A Fateful Awakening

"What... the?"

Bennett was not a man easily shaken. Over a decade of scraping by on razor-thin margins had forged his nerves into cold steel, yet even he found it impossible to remain calm in the face of what was unfolding before his eyes.

Wuuung—

A low, resonant hum vibrated against his skin. The necklace his father had passed down to him was being drawn inward, sinking straight through his chest. Like a stone swallowed by a bottomless swamp, the metallic trinket slipped smoothly past flesh and bone. If something like that were burrowing into a man's body, common sense dictated there ought to be excruciating pain—or at least the nauseating sensation of a foreign object tearing through him. Yet he felt nothing.

With one final, faint tremor, the necklace vanished. It disappeared so cleanly it felt as though it had never existed in the first place.

Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, Bennett pressed his calloused hand against his sternum.

"..."

All his fingers found was skin, roughened and scarred by years of relentless struggle. Nowhere could he feel the cool touch of metal. Just as his expression twisted in grief and fury over losing the sole keepsake left by his parents, the air in front of him rippled.

"What?"

He muttered the word aloud, but no answer came. Instead, a bizarre, translucent window crystallized before his eyes.

In place of the vanished keepsake hung this incomprehensible display. Bennett stared at the glowing letters, his thoughts drifting back across a decade to the day he had first received that pendant.

Ten years ago, he had been nothing more than an ordinary boy in a quiet countryside village. He was the sort of kid you could find anywhere—giving his parents a modest amount of grief, doing the occasional good deed, and playing his fair share of mischievous pranks. His father had been more like an easygoing friend than a stern authority figure, while his mother had been the stricter of the two. Whenever his mother laid down the law, his father would slip in afterward to smooth over the rough edges.

That day had been just like any other. Bennett had gotten into a fistfight with a neighborhood boy and had taken a thorough scolding from his mother for it. Sniffling with his head hung low, his swollen, reddened hands dangling at his sides, Bennett had felt a warm presence approach.

"Hurts pretty bad, doesn't it, son?"

"Yes..."

Looking down at the battered hands, his father had clicked his tongue in sympathy. "Your mother really goes overboard sometimes. A good talking-to would've done the trick, but no, she had to go and hit you."

His father pulled out a small tin of salve he had brought along and gently began smoothing it over the bruises. It wasn't miracle medicine by any stretch, just a common ointment he had purchased during a past trip to the city, but the cool balm took the fire out of the skin.

"Try not to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠work with those hands for the next few days. It'll take time for that swelling to come down."

"Okay."

"And go tell your mother you're sorry later, all right?"

"But Johnson was the one who started it...!"

The moment his eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠met his father's steady gaze, Bennett bowed his head. "...I understand."

"Good boy. That's my lad." A broad, calloused hand ruffled Bennett's hair with rough affection. "And because you're being so reasonable, I'm going to give you a present."

"A present?"

His father unclasped the necklace around his neck and held it out. Bennett's eyes went wide. Young as he was, he knew very well how much his father treasured that object. It had no precious gems embedded in it, and its shape was crude and unpolished, yet his father had kept it pressed against his chest day in and day out.

"A-are you sure I can have this?"

"Of course! You're practically a grown man now."

The proud grin Bennett wore after putting on the necklace did not last even a full day. That very night, as he and his little sister slept sprawled out, having kicked away their blankets as they always did, their mother had shaken them awake in a frenzy.

"Mm... Mom?"

"Bennett, get up! Right now!"

Young and heavy with sleep though he was, Bennett instantly recognized that something had gone terribly wrong. He had seen his mother angry, tired, and exasperated, but he had never once seen the emotion that gripped her face now: naked, paralyzing terror.

"Take Bella and hide."

"Wh-where do we go?"

"Follow me!"

There was no room to ask what was happening. Hauled along by his mother's desperate grip, they were dragged toward the small storehouse beside the house. She pulled them into the deepest corner and cleared away a pile of crates, exposing a narrow crawlspace Bennett had never known existed.

"Mom?"

"Stay inside," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Don't make a sound, and don't you dare come out until your father or I come to get you."

"O-okay."

His mother sealed the opening and vanished, leaving Bennett huddled in the suffocating dark beside his little sister.

"Bennett, what's wrong with Mommy?" Bella whimpered, tears welling in her large eyes.

"...I don't know."

It was right around then that the violent racket shattered the stillness of the night.

"Is this the place?"

"Yes, sir."

