Within Memories, Part 2
Aryen sat on a pile of debris far from the village, staring out at the sea. The island had been shattered, the land submerged, and the city erased, yet the ocean looked peaceful. Small waves lapped against the accidental breakwater formed by the accumulated rubble.
"Move it! No, not that way!"
"I think it'd be better to just push it all aside."
The voices of the people clearing the debris drifted over from time to time. Aryen watched them through narrowed eyes before turning his gaze back to the sea. A slightly larger wave rolled in, washing over the rubble. The wind wasn't strong. The sea was as gentle as a cradle.
"Alright, gather it up and move it!"
Aryen watched a laborer walking toward him. Though the autumn wind was beginning to turn chilly, the man was still dripping with sweat.
"Sorry, mister, but it's dangerous around here. The debris might collapse."
Aryen lightly leaped down from the pile. Even though he landed effortlessly after dropping from a height twice a man's stature, the laborer stared at him in surprise.
"You're a tough one, mister. Didn't that hurt?"
"Not really."
The laborer looked at him with curiosity. Aryen gave a brief shrug and began walking along the beach. *Guilt.* Aryen thought of the word as he looked at the ruins. Elroy hadn't forced any responsibility onto him. He hadn't tried to pry at another's guilt. Aryen let out a sigh.
*Splash. Splash.*
He heard the sound of the waves crashing against the debris. Dwelling on the past was not something Aryen enjoyed. Yet, his conversation with Elroy kept dragging up memories he would rather keep buried.
"...Carla."
A name he never wanted to recall again. Aryen closed his eyes as he watched the incoming tide.
Aryen Elmion was born in the border conflict zone of the Kairos Kingdom. Seeing corpses was nothing unusual. Corpses of enemy soldiers. Corpses of kingdom soldiers. Few of them died with their eyes closed. Most soldiers died with their helmets knocked off, their eyes staring wide. Aryen knew the eyes of the dead. Irises and pupils frozen in a pale, cloudy gray. Crows would fly down to peck at the rotting flesh.
"Hey! Kid! Don't touch that!"
Whenever Aryen stood staring blankly at a corpse, a patrolling soldier would march over, scold him, and chase him away. Aryen watched the crows' beaks peck at the lifeless eyes. There was never just one crow. Once they found a body, they would caw and cry, calling their comrades. Hundreds of crows thrived in the fields and forests. The soldiers brought in the kingdom's dead to be cremated, but they left the enemy's corpses for the crows to feed on.
"Kids shouldn't be looking at this stuff. How many times is this for you now?"
With a voice full of irritation, the soldier grabbed Aryen by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back to the village. Aryen glanced at the sword rattling at the soldier's hip and pouted.
"I'll hold a sword and fight someday too. They're the bad guys, aren't they? Those bastards."
"You don't need to fight. Just go help your father with his work."
Because Aryen was found near the bodies so often, most of the local soldiers knew his face. They called him "the Crow." After all, both were dark-haired, dark-eyed creatures always found lingering near corpses.
"You can't even get proper work done here anymore. The world is too chaotic."
"Don't say that in front of others, Crow, or you'll get in big trouble."
The soldier ruffled Aryen's hair as he spoke, then turned and walked away to resume his patrol.
Aryen's father was a woodcutter. He was always drunk, but he was never the type of man to beat Aryen or his mother. He had black hair like Aryen's, and his poorly shaved face carried a gentle demeanor.
"You went out there again today," Aryen's father said.
At first, his father had scolded him harshly, but by now, he seemed to have given up. His mother only watched Aryen with a worried expression.
"I'm thinking of leaving this village and moving soon."
"Moving?"
His father nodded slowly. "A woodcutter can survive anywhere as long as there are trees."
*I see.* Aryen nodded, looking at the old axe leaning against the fireplace. His father looked at him and spoke again.
"If you don't have anything special you want to do, you should learn how to handle an axe."
"I'm going to be a soldier."
At Aryen's words, his father's face stiffened terribly. His cup rattled. Aryen braced himself for a thunderous scolding, but his father merely raised his cup again and drained it.
"Why do you think that way?"
At his father's question, Aryen frowned. He had never thought about it deeply.
"Because I want to defeat our enemies."
"...Is that so?" his father replied, his voice devoid of strength.
Aryen didn't know why, but he was glad his father didn't object. His father tapped the table with a thoughtful expression.
"You must think about what you are swinging your sword for."
That was what his father said. Young Aryen couldn't understand his words. He thought he had already explained why he wanted to be a soldier. And it was only a week later that Aryen finally came to understand his father's words.
"Kill them!!"
The day after his conversation with his father, the kingdom launched a massive assault. It was an offensive that mobilized all the soldiers Aryen knew. The enemy nation was pushed back without being able to mount any proper resistance. The kingdom easily seized the territory and raised its flag. Aryen watched the returning soldiers celebrating their victory with envious eyes.
"Hey, the war's almost over. If we just take that whole region, we win."
The soldiers Aryen met after the battle wore triumphant smiles. Aryen looked at the soldiers who had laid down their spears and swords and removed their helmets. Blood from God knows who was smeared on their cheeks and armor, dried into a dark brown.
"Once we win, you won't have to wander around here in fear anymore. And you won't have to look at corpses either."
The soldiers spoke cheerfully, poking the ground with the tips of their swords.
"I want to be a soldier too."
The soldiers burst into laughter at Aryen's words.
"Forget it, kid, forget it. This isn't a good job. It might look cool to you right now, but actually holding a spear is a completely different story."
"Otherwise, I'll probably end up a woodcutter like my dad. Though that doesn't sound very fun."
"A woodcutter is a much better profession than ours. Chopping wood is better than chopping people."
