"Come on, kid—it's not like you're going to jail!"
A knight's voice cut through the chaos of the crowded marketplace.
Erie sprinted through the city, orange hair whipping behind him, heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. He didn't know why he was running. The moment a Black Knight tapped his shoulder and said, "We're here to collect you," his instincts took over.
He didn't ask any questions. All he saw was the black uniform, two swords crossing, and a knight horse in the middle. He ran away as fast as he could, knocking over everything in sight.
Fruit stands collapsed. Signs shattered. Vendors screamed.
He reached the stop sign, and in an instant, he was back where he started.
He ran even harder this time, jumping over the knocked-over fruit stands and stepping on a few tomatoes. Someone stood in his path. He knocked the person over, slipping on more crushed fruit as he ran.
His vision flashed, and everything snapped back into focus. He was standing in front of the three knights, just like before. The three knights watched him with the same flat expressions, shaking their heads like parents disappointed in an impulsive child.
"Those orange eyes of his," one of the knights said. "They make him stand out from the others."
Erie turned around and began to notice the damage he had caused. "What the?" he muttered, turning slowly to face the mess around him. "It's the same alley."
He saw the same squashed tomatoes and overturned stall, as well as a little girl crying on the ground. He looked back at the knights and saw them all standing still, shaking their heads.
The three knights watched as Erie desperately ran and ended back at the beginning point several times.
Shaking his head, one of the knights finally spoke up. "Let me just use my ability, Lupas."
"No Colt," he boasted, looking around at the marketplace and scanning the entire area. "There are too many civilians, and I want him to see the damage he'd caused."
Erie veered left, praying it would be different. But the world flickered—and dropped him back where he began.
"Why do I keep seeing the same spot?" he gasped, panic rising in his throat.
Taking a deep breath to control his breathing, he ran again. But this time, one of the merchants grew tired of watching the same outcome repeat itself. He stepped in Erie's path, blocking him from running further. He slammed into something solid and hit the ground.
"Come on, street rat," the man above him muttered. "You can't run from the knights forever."
Erie blinked up at the merchant whose fruit stand he'd destroyed. His face was unreadable.
Before Erie could react, a knight's gloved hand gripped his shoulder. Two more followed, lifting him like he weighed nothing. His legs dangled, swinging slightly.
"Look what you've done," one said, waving at the wreckage. You even knocked over a little girl," pointing at the crying girl holding her teddy bear.
Erie said nothing. He stared down, shame creeping through his chest like a slow burn.
"You know the rules. Orphans go first. Early draft means better housing, better placement."
The knight sighed.
"You're not in trouble, Erie. Not yet. But that window's closing."
As they carried him through the yard, Erie couldn't shake the question:
"Why send the Black Knights for me?"
They weren't guards. They were elite correctional enforcers—Triple-A ability users. And three Black Knights have been sent after Erie.
Onlookers watched in awe… until the shouting started.
"That boy Hit my Baby! I want him charged with aggravated assault!"
"Yeh! That rat knocked over my stall of cakes!" he yelled. I spent nineteen hours on those cakes!"
Erie's face flushed red. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. He'd just… panicked. He didn't even know why, but he had to escape when he saw the emblems. One moment, he was tying his shoe, then the next, he was sprinting away.
Erie thought about him repeatedly appearing in front of the guards, asking, "I couldn't get away even if I wanted to." he thought. "What ability was that?"
It felt like an endless loop. "Was I teleported over and over again?"
He heard the crying before he saw her.
Erie finally looked up. The knights still carried him through the city's narrow streets when he saw her—small, maybe six years old. She stood with a teddy bear clutched in one hand, rubbing her eyes with the other.
When she saw him, she ran up and grabbed onto one of the knights' legs.
"Please! Please don't take him away!" she cried. "He's always nice to me! He is!"
Her mother rushed up and yanked her back, scooping her into her arms with a scowl.
"That street rat is nothing but trouble," she snapped. "He deserves everything that's coming to him."
She stormed off, but the girl kept looking back until Erie dropped his head between his shoulders, unable to meet her eyes.
A few wet marks hit the ground near his feet… and quickly evaporated on the pavement.
Then he saw it.
