Cael, a farmer's son, loses his father when a beast stampede masks an attack on his village. His father's last words: find the ones behind this crest. The brassão he presses into Cael's hand marks one of the highest ranks of the Order of the Eternal Flame — but Cael cannot read it.
Left with only his broken uncle Aldren — a man whose fragmented mind drifts between true and false memory — Cael pushes the wheelchair onto the open road.
Along the way, he meets Lys, a young mage bound for a great
Crest in Ashes - A single crest fallen in the field of ashes
Morning mist still crawled thinly across the fields.
In the eastern fields of Elden Village, Kale Elden gripped a sickle. Sixteen years old. Disheveled chestnut-brown short hair, a sun-tanned slender frame. Calloused palms hardened by farm work. A simple linen jacket and trousers bore white traces of countless repairs. His calm hazel eyes were fixed beyond the swaying wheat ears.
In the neighboring field, a boy the same age sat at the edge of a furrow, reading an open book. Leather cover, pages worn thin. Each time the boy's finger traced the characters, something like a small thorn pricked deep in Kale's chest.
(He can read.)
He could read. That boy could read characters.
(But I can't even write my own name.)
Kale turned his gaze away and swung the sickle. The wheat stalk fell with a sharp sound. A dry noise. That sound alone was everything in his world.
"Kale, your hands have stopped moving."
His mother's voice came from behind. He turned to see her bent over, bundling wheat. A woman just past forty. Sun-darkened face, chestnut hair tied up, gnarled fingers. Those fingertips always smelled of soil.
"...Sorry."
"You don't need to apologize. But if you space out, you'll cut your fingers."
His mother said this with a wry smile. Fine lines of exhaustion ran along the edges of that smile. Seeing it, Kale gripped the sickle again.
Beyond the field, a wheelchair sat on the porch of a house.
In the wheelchair sat a man with silver hair streaked with white. Aldren Serius. Kale's uncle. Fifty years old. His long hair was unkempt, his gray eyes hollow yet occasionally gleaming sharp as a blade. His thin body, his limp limbs—yet his spine somehow remained unbent.
Aldren was gazing at the sky.
"...La la la... the flame sings... in the ashes..."
It was a melody without meaning. Since childhood, Kale had heard his uncle's mutterings hundreds of times. Whether it was a song, an incantation, or the remnants of a broken memory—no one knew. Not even Aldren himself, probably.
"Uncle's singing that weird song again."
"...It is not a song. ...A prayer, it is. ...Probably."
Aldren said this and turned his face back to the sky. His gray eyes were drawn into the gaps between clouds. Kale watched his profile for a moment, then turned back toward the wheat.
Elden Village lay at the western edge of the Leonhardt Kingdom. A small farming village adjacent to the Demon Beast Forest. The population was around one hundred fifty. The villagers lived meagerly on wheat, grapes, and a little hunting.
This continent—the Eterno Continent—had three major powers. The Leonhardt Kingdom in the center, the Granlossa Commercial Federation in the southwest, the Valdria Empire in the northeast. And it had been quite some time since the mages who were said to have saved the continent in the Demon Beast War three hundred years ago had established themselves as equals to knights.
But such stories were distant fantasy to Kale.
(I've never even seen a mage.)
Merchants came to the village once or twice a year at most. Mages, knights, adventurers—none of them existed in Kale's world.
What existed was wheat, soil, and the literacy tax.
"...Does Hal still harbor resentment?"
Aldren muttered abruptly.
"Father? Yeah. He was complaining in front of the village chief's house yesterday too."
"Listen, this literacy tax is absurd. Five gold just for being able to read characters. Five gold—that's enough to buy five hundred loaves of bread. That's what a farmer saves in a year."
Kale turned toward the voice. His father, Hal Elden, stood with a hoe on his shoulder. Mid-forties, sturdy build, sun-reddened face, thick brows. His hazel eyes—the same as Kale's—glinted with anger.
"Father, if you stay angry like that from morning, it'll be bad for your health."
"I'm not angry. I'm appalled. This kingdom, Kale—it favors mages while squeezing taxes from farmers. Those Mage Guild bastards live comfortably in the royal capital while ignoring us."
Hal thrust his hoe into the ground and spat.
"That's why I never taught you to read or write. Even if you learned, they'd just take the literacy tax. It's nothing but a loss."
"But if I could read, wouldn't I understand so many more things?"
"What kind of things?"
"...I don't know. I don't know, so I want to read."
Hal fell silent for a moment. Then he snorted.
"Don't dream like that. Work so we can eat."
(...Yeah, that's right.)
Kale looked down. His father was probably right. Learning to read wouldn't put food on the table. Yet every time he saw that boy reading beside him, something stirred restlessly in his chest. The feeling that he was missing something important.
That was when it happened.
—A deep rumble.
A low vibration crawled up from the depths of the earth.
"...What was that?"
The hand gripping the sickle stopped. The wheat ears swayed all at once. Not wind. A tremor.
"An earthquake...?"
Hal gripped his hoe tighter and glared westward. Toward the Demon Beast Forest.
"A beast. Again."
"We can drive it off. It's always like this, right?"
"Yeah. Always like this."
But it was not like always.
From the watchtower at the village's edge, one of the elders screamed. His voice cracked.
"There are too many! Not ten or twenty! Thirty, forty... no, more!"
"They're coming from all sides! They're surrounding us!"
Kale dropped his sickle and ran. He leaped over the field ridges toward the village square. Already, men carrying hoes and sickles were gathering. But no one's face held the usual composure.
(The beasts are coordinated?)
That was Kale's first sense of wrongness.
Beasts came in packs. But normally they scattered and rampaged chaotically. Yet the footsteps he heard now were synchronized. Regular, approaching from all four directions at a constant speed. As if someone were commanding them.
