Shadow of Domination (SoD)

Two years had passed.

The orphanage still stood as it always had—a place of shelter, of warmth, of laughter—but beneath that familiar facade, change had quietly taken root. The children still played, still ran through the halls with innocent joy, but the shadow of reality had long since settled over them.

Hale leaned against a tree in the courtyard, eyes half-lidded, watching the younger kids clumsily swing wooden swords under the sharp gaze of Sir Edran. Two years ago, none of them had even considered training in swordsmanship. But after that incident, everything changed.

The world was no longer simple.

Hale had witnessed it firsthand—the depth of corruption, the ugliness of power, and the fragility of innocence. The older kids had become more aware of their own helplessness. The orphanage, once isolated from the world's cruelty, could no longer remain ignorant.

Sir Edran, once merely a visitor, had become a more permanent presence. His role had shifted from a distant knight to a protector, a teacher. He trained the children not just in swordplay but in survival. Strength was no longer a choice; it was a necessity.

And yet, even as the others trained, pushed forward by the need to be stronger, Hale remained the same. Or rather, he appeared the same.

He sat under the same tree, wore the same lazy expression, and feigned the same indifference. But deep within, Hale was always calculating, always observing.

If those senior kids never bullied me, I wouldn't have done anything, he mused. It's funny how people only react when they're forced to.

The world had forced him to change once. He would not let it force him again.

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hale! What are you thinking about?"

Rena stood before him, hands on her hips, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She had grown stronger over these past two years—not just physically, but in the way she carried herself. Unlike Hale, she had chosen to wield her power openly.

Hale glanced at her lazily.

"I'm thinking about how unfair life is," he sighed dramatically. "Some of us are born talented, like Joan over there." He nodded toward a boy swinging a wooden sword with surprising precision. "And some of us—like me—are born to sit under trees and contemplate existence."

Rena rolled her eyes. "You mean you're just lazy?"

"Exactly," Hale nodded with a smug smile.

Nearby, Edran observed their exchange with an amused expression. Over the years, he had become something of a father figure to Hale, though the boy's attitude often made him sigh in defeat.

"You know, Hale," Joan suddenly spoke up while parrying an imaginary opponent, "you should learn swordsmanship. You have decent reflexes, and it might save your life one day."

Edran nodded. "He's right. You can't just sit under trees forever."

"Can't I, though?" Hale sighed, stretching his arms. "I mean, it seems like a solid life plan."

Edran gave him a flat look. "Hale."

"Yes, Father—I mean, Sir Edran," Hale corrected with a smirk.

Edran ignored the slip and continued, "Even if you refuse to learn the sword, at least train your magic properly. You and Rena have strong affinities."

"True," Rena chimed in. "Unlike you, I'm actually doing something useful with my talent."

Hale waved her off. "That's because you enjoy effort. I prefer to let my brain do the work while my body conserves energy."

Before Rena could retort, a familiar voice rang out.

"Breakfast is ready!"

Sister Anna's voice carried across the courtyard, and like magic, all the kids—including Hale—vanished toward the dining hall.

The dining hall buzzed with chatter as children filled their stomachs, enjoying the rare peaceful moment of the day. Hale, as always, ate at his own pace, occasionally stealing a piece of bread from Rena's plate when she wasn't paying attention.

Midway through his meal, he looked up at Edran with a sharp gaze.

"You've been visiting four times a year now," he stated casually, taking a bite of bread. "Doesn't your superior question why you keep coming back?"

Edran paused mid-bite, then smiled. "No comment."

Hale squinted. "That's suspicious."

Rena leaned closer. "Super suspicious."

Joan nodded. "Definitely hiding something."

Edran sighed. "You lot are too sharp for your own good."

Hale smirked. "Oh, I'm not sharp. I'm just good at knowing when someone is being weird."

Edran chuckled but said nothing more. The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and soon breakfast was over.

After breakfast, Hale slipped away from the others, walking down the narrow, dimly lit alley behind the orphanage. His posture remained as lazy as ever, but his sharp gaze flickered with something else—awareness.

He sighed.

"Ah, what a troublesome day this is going to be."

He adjusted the strap of the small bag he carried, filled with his personal belongings—items that others wouldn't find significant, but to him, they held quiet importance. He wasn't particularly sentimental, but preparation was key.

Hale stopped at a specific spot in the alleyway, his expression unreadable. He exhaled deeply, as if he were about to step onto a stage where the script had already been written.

He was going to be kidnapped.

And he knew it.

It was inevitable.

He had noticed the eyes watching him. He had heard the footsteps that never quite followed, yet never fully disappeared. He had seen the shift in behavior around the orphanage—an unease that no one else had put into words.

And so, he sighed again.

"Honestly… do they think this is their game and Iam just a pawn." He muttered, tilting his head slightly. "How unoriginal."

A cold wind swept through the alley, making the shadows stretch unnaturally. Hale took one last step forward, then stopped.

And in that precise moment—

A hand shot out from the darkness.

A cloth covered his mouth.

His vision blurred.

His body went limp.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

Yet, even as consciousness slipped away, his lips curled ever so slightly.

A whisper, lost to the wind, barely audible—

"Foolish pieces on a board they don't even understand… but let's see how far they dance before they realize who's really moving them."

The game had begun.