New World — Umi’s Farm

  Isaac lay on a bed that was too comfortable for someone who’d been swallowed by a broken amulet. He stared at the ceiling, eyes dry, mind loud.

  A creature that hunted at night.

  He’d fought gods. He’d been hunted by Paradise. He’d bled in wars.

  But this felt different.

  Because here… he was empty.

  His powers were dull. Yu was silent. The air didn’t answer him the way Mundus always did.

  If I walk out there without my strength… I’m just meat.

  He closed his eyes, then opened them again, lifting his hand in front of his face like it belonged to someone else.

  I never truly controlled Berserk.

  His adoptive father, King Goda, had.

  Perfect control. No waste. No blackout. No losing himself.

  Isaac sat up slowly and drew a breath.

  He tried to focus.

  Tried to reach that place inside him without anger—without pain.

  He held it.

  He forced it.

  Nothing happened.

  Isaac’s shoulders sank.

  “…I can’t,” he whispered.

  How do you control something built from fury?

  He laid back down, staring at the ceiling until his eyes finally closed.

  Morning

  The smell of food pulled him out of sleep.

  Isaac walked to the kitchen, still half-asleep—

  Then stopped cold.

  Umi, Mini, and Anya stood near the doorway, staring outside.

  Isaac stepped up behind them.

  “Good morning—wait…”

  The ground was torn.

  A single gouge raked across the packed earth, deep enough to make Isaac’s stomach tighten. Like a giant claw had scraped the farm with boredom.

  And nearby…

  Something sat half-buried in the dirt.

  A carcass.

  Not fresh meat—bones.

  A strange, medium-sized creature reduced to ribs and skull like it had been cleaned in minutes.

  Umi’s voice was quiet. “It came last night.”

  Isaac crouched immediately.

  “It’s huge…”

  He didn’t touch anything yet—just looked.

  The claw mark. The angle. The depth. The spacing.

  He studied the prints around it—paw shape, nails, the pattern of pressure in the soil. He searched for hair caught in splinters, for any small clue the night had left behind.

  His eyes narrowed.

  This…

  I’ve seen something like this.

  Maybe not here.

  Maybe in old stories.

  Or maybe in the wrong corner of a battlefield that smelled like death.

  Isaac’s gaze stayed on the ground, thinking fast.

  He didn’t notice the way the three elves were watching him now—careful, suspicious. Like they were realizing he wasn’t a normal lost traveler.

  Later

  Warm water ran down Isaac’s back.

  He stood under it, head lowered, the sound of it covering his thoughts.

  I should go out tonight.

  Not because he wanted to.

  Because he had to know.

  If that thing is real… I need to understand it before I walk two days to Lunavale like a blind man.

  He exhaled slowly.

  But how do I fight it like this? With sparks and a half-dead Berserk that won’t answer?

  A sound snapped through the air.

  A small, sharp noise—like something shifting where it shouldn’t.

  Isaac’s eyes opened.

  He shut off the water, grabbed the towel, and moved fast—quiet feet, controlled breathing, scanning corners.

  He stepped out of the wash area.

  Nothing.

  No footsteps.

  No presence.

  No smell.

  Only silence.

  Isaac stood still for a long moment, towel tight in his fist.

  Then he returned to his room.

  But the feeling stayed.

  Like he was being measured.

  Evening

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Isaac sat on the bed, staring at nothing, running plans in his head like they were weapons.

  Then the door opened.

  Anya slipped inside with a bright smile, holding a small plate.

  “I brought you something,” she said proudly.

  Isaac’s expression softened without permission.

  He took the food, then lifted Anya and placed her on his lap like she’d done it a hundred times already. She giggled and fed him a bite with her tiny fingers.

  Isaac ate and smiled. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

  He kissed her forehead.

  Anya looked pleased, almost smug.

  “Thank you, miss,” Isaac said. “Seriously.”

  Anya nodded like she was a grown woman doing charity work.

  Isaac hesitated, then asked carefully, “Can I ask you something?”

  Anya nodded again.

  “Who’s Anya’s father?” Isaac asked gently.

  Anya blinked at him like the question was strange.

  “It’s not father,” she said.

  Isaac paused. “What?”

  “Mini,” Anya answered, simple. “Mini is the father.”

  Isaac stared