A metal arch overhead. Rusted at the edges. Painted letters still clinging to the frame.
'Welcome to Western Orphanage Village.'
Erie stared at it.
"I guess this is it," he thought.
To my death? To prison? Where am I going?
He didn't get time to dwell.
The knights tossed him into the back of a massive passenger van—eight wheels, armored plating, no seats in the rear.
He hit the floor hard. The door slammed behind him.
There were ten others inside, all around his age. Each sat in a different corner—knees drawn in, heads buried, the silence broken only by quiet sobs.
Erie looked around. The windows were large and crystal-clear from the inside. But he realized, with a slight shiver, you couldn't see in from the outside.
"That's smart," Erie thought. "can't see what's in but can only see what's out."
The front door slammed. The van growled to life. The knights climbed in.
They started talking.
At first, Erie couldn't hear much. There were too many cries and too much static in his head. But once he tuned out the sound of the others… the voices came into focus.
"I don't know, Jim. I'm tired of all this chasing," one of the knights muttered. "I'd rather be training."
He pulled out a sleek black tablet, tapped the screen, and a glowing holographic interface sprang to life. With a few swipes, he navigated through files until he stopped at one name.
'Erie Sunheart.'
'Rank, Triple F.'
He tapped it. A red tag flashed across the top: 'DRAFT EVADER'
More remarks followed underneath in crimson letters:
'Thief. Orphan. Street rat. Stinks. Troublemaker. Monster Boy.'
The knight squinted at the list, then glanced back over his shoulder. His eyes met Erie's—sharp, assessing, not unkind.
"You've got a lot of remarks, kid," he said flatly. "Some of 'em sound personal."
He turned back to the others, voice lowering.
"You know… I believe kids more than I believe adults. That little girl in the square—crying for him like that? It didn't look staged to me. It Looked real."
The driver chuckled and shook his head.
"Are you getting soft on me, Colt?"
"Maybe," Colt said. "But you can't tell me that orange-haired kid looked like a monster."
The knight riding shotgun turned to face them, arms crossed over his chest.
"You can't have feelings for these kids," he said coldly. "You know their fate already—especially the ones ranked F."
Colt looked away, jaw clenched. "Still"
The silence settled heavily after that.
Erie sat motionless in the corner, barely breathing. He didn't know whether he should feel grateful or insulted.
Monster boy. F-rank. Draft evader. Street rat.
" is That's how they see me?"
He curled his fingers into the fabric of his pants, digging his nails in.
"I didn't even do anything."
He wasn't even sure what being drafted meant or what would happen next.
But in that moment, tucked between ten trembling orphans and three indifferent soldiers, Erie made himself a quiet promise:
"If I survive whatever this i., I'll make sure they all regret calling me that."
The conversation in the van fell into silence again.
Erie sat, his knees pulled in, gaze fixed on the window ahead. All he could see was an endless stretch of road flanked by tall grass and clusters of trees. The sun beat hard, and shimmering heat waves danced above the pavement.
Out there—roaming the sides of the road—beasts wandered freely. Some ignored the van completely, moving with slow, lazy purpose. Others were locked in fights, snarling and slashing in the distance.
Erie's eyes widened as he caught sight of a stray energy blast hurtling toward them.
It passed straight through the van.
"Wait…" He looked to the opposite window—where the blast exploded against the trees behind them.
He sat forward.
"What was that?"
A shadow moved alongside the van. Erie's heart skipped.
A beast. Transparent. Floating just inches from the window—then gone, passed through like fog.
Its body was vaguely human—long and thin, with colorless skin and empty white eyes. Its head flickered like wind-blown hair. It didn't roar or react—it just drifted.
Then the van sped past, and it vanished behind them.
What is happening? Erie whispered.
But he must've said it louder than he realized.
The knights stirred.
"The kid doesn't even know about abilities," Jim muttered.
Then—bam!
The silent knight slammed his hand against the dashboard. A crackling electric pulse surged from his palm, sparking through the front of the vehicle. The van jolted. It stalled for half a second.
"Are you crazy, Raven?!" Jim snapped. "What the hell was that?"
Raven shook his head slowly, eyes burning.
"They can't keep sending these kids out to the Beast Fields without training," he growled.
