowly became wet with tears. He made no sound. He didn't speak. He didn't scream. He just cried.
As if all the pain he had ever contained — all that anger, that loneliness, that coldness in his bones — had finally found a way out.
And she held him. She held him as one holds the most precious thing in the world. Like a mother who knows that her child has finally allowed himself to be vulnerable. 'I'm here,' she whispered, softly caressing the back of his neck. 'No matter what comes. I'll be here.'
Kazuo didn't answer. He couldn't. But in that embrace, without saying a single word, he thanked her for everything. And for the first time... he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserved that love.
The rain had stopped that night. It was one of those rare occasions when the sky cleared, revealing the stars with serene clarity.
The air smelled of wood and tea, and the warmth of the home was real, soft, almost impossible to believe. Kazuo slept by the window, wrapped in a blanket she had knitted by hand. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. For the first time, his expression was free of tension. For the first time... he dreamed of something that wasn't darkness.
The house was silent, but not empty. His teacher, sitting near the fire, was leafing through one of the books she always read at night. Sometimes she read aloud to him. Sometimes she just watched him sleep.
And when she did... she smiled as only a mother can.
'You're so strong, Kazuo... but also so fragile inside,' she whispered, without him hearing her.
That was when something cracked. Slightly. Almost imperceptibly. But enough to make the skin crawl. A different smell wafted through the burnt wood of the fire: smoke. But not from the fireplace... from something out of control. She stood up immediately, instinctively running towards the kitchen. But the fire had already escaped through a broken window. A burning torch had just broken the glass. And in seconds... the flames began to dance. 'Kazuo!' she shouted loudly.
He woke up with a start, his eyes wide open, breathing heavily. The whole house was beginning to creak, and the orange light from the flames reflected in his pupils like a cursed sunrise.
'Teacher!'
He tried to run towards her, but the ceiling had already begun to collapse. Burning beams fell one after another, blocking the hallway. The smoke blinded him, made him cough. But he didn't stop. He threw himself into the rubble, ignoring the pain, the burns... he just wanted to see her. To reach her.
And he made it.
In the middle of the room, under a ceiling that was about to collapse, she hugged him. She protected him. Her body was wounded, her arm bleeding, but her gaze remained the same. 'Shh... you're safe...' she whispered, holding him tightly as the world burned around them.
'We have to get out! Come on, Teacher!' Kazuo's voice broke into a guttural scream, his eyes bloodshot from the effort and terror, clinging to her clothes as if his life depended on it. "Please, God, don't take her! Teacher, don't leave me! Don't leave me alone again! It hurts! It hurts so much! I can get us out!
His entire body convulsed in pain, not physical, but from the agony of impending loss. Each word was a dagger that dug deeper into his own soul. He threw himself with desperate force toward the burning beam covering her body.
The fire devoured his arms on contact, the skin opening into sores that he completely ignored.
The pain didn't matter. Only she mattered. His hands, blackened by soot, clung desperately to the debris, breaking his fingers as he pulled with animal fury. 'I'll get you out of here, I swear! I won't leave you! Don't let me die here, don't leave me! Please, hold on!'
But the wood wouldn't give way. And Sayuri had no strength left. Even so, she smiled. A sad smile... but full of tenderness. The smile of a mother. 'Kazuo...' she murmured, her voice barely a whisper amid the roar of the flames.
He clung to her arm, crying uncontrollably, his forehead pressed against hers.
And then she did something she had never done before: she rested her forehead against his, skin to skin, as if that contact could protect him from everything.
"If there's one thing you must always remember... it's this.
Her warm breath, her trembling lips, her eyes filled with a truth he had never heard before.
'You are worth it. And you deserve to be loved. Even if you don't believe it. Even if you don't accept it. You... you saved my life, Kazuo. Not the other way around.'
Kazuo clenched his teeth tightly, his eyes red and clouded with tears. He squeezed her hand as if that could prevent fate from taking her away. He couldn't lose her. Not her. But Sayuri already knew that. She had already accepted it. And so, with her last breath, she offered him something greater than salvation: her name. 'Sayuri. That's my name... so you won't forget me.'
Kazuo broke down. His whole body shook. And he hugged her with all the strength of his small being, without saying a word. He didn't need to speak. It was his way of thanking her. Of loving her. Of saying goodbye. Sayuri held him just the same... as if she could contain his pain, his past, his broken soul.
'You are my son. Even if you didn't come from me... you are. And you always will be.' And then, with what little strength she had left, she pushed him towards the ramp of rubble.
Kazuo fell. He rolled, bleeding, screaming, not understanding why the world was so cruel.