Dozens of men had surrounded their home. Clad in heavy armor and brandishing weapons, they fanned out across the property, violently tearing the place apart.

"What is the meaning of this?!" his father's roar echoed from the main room. Both his parents stood their ground, shouting to bar the intruders' path, but their resistance was short-lived.

"Noisy," a cold voice drawled from the doorway. "Shut them up."

At the commander's casual order, the thugs swarmed forward. His father managed to yank a sword down from the wall and cut down two of them in a desperate fury, but the numbers were overwhelmingly against him. A relentless barrage of iron-shod clubs rained down from every angle. Battered and drenched in their own blood, both his father and mother were slammed to the floorboards.

Beside him in the crawlspace, Bella inhaled sharply, about to let out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a piercing scream. Bennett moved on instinct, clapping his hand firmly over her mouth.

Hush, he pleaded silently.

Gently stroking Bella's trembling back, he pressed his eye against a crack in the wooden boards. A young man, arrogant and aloof, stood looking down at his broken parents. The man's lips parted, muttering something in a low voice. Bennett strained with every fiber of his being to hear, but only fragmented phrases drifted through the gaps in the wood.

"Tell me where it is now. Do that, and I'll grant you a clean death."

"..."

"I strongly advise you not to test my patience."

The one-sided interrogation dragged on, yet those few threatening words were all Bennett could piece together. After glaring down in silence, the commander's brow knitted with sudden impatience. Without a word of warning, he drew the blade at his hip.

Behind the wall, Bennett's breath hitched, his eyes stretching wide in sheer horror.

Slash!

With a clean, sickening sweep of steel, his parents' throats were opened. Their bodies collapsed limp onto the blood-soaked floorboards. Barking a few curt instructions to his men, the commander turned on his heel and walked out into the yard. But the nightmare was not over. Even after their leader departed, several armed men remained behind.

"Torch the place and pull out!"

"Understood!"

Whoosh—

Flames roared to life, eagerly devouring dry timber and thatch. Only after the house was engulfed in an inferno did the armed men leave. Clinging tightly to a dazed, trembling Bella, Bennett had scrambled out of the crawlspace and fled blindly into the night.

In the span of a single evening, they had lost their home, their family, and their peaceful life. From that night on, Bennett and Bella had lived as wandering vagrants. Bella, inherently frail since birth, had contracted a mysterious illness amidst the bitter cold and hunger of their travels. To keep his sister alive and to scrape together enough food to survive, Bennett had taken up the sword and entered the mercenary trade.

It had been an agonizing existence. Bella's condition was an exceedingly rare wasting disease that regular physicians couldn't even name, let alone cure. Merely purchasing the concoctions needed to stabilize her condition demanded astronomical sums of coin. And on top of that crushing burden burned an unyielding thirst for vengeance against the monsters who had slaughtered his family.

Bennett possessed only a single clue: the crest emblazoned on the chest of the man who had ordered his parents' execution.

'Hmm? That's the crest of the Drake Family.'

'...The Drake Family?'

'You know, one of the great noble houses that rules Dungeon City.'

After years of wandering from one mercenary contract to another, Bennett ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had finally turned his footsteps toward the Dungeon City—a colossal melting pot of ambition, wealth, and violence built atop the nexus of portals leading into the ruined worlds of the past. Thousands of mercenaries, discharged soldiers, disgraced knights, and ambitious researchers poured through the gates every day, all chasing their own desires: to plunder the ruins of a collapsed civilization and unearth priceless artifacts.

Bennett was no different. He had come to find an elixir that could eradicate his sister's affliction once and for all, and to hunt down the Drake Family.

"Bennett?"

"..."

"Bennett!"

The soft, worried call pulled Bennett from the depths of his memories. He blinked and turned around. Bella stood before him, her delicate, pale face pinched with concern.

"What is it? Are you all right?"

"Just lost in thought for a second."

Reassuring his younger sister with a faint, comforting nod, Bennett shifted his gaze back to the glowing window hovering silently in the air. For ten years, he had believed the necklace was nothing more than a simple family heirloom. Yet the moment he stepped foot inside Dungeon City, this bizarre phenomenon had triggered.

Could the necklace have originated from the dungeons? Was it an artifact dragged out of that apocalyptic realm all along? If so, the likelihood that it was the very reason his parents had been butchered was... higher than ever.

"Just what the hell are you?" Bennett muttered beneath his breath.

The glowing blue-green window, however, offered no explanation. Instead, the text dissolved, replaced by a sharp, crisp line of new letters.