"Hey, look."
Kale followed his father's pointing finger. On the hill at the village entrance, behind the beast pack, there were human figures.
A group dressed entirely in black. Bodies covered in black cloth, faces hidden behind masks. Ten, fifteen of them. Weapons in hand. Standing orderly behind the beasts.
"Is that... people?"
"Humans. No doubt about it."
Hal's voice dropped low.
"They're controlling the beasts. Beast-calling whistles. It's the work of the Cult."
"The Cult...?"
"The Eternal Flame. The Eternal Flame Cult. The oldest religious order on the continent. Outwardly, they're a charitable organization devoted to prayers of sacred fire. But rumor has it they operate in the shadows—controlling beasts to attack villages, searching for someone bearing a certain crest."
"A crest?"
"A bronze badge. A circle of sun and flame. Said to be the mark of the Cult's highest rank—the Flame Guardian. But something like that couldn't possibly be in this village. So it must be a mistake. ...Probably."
The edge of his words trembled slightly. Kale sensed his father was hiding something.
But there was no time to think.
—Crash.
The village's wooden fence exploded inward. Beasts poured in. Velgrims. Wolf-type demon beasts. Two meters long, one hundred fifty kilograms. Blood-shot eyes, drooling jaws, rows of fangs beyond.
"Kale! The barn! Go!"
"Father!"
"I said go!"
Hal grabbed Kale's shoulder and pushed him toward the barn door.
"Don't move from here. No matter what."
"But Father—"
"It's my job as your father to protect you and Aldren."
With that, Hal closed the door. Darkness. The smell of straw. Kale's heart pounded in his chest.
From outside came the sound of clashing blades. Hal had taken up his rusted sword. A rusted, old sword. Farmers standing against beasts and masked men.
Kale crouched behind a bundle of straw and peered through a gap.
Hal severed one beast's neck. With the return stroke, he tore another's throat. Arms hardened by farm work held enough strength to wield a sword.
(Father's strong.)
But the next moment—
A black-clad masked man circled behind Hal. Silently. By the time Hal noticed, it was too late. The man's blade pierced Hal's abdomen.
"—Ugh, ah..."
Hal fell to his knees. Blood spread across the soil.
"Father!!"
Kale screamed. But his body wouldn't move. His feet were sewn to the floor.
Even as he fell, Hal's right hand remained clenched. From between his fingers, a dull light leaked out. A copper-colored round object.
"...Take this..."
Hal's voice was barely audible.
"...Find the one... who bears this crest..."
That was all. Hal's body collapsed. Blood blackened the field soil.
Kale bit down hard behind the straw bundle. No tears came. Only his fists clenched, nails digging into his palms.
(Move. Move, damn it.)
But his body wouldn't obey.
Then a voice came from the barn's back.
"...The seat of the Flame Guardian..."
Kale turned. Aldren in his wheelchair had his eyes wide open. His gray eyes burned.
"...Is it vacant? ...Has it been filled?"
"Uncle, we have to escape now—"
The moment Kale rushed toward him—
The barn door was kicked open from inside. A masked man entered. In his hand, a short blade wet with blood.
"Found them. A brat and an old man."
"—!"
Kale backed away. But Aldren didn't move.
The man raised his short blade. Kale closed his eyes.
—But no sound came.
Kale opened his eyes fearfully to find an unbelievable sight.
Aldren's hand gripped the masked man's wrist. A thin, trembling hand. Yet the man's arm didn't budge an inch.
"...What are you—"
Aldren's gray eyes pierced the man.
"...Don't interfere."
The next instant, Aldren twisted his hand.
—Crack.
A dull sound. The man's body slammed to the ground. His back hit hard, his breath caught. The short blade clattered across the floor.
(What was that?)
A crippled old man in a wheelchair. That wasn't his movement. It was fast, precise, efficient. The refined motion of someone who had fought for decades.
Aldren immediately lost his strength. Like a cut string, he slumped against the wheelchair's back. His gray eyes grew hollow again.
"...Kale. ...We go."
"Uncle, what was that just—"
"We go."
Aldren's voice was already hoarse. But his words carried an undeniable weight.
Kale peered through the gap at the outside.
The village was beginning to burn. Houses erupted in flame one after another. Beast howls, human screams, the clash of blades. All mixed into the sound of hell.
(Mother...)
Kale looked toward the kitchen. The window was broken, the interior visible.
—Mother lay on the floor. Her throat cut, drowning in blood.
(...)
No sound came. No tears either. Only something froze solid deep in his chest.
From the garden came the sound of beasts feeding. They were eating his father's body.
(I have to go.)
With trembling hands, Kale pulled the copper badge from between his father's fingers. It was cold. Heavy in his palm. A circle and flame pattern. A crest he didn't understand.
"...Find the one who bears this crest..."
He repeated his father's words. He didn't understand their meaning. But this was all his father had left him.
Kale hung the copper badge around his neck. There was no chain, so he cut a leather cord and tied it. The cold metal swayed on his chest.
"Uncle, let's go."
Kale gripped the wheelchair's handles.
"...Yes."
Aldren was already nearly asleep. But his lips moved slightly.
"...The song is... eternal..."
Kale pushed the wheelchair toward the back exit.
The smell of straw, blood, smoke. All mixed together in the barn he was leaving behind.
Outside should have been daytime, but it was dark as night. Smoke covered the sun. Flames licked the sky.
Kale ran. He ran while pushing the wheelchair.
Just a little more to the hill at the village's edge.
His feet nearly stumbled. He wanted to look back. His mother, his father, everything of their house was in the flames.
(If I look back...)
(My feet will stop.)
He knew it. So he didn't look back.
When he reached the hilltop, Kale stopped once.
Behind him, Elden Village was completely en
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