The soldiers chuckled. Aryen shook his head, not quite understanding.
"Well, you still have plenty of time, Crow, so think it over. Though I think it'd be better for you to just listen to your elders rather than overthinking it."
And that was the last time Aryen ever saw those soldiers in his memories.
That very night, the enemy nation launched a counteroffensive targeting the Kairos Kingdom's soldiers who had penetrated deep into their territory. The enemy forces, who had been lying in ambush near the border, surrounded the territory and swiftly devoured the isolated kingdom troops. Riding their momentum, the enemy advanced into the kingdom's lands.
"That's it. You're a quick learner, Aryen."
At the moment they began their full-scale advance, Aryen was in the forest practicing chopping wood with his father. Without putting too much tension in his wrists and arms—*swing, thud.* The axe embedded itself into the tree trunk. His father's old axe fit Aryen's hands perfectly, as if it had been his from the very beginning. His father silently watched Aryen strike the base of the tree. The gash was growing deeper and deeper. A few more strikes, and the tree would fall.
"I won't stop you from becoming a soldier."
At his father's words, Aryen wiped his sweat and turned his head.
"Really?"
"Yes. If that is truly what you want..."
*Thud.*
Just then, a sound like something collapsing echoed in the distance. The noise didn't stop at a single occurrence; it scattered into sporadic, chaotic sounds, spreading like ink dropped in water. His father's face turned pale. He immediately began running toward the village.
Aryen ran after his father, axe in hand. His father was fast. Panting heavily, Aryen strained to keep his father's figure in sight as he sprinted forward.
"Find the Kairos bastards! Kill anyone who resists without mercy!"
The noise grew louder as he neared the edge of the forest, pounding against his eardrums. Aryen stopped at the forest's exit. The village was burning. Amidst the flames, a living hell was unfolding. It wasn't just enemy soldiers. The kingdom's soldiers and the enemy forces were tangled in a chaotic, bloody brawl. Cries of "Die!" and "Kill them!" filled the air. Aryen stood frozen, completely forgetting to follow his father as he stared blankly at the scene.
*Chopping wood is better than chopping people.*
Aryen witnessed the throat of the soldier who had said those words get pierced by a spear.
"Aryen!! Run to the forest, quickly!!"
His father's shout. Aryen didn't process the command, instead blindly moving toward his father's voice. Home. Where was their home? Screams and the sounds of collapsing bodies echoed all around him. With a loud crash, the front door of a house collapsed, and his father and an enemy soldier tumbled out, rolling onto the dirt ground. His father's eyes locked onto Aryen's.
"Aryen!! What are you doing?! Run, now!!"
*Squelch.*
A blade pierced his father's chest. The blood didn't spray; it pooled and ran down his chest. Aryen watched his father's blood soak into the dirt. His father rolled over and struck the soldier's face. The soldier thrashed, twisting his sword, and his father coughed up blood. Other soldiers rushed over, driving their spears into his father's back. Aryen refused to think about what might have happened to his mother.
"Aryen!!"
Even in his final moments, his father screamed his name. Aryen stumbled back, then turned and bolted. His heart was hammering at an unnatural pace. A strange stench clung to the tip of his nose—the sickening smell of burning flesh. He ran back the way he had come. Under the blazing sun and the pouring blood, Aryen kept running. To the forest. Where was he supposed to go? The only place Aryen could think of was the clearing where he had been chopping wood with his father.
As Aryen burst through the bushes, a soldier who had been sitting with his helmet off stood up. It wasn't the armor of the Kairos Kingdom.
"What's this? Some brat escaped?"
The soldier seemed out of his mind, half of his face drenched in blood. He stumbled toward Aryen.
"You should have just stayed put over there."
Drawing his sword, the soldier looked down at Aryen with bloodshot eyes. Aryen slowly took a step back. The sword swung down. Instead of dodging backward, Aryen lunged forward. The soldier was swinging his sword as if fighting an adult. The blade missed Aryen entirely, and the soldier's momentum threw him off balance, causing him to lurch forward.
"Relax your wrists..."
Aryen muttered, gripping the axe with both hands and swinging. The axe flew true without resistance, burying itself into the helmetless soldier's face. *Crunch.* The soldier collapsed on the spot, dead. Blood splattered across Aryen's face. He dropped the axe and slumped to the ground, dazed. The blood soaking his legs felt warm. Then, he heard the rustling of the grass. Someone was approaching.
"You little..."
Was it the soldier's comrade? Aryen stared blankly at another soldier wearing the same armor, who stood frozen in shock. His eyes were wide, and his hands trembled violently. The soldier raised his sword. Aryen didn't have the strength to lift the axe again. He didn't even have time to register the concept of death. His eyes simply followed the descending blade. And then—*squelch.* A blade pierced the soldier's back.
The soldier froze, turning around to look at his assailant.
"You bastards... Why are you..." the soldier stammered, his voice trembling, before collapsing sideways and drawing his last breath. Aryen blinked, looking at the one-eyed woman and the men who appeared behind the fallen soldier.
"Trying to kill a kid? How low can you get? Swinging a sword before I could even stop you."
The woman spoke in a rough voice, bending her knees to look at Aryen. She looked back and forth between Aryen, the axe in his hand, and the dead soldier. Frowning, she let out a low hum.
"Hey, boys. No one saw that, right? Let's get out of here first."
"...If we get caught, they won't let this slide, Boss."
"So what? We won't get caught anyway. Our job here is done, isn't it? We already got paid in advance."
The men shook their heads. The woman flashed a sharp grin and looked at Aryen.
"What do you say, crow-faced kid? Want to come with us?"
Without realizing it, Aryen reached out and took the hand she offered. The woman's smile widened.