The last image he saw was her silhouette... standing among the flames. Steadfast. Serene. Loving. And then the roof collapsed.
Everything disappeared.
And Kazuo... knelt under the rain of embers. Voiceless. Without comfort. Alone with the promise of a name he would never forget.
The evening light filtered through the treetops, tinging the world with orange and gold tones. The leaves swayed gently in the wind, and the heat from a dying bonfire barely touched Kazuo, who remained motionless by the fire, his gaze lost.
His bandaged and slightly singed hands rested on his knees. But his mind was still trapped. That memory... her voice... her last words... 'Kazuo... use your strength to save others...'
A stone crunched behind him. Someone was approaching with determination, but without hostility. Kazuo didn't turn around. He didn't need to. He already knew who it was. 'I caught up with you,' said Yui, stopping a few steps away from him, breathing heavily but with a steady gaze. 'I knew it was you... even before you left.'
Kazuo closed his eyes for a moment, but said nothing. The memory, though brutal, had been an anchor. Now, Yui's presence, her resemblance to Sayuri, was an open wound. The similarity of their auras, the calm they exuded... it was too much.
In Rafter Village, Yui hurried through the smoking rubble, her heart beating urgently. The image of the 'Crimson Crawler' torn apart was still fresh in her mind, but the speed with which it had been defeated had left her stunned. She saw the villagers, exhausted but relieved, picking up pieces of wood and preparing to rebuild.
'What happened here?' Yui asked a group of villagers, her voice firm but filled with concern. 'The Crawler...?'
A boy, the same one who had stumbled upon Kazuo, approached timidly, his eyes still wide with amazement. 'A man, miss. A man defeated him. He... was incredible. He didn't talk much, but he was so strong.'
Yui crouched down, searching the boy's face for any details that might confirm her suspicions. 'A man? What did he look like? Where did he go?'
'He was wearing dark clothes and didn't show his face. He was as fast as a shadow,' the boy replied, his eyes shining. 'And after he saved my sister... he just left, heading south. He didn't even tell us his name.'
Yui stood up abruptly. It was him. There was no doubt. The boy's details, the healing potion, the absence of a name. It was the 'Shiranai'. With renewed urgency, he gave orders to his soldiers. 'Secure the area! Help the villagers clear the rubble! I'll go after him.' Without waiting for a response, he rushed off in the direction the boy had pointed.
At the Monitoring Centre of Aether's Realm, the tension was palpable. Ren and Mei, sitting in front of their terminals, watched the transmissions with a mixture of fascination and concern. The image of Kazuo, motionless after the defeat of the Crimson Crawler, was the centre of attention.
'Shit,' Ren muttered, his reading glasses sliding down his nose. 'He's at it again. He defeated a Rank B monster with disturbing ease. He didn't even blink.'
Mei, the analytical mind of the duo, was reviewing the data at breakneck speed. 'His parameters are still incomprehensible. There are no energy spikes consistent with the game's abilities. It's as if the system can't register the magnitude of his strength.'
In the Akihabara café, the green-haired young woman, who had already proclaimed herself an unconditional fan of 'Shiranai,' squealed as she watched the broadcast on the big screen.
'Look! It's Kazuo! He's standing next to the fire! He's a real hero!'
Her friend, with a more serious look, pointed at the screen. "Wait... no, it's just him.
The village seems safe for now. But where is he going?' Admiration had turned into palpable caution.
'Who are you?' asked Yui, her voice a mixture of relief and amazement. 'The villagers say that a man took care of the monster. That you saved them. They call you a hero. Is that true?"
Kazuo opened his expressionless eyes. There was no trace of the emotion that had overwhelmed him a moment ago. 'I don't consider myself that.' His voice was a low, harsh growl. 'I had to take care of that boss. He crossed my path. That people were saved is not my doing.'
Yui frowned, her innate kindness tinged with growing frustration. 'That's not true. No one risks themselves like that for mere convenience. What you did for those children, for the village... that's heroic. That's what Aiko believes too.' She took a step closer, determination shining in her eyes. 'Aiko... she's recovering. She wants to see you. She wants to thank you. She believes that only you can understand what happened to her.' Kazuo looked away. The mention of Aiko and Yui's insistence were a direct assault on his defences.
The image of Sayuri, the woman who looked so much like Yui, flashed in his mind. It was a resemblance that angered him, that forced him to confront a past he had tried to seal away. 'I don't need her. I don't need anyone.' His voice grew harder, more distant. He wanted to run away from that connection, from that echo.