"They're killing them, Jim."
After Raven's outburst, Erie blinked—and the world changed again.
One moment, trees lined the endless road. The next, his vision warped like heat rippling off the pavement. When it cleared, the outside was gone.
Now, there was a city.
A massive, gleaming structure loomed in front of him. Erie stared wide-eyed, trying to make sense of what just happened.
"Did we go through a portal? A barrier?"
"What is this place?" he murmured.
Before he could ask again, the knights in the front seats vanished. The back doors of the van swung open with a heavy clang.
"Alright, street rats!" Jim barked. "End of the line. Everybody out!"
The other ten kids stepped out one by one—silent and hesitant. Erie followed the last to touch solid ground.
All their jaws dropped.
The city towered around them. Smooth steel and gleaming glass stretched into the clouds. Each building resembled a stack of ten massive, seamless, and intimidating.
Erie closed his eyes and sniffed the air. Sweet warmth hit his nose.
"Is that… coffee?" he muttered. "And cake?"
His stomach growled.
But it wasn't the smell that impressed him most—it was the order.
Everything was spotless. Structured. Powerful.
"This is where we're staying?" he whispered.
The knights in black armor walked ahead, approaching a tall man in red-plated armor. Erie's vision blurred again when they bowed and pointed toward the group.
Then it snapped back—like blinking awake from a dream.
Now, he stood inside what looked like a dojo. Three squat buildings ringed the courtyard, and windows overlooked them. Five rows of seats surrounded a raised platform in the center.
A glowing holographic sign floated above it all:
SIT QUIETLY. WAIT FOR YOUR NAME.
Before Erie could process it, one of the kids whispered something under their breath.
CRACK.
A figure appeared in an instant, striking the kid in the neck. They collapsed—out cold.
Erie's breath caught.
He sat up straighter.
Silent.
As he stared at the flickering screen, individual names began to appear.
A low hum vibrated through the air, and the holographic screen flickered again.
The first name appeared in thin, glowing letters.
"Xavier Vax."
A tall boy with slick black hair stood from his seat. He carried himself like he owned the place—head high, shirt neatly pressed, slacks creased and clean. As he passed by Erie, a chill crept down Erie's spine. Something about the kid felt… wrong. Unsettling.
He clutched the hem of his shirt and glanced around at the others.
"Why is this place so tense?" he thought.
Xavier stopped beneath the platform. A man in a white uniform appeared before him, tall and imposing. He leaned forward and whispered something into Xavier's ear. They both nodded. The man placed a hand on Xavier's shoulder—
—and in a flash of light, both of them vanished.
"What just happened?" someone beside Erie whispered.
Before they could say anything more, the same enforcer appeared behind them, chopping the speaker at the base of the neck. The kid slumped, knocked out cold.
Erie's eyes widened. His heart pounded faster. He sat up straighter, locked his arms at his sides, and kept his mouth shut.
Another name lit up.
"Stacy Hartford."
A short girl with freckles stood, posture stiff but proud. She didn't walk—she hovered, levitating slightly off the ground as she glided toward the booth.
A different man in white appeared. It was the same process. He whispered words, and a smile exchanged.
Gone in the blink of a light.
"Where are they going?" Erie wondered. "What's going to happen to me?"
The names continued down the list.
"Gene Gane."
"Rachel Standoff."
"Larry Burk."
One after another, each orphan disappeared with someone different. Some were smiling. Some looked terrified. Every time, someone new in white appeared to take them.
Then it happened.
"Erie Sunheart."
His name echoed in his chest like a hammer strike.
He stood slowly, heart thumping loud and fast. As his name hovered on the screen, red letters began to flicker beneath it:
"REMARKS: Draft Evader. Street Rat. Stinks. Troublemaker. Monster Boy."
Erie's blood ran cold.
"Was I the only one with remarks?" he thought, throat tightening.
He walked forward, hands trembling. Each step toward the booth felt heavier than the last.
A man appeared before him—taller than the rest, face unreadable, cold.
He didn't speak right away. Just stared.
Then, he leaned down, lips close to Erie's ear.
Erie swallowed hard, took a breath, and braced himself.
The man finally began to speak.