Bound by the king of destruction

We stepped into a clearing, and the air shifted.

Before us stood a massive gate, carved from age-stained stone. It looked like it had never opened, and yet… it always waited.

"Stay a few steps back," I said, my eyes never leaving it.

She gave a small smile. "You don't need to ask."

I hovered between knocking and busting it open.

Why are dungeon gates always so tall?

Then, without warning, it cracked open. A shadow fell over me as a towering figure emerged, breathing slow.

He was furred, walking upright, his face shaped like a bull, horns curved backward like a crown. His arms and legs ended in claws and padded paws. The only clothing he wore were rough shorts, his tail flicking lazily behind him.

Exactly what kind of creature are you, Lamo… a cow, a cat, a bull?

I'm sure he's a goat—because I've never seen anything like him before.

His gaze dropped to me, as if I was something stuck to his stomach. "Ah… it's you again," he grunted.

With a familiar grin, I moved without warning.

My leg sliced through the damp air in a clean arc, a round kick aimed at his neck. "I just need two this time," I muttered.

He blocked the kick with a thick arm. Smart. But my fist was faster than his eyes. It cracked against his cheek with a sound like thunder. His body lifted off the ground and slammed into the stone floor, rolling until he hit a carved wall with a groan.

Are these beings lightweight—or is my fist just heavy?

I glanced at my hand.

Lamo sat up, blood trickling down his head, then staggered to his feet. With a furious roar, he charged with clenched fists—until a voice cut the air.

"Lamo."

The calm tone stopped him mid-step. "How many times have I told you to let the kid take what he wants?"

Lamo froze, his breath still ragged. "But he came at me first, Clam!"

"Do you want him to destroy this place again?" the voice asked, unfazed.

Then Clam stepped out of the shadows.

He looked human but wasn't. Too tall. Too still.

His skin was a rotten purple, like something left in the dark too long. His black robes hung heavy, layered like chains of cloth. His yellow eyes glowed—always glowing.

Was he born like that?

How does he look when he's angry?

Clam approached silently, hand slipping into his sleeve. He drew out three Essencia Crystals, each one smooth and pulsing faintly, as if alive. He placed them into my palm.

"Fiel," he said quietly, "how about you stop crushing everyone every time you come here?"

I turned, already walking off. "That's on them."

He didn't argue.

After a few steps, I called back without turning, "Tell your boss I said hi."

Behind me, his voice floated from the gate, slower, heavier.

"Ever since he challenged you… he's never woken up."

I paused for a heartbeat.

I wonder what his deal is… It was just a few punches. Is he really still unconscious?

I kept walking, but his words lingered like dust on my thoughts.

---

Ms. Clare waited near the path, arms crossed and a teasing grin curling her lips.

"You really like crushing those guys. Soon, you'll clear the whole dungeon."

"It's just buddies sparring," I said with a shrug, trying not to sound defensive.

"I gave your cinder puffs to Van." she said calmly.

I pictured Van stuffing them all into his face, crumbs everywhere.

"You're not afraid of him?" I asked.

She smiled. "Come on. I'm a scientist. You think I believe in ghosts and spirits? Your friend is my friend," she added casually.

I glanced off to the side, pretending to adjust my jacket. "I'm gonna wander off for a bit," I said, avoiding her gaze.

She didn't ask why or where. She just nodded, tucked the crystals into her coat, and headed toward the main road.

That's one thing I like about Ms. Clare—she doesn't chase questions she doesn't want the answers to.

---

I turned the other way, deeper into the woods.

The air shifted as I walked. Pine and damp earth replaced the sharp scent of crystal dust. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called once… then silence.

How unfortunate for you, I thought.

I reached a small cave at the edge of a dried stream. Barely tall enough to stand in—just a shallow wound in the hill. I stepped inside, sat down, and leaned against the cold stone wall.

The dark pressed in around me.

Then a deep voice called my name.

"Fiel."

I jerked up, scanning the shadows, but there wasn't even a bird. Only silence.

Guess I imagined it.

Still, I couldn't risk another nap. The nightmares…

This was always my spot.

A place I came to when I didn't know what I was feeling.

When the world felt too loud.

When even silence had weight.

After a while, I stood and turned back.

There wasn't much left for me here.

And like it or not, the city was calling.

Mom, Dad, here I come.

I'm going to do my best as an Exo-hunter and prove to everyone that my emotions don't control me.

This time, I promise—we'll meet again.

---

I returned to the house. Quiet, as always.

I didn't own much—just a few clothes, a jacket, some tools, and a small sealed box. I packed them into my bag. The silence felt heavier now. Final.

Van approached, his steps less shadow-like than usual, almost human. His pale figure seemed solid as he tilted his head.

"You're finally leaving?"

I nodded, stepping past him toward the door.

"Do you mind watching the place until I come back?"

Van leaned lazily against the wall, arms folded, eyes glinting with amusement.

"I can leave that to Nellie," he said, tilting his head upward as if she was already listening.

I paused. "So you're coming with me to the city?"

He gave a slow nod, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

Arguing with Van never changes the outcome. I didn't press.

"Let's make a pact?" he asked, tone half-serious, half-hopeful.

Not this again.

"I know you don't believe me, but I've evolved into a spirit now."

"Then explain why I'm still human?" I shot back.

He went silent.

This isn't the first time Van's asked for a pact, but every attempt failed. It only confirms my theory—he isn't a spirit yet, just a ghost clinging to the idea. He always claimed something inside me was blocking it, but I never believed him.

The truth? A ghost becomes a spirit only by bonding with a human, feeding off their emotions and spiritual essence. But that bond eventually corrupts the human soul, turning them into demons.

The fact that I'm still human is all the proof I need—Van is just a ghost.

"You do know you'll need a pact to boost your shard, right?"

"Grandma says I have a shadow pact with Vanik'shur, or whatever his name is. Any other pact won't work. But I'll think about it once we arrive in the city. First—where's Nellie?"

"Probably somewhere eavesdropping." He said, as if he knew where she was.

"Nellie," I called out, "if you ever miss me, please come visit."

No response. Not that I expected one.

Somewhere in the house, Nellie sat in a dark corner, legs folded, her face hidden against her knees, listening quietly.

Honestly, Nellie still creeps me out. I've lived with her for two years, but I only know her name. The silence is the worst part. I don't even remember how I started living with her.

I closed the door and left the key beneath the loose brick by the door, looking back one last time.

I'm really gonna miss this place… though maybe not for long.

---

Van walked beside me, his steps slow, quiet.

The path to the highway felt longer than I remembered.

Same trees. Same cracked road.

But the world felt slightly… shifted.

"Where are my cinder puffs?" I asked suddenly.

He choked, swallowing dry air. "I thought they were meant for me?!"

"Yeah, great."

Not the first time he's eaten them. And later pretends he had no idea they were mine.

---

A lone taxi pulled up beneath the flickering streetlamp.

I didn't ask for a destination—just gave the district number and leaned back in the seat.

The city lights glimmered in the distance, bright and sharp against the dusk.

Finally, after three years…

Who knows what awaits me there.