Yui didn't flinch. 'It's not about need. It's about humanity. What you do, the strength you have... it could inspire others. You could bring people together. Help them escape this hell.' Her hand, soft and warm, reached out to him. 'Join us in Rayushen. With your strength, we could...'
Kazuo cut her off, his voice icy. 'No. I don't need anyone. And I don't need to join.' He stood up, his figure imposing. The forest seemed to shrink around him. 'My path is alone. There is nothing that binds me to you.'
'But...' Yui tried to insist, frustration now clear on her face. 'With your power... we could save more people! We could find a way out of this game!'
Kazuo turned his back on her, his step firm and determined. 'It's not my problem.'
Silence fell heavily between them. Yui watched Kazuo's back as he walked away, her brown eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and a strange understanding. She nodded slowly. 'I understand. I won't insist any further.' Her voice, though lower, retained its dignity. 'But if you ever decide you're not alone, Rayushen will be there.'
Kazuo kept walking, Yui's figure shrinking behind him. The air was beginning to cool, the darkness of the forest growing denser. He was done with that interruption. He could continue on his way.
At the Monitoring Centre, a series of red alerts began to flash frantically.
The 'Multiple Elite Incursion' alarm rang out across the room, a deafening sound that was rarely activated, reserved for the most catastrophic scenarios.
'What the hell is that?!' Ren exclaimed, his reading glasses sliding down his nose as his eyes fixed on the tactical map. 'It's Rafter Village! But... impossible!'
Mei typed furiously, her fingers flying across the keyboard at the speed of a machine gun, her eyes glued to the data projected on the main screen. "It's not two, it's three! Three Class A monsters simultaneously! The "Stone Gargantua", the "Toxic Chimera", and the "Shadow Reaper"... What the hell is going on? The system would never allow an incursion of this level in a non-strategic village! This is an anomaly of unprecedented magnitude!"
Ren's face turned pale, the glow of the red screens reflecting in his dilated pupils. 'This isn't random. It's... it seems coordinated. But by whom? And why now, right after Shiranai eliminated the Crawler?' His voice was barely a whisper, laden with a dark premonition.
Mei, her jaw clenched, checked the logs with feverish speed. It's as if the game itself is... reacting. Adapting to his presence. This attack... is a direct response to the imbalance he represents. They're raising the difficulty level."
In the Akihabara café, the green-haired young woman, a self-proclaimed fan of 'Shiranai,' screamed when she saw the new alerts on the big screen. 'No way! More monsters! And they're not small!'
Her friend, with a cold, tense look on her face, pointed to the icons appearing on the village map.
'Wait... look at the readings. Those auras! It's not just one monster, it's three! And they're not crawlers. They're on a whole different level. Class A! The village is burning again!' Admiration had turned into palpable fear, an understanding of the catastrophe that was looming.
At that very moment, a few kilometres away, a column of smoke rose on the horizon, not the distant trail of the already affected village, but a new and alarming dark stain spreading rapidly towards the sky. The smell of burning, once faint, now became acrid and distinctive. It was fire. A large fire, spreading with unusual speed, a harbinger of the destruction that was already underway.
Kazuo stopped in his tracks. His 'Eye of the Soul' lit up, and what he saw made his muscles tense. Several massive red auras moved quickly, three glowing points piercing the darkness.
[Alert: Critical Danger – Class A Threat – Multiple Elite Monsters detected. Location: Rafter Village. Type: Coordinated Raid.]
It wasn't one boss. It was three. Three massive silhouettes, their auras glowing a furious red, moving with brutal coordination. Rafter Village. The same village he had just left.
Fire spread, devouring the houses with a ferocity that could only be caused by a catastrophe. Yui, a few metres away from Kazuo, had also seen it. Her eyes widened in shock, and her interface flashed with the same warning, confirming the nightmare.
'Impossible!' Yui exclaimed, her voice filled with panic. 'Three! There was no record of a triple incursion of this level! This is a total ambush!'
Kazuo, his face impassive, spun on his heels. He hadn't planned on coming back. There was no reason. But the village. The children. The voice... the memory. The fire. The twitch in his jaw grew more pronounced, a sign of the rage boiling beneath his skin. It was no longer a choice. It was a curse.
'How annoying,' he repeated, and this time, the word carried the edge of a freshly sharpened blade. Every step he took back toward the village was not an act of heroism, but a march forced by the incomprehensible programming of his 'Archaic Core,' his teacher's voice echoing in every fibre of his being, an eternal echo of an unspoken promise. He moved, not out of pity, but out of a frozen anger and a self-imposed duty he detested. The three Class A monsters were just the next targets in his path.