On the southernmost coast of the Ernel Serendia continent lay a small fishing village called Ernel.

Tucked away in a quiet spot, it was far beyond the reach of any official.

Near the entrance to the village lived an elderly couple named Hans and Marta.

They had lost all their children to a plague long ago, including their pregnant daughter.

The people of Ernel were simple and kind-hearted, and they took good care of the grieving couple.

Although Hans and Marta felt that life no longer held any meaning, they continued to live out of guilt and gratitude towards their neighbors, who had shown them so much warmth.

One day, while walking along the beach, Hans and Marta found a woman trapped amongst the rocks.

She had a youthful face, light brown hair, and skin as pale as pearl. However, her body was covered in scars as though she had endured a lifetime of hardship.

At first, the couple thought she was a corpse that had been washed ashore.

Occasionally, bodies from shipwrecks or drowning accidents would wash up on Ernel’s coast, so this was not entirely unexpected.

Pitied by them, the woman was to be buried in a sunny spot.

However, as Hans leaned closer, he noticed her chest moving faintly — she was still breathing, barely.

Startled, they quickly called for help and carried her to their home.

Ernel had no doctor.

Occasionally, a travelling herbalist from a distant village would stop by, serving as the closest thing to a doctor.

That day, the herbalist carefully examined the woman.

“It doesn’t look like she’ll survive, elder. I can’t imagine what kind of life could leave someone with wounds like these…”

Her body bore visible and hidden scars.

One along her side was especially deep and fresh, as if inflicted only recently.

“This looks like a wound from a beast. And what’s this? A tattoo?”

On her lower back was a bl＊＊d-red mark shaped like an animal’s fangs.

“Her hair color isn’t natural either. It looks like it was dyed – see here?”

Though they appeared light brown at first, the newly grown roots near her scalp were a vibrant shade of red.

“She must have been involved in something dangerous.

If you ask me, it’s best to let her die. Getting involved might only cause trouble.”

Hans looked down at the young woman, whose breathing was faint but steady.

Much to his relief, she seemed to be recovering; her breaths were calmer than when they had first pulled her from the sea. This recovery defied reason, since she had received no treatment at all.

“How could I leave her to die?”

If their daughter had survived the plague, this woman would be the same age as their daughter would have been.

“She’s already appeared before me. How could I pretend not to see her?”

The herbalist was not naturally a cruel man.

He let out a long sigh and nodded reluctantly.

“Well… I suppose you’re right. There isn’t much I can do, but I’ll at least give you some herbs to help restore her strength. Let’s just hope she isn’t a bad person.”

The woman regained consciousness later that night.

When she awoke, she seemed to have no memory at all.

She couldn’t answer when asked her name or age.

So Hans and Marta gave her a name — Lesta — the name they had once chosen for their unborn granddaughter.

“Lesta. Lesta.”

She repeated her name over and over again, smiling with innocent delight—as if she had never had a name before.

Contrary to the herbalist’s concerns, Lesta wasn’t malicious.

In fact, she seemed like someone who hadn’t lived enough to develop a sense of malice.

Pure, bright and utterly naïve, Lesta was like a newborn child.

At first, the people of Ernel were cautious and wary of her.

However, after a month, they had to admit that she was as innocent as a child.

Although they distrusted outsiders, the villagers were always kind to the young and vulnerable.

Whenever they smiled at Lesta, she smiled back even more brightly.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

Her heart was gentle and childlike, but she was strong.

In fact, she was stronger than Bram, the burliest carpenter in the village.

She could effortlessly lift loads that even he struggled with using just one arm.

Trees that took him several axe blows to fell, she could bring down with a single strike.

The people of Ernel had lived their whole lives in this small, untouched seaside community.

They had no idea that beyond their quiet shores, there were people who would betray, exploit and destroy for power and profit.

To them, greed was simple and almost innocent.

“I hope we don’t run into sea beasts today.”
“May the catch be good.”
“I wish the apple trees we planted last year bear plenty of fruit.”

That was all.

It never occurred to them that this strange, strong young woman might once have been exploited by people seeking eternal power, and then discarded.

Before long, Lesta became precious to everyone in Ernel.

She was cheerful and bright.

She always smiled as she worked, no matter how heavy or difficult the task.

She built barriers to keep wild beasts out of the village and repaired storm-damaged walls and shattered boulders that were too massive for anyone else to break.

She did all this easily, still smiling.

When the villagers tried to offer her something in return, she would hide her hands behind her back and laugh.

“It’s all right. Just call me again if you need help next time.”

She seemed to prefer being called by her name, Lesta, than receiving fruit or vegetables as thanks.

It was as if being addressed by name alone gave her the confidence to achieve anything.

The villagers most appreciated how she handled the sea beasts that appeared near the shore.

Whenever the fishermen sailed even a short distance from the shore, a beast would almost certainly attack them.

These creatures were powerful, swift and deadly — too much for the villagers to fight, even if they all worked together.

Because of the beasts, the people of Ernel could only fish close to the coast.

When Lesta heard their concerns, she smiled brightly and said,

“I’ll take care of it. Just wait a little.”

Despite Hans, Marta and the other villagers trying to stop her, Lesta secretly took a boat out to sea and returned dragging the corpse of a massive creature behind her, its many tentacles spilling across the deck.

“There were too many of them, so I couldn’t get them all,” she said with her usual radiant smile. “But up to the rock shaped like a turtle—it’s safe now.”

The people of Ernel didn’t know that even imperial knights couldn’t slay a sea beast alone. They simply believed fortune itself had washed ashore in the form of this girl.

They believed that until the day Blackwood’s knights stormed the village and killed everyone.

Even in their final moments, Lesta had been a blessing to the people of Ernel.

While she was out at sea hunting the beasts beyond the horizon, the knights of Blackwood descended, slaughtering every villager and setting their homes ablaze.

By the time Lesta finally reached the shore, the sky was black with smoke and the air was thick with the stench of bl＊＊d and ash.

In a single, cruel instant, her paradise had become h＊ll.

‘Grandfather. Grandmother.’

Lesta ran.

The flames engulfing the village licked at her skin, but she didn’t stop.

When she reached the village entrance, she saw that Hans and Marta’s house was still standing. However, armed knights with bl＊＊d-stained swords were emerging from it.

Lesta recognized the armor they wore.

She also recognized the man leading them.

She shouted his name.

“Rexor Blayne!”

The man whose name was called did not recognize her.

When she had worked for the Blackwoods, she had always worn a silver mask.

Only the Blackwood family, their court sorcerer, and Joubert Welter, the commander of the knights, had ever seen her face.

Rexor Blayne, who had once served under Joubert, had never seen her face uncovered.

However, the moment he saw her charging towards him — the moment he witnessed her inhuman speed — he realized who she was.

“You were really alive…?”

Rexor only just managed to raise his sword in self-defense, but Lesta didn’t even glance at him.

She passed straight by, her eyes fixed elsewhere.

The knight standing behind Rexor didn’t understand what was happening before his neck was snapped cleanly by Lesta.

Seizing the fallen knight’s blade, Lesta moved through the smoke and stench of bl＊＊d like a phantom.

Her sword showed no mercy, and her strikes were too fast for even the most seasoned knight to follow.

By the time five knights lay dead at her feet, Rexor Blayne was already fleeing.

Lesta hurled her sword, striking his thigh. He stumbled forward, dragging his leg as he tried to escape.

She grabbed another blade from a fallen knight and threw it again.

Thud.

With both thighs impaled by swords, he could hardly move.

Rexor collapsed forward, landing sprawled in the dirt.

Lesta walked towards him slowly and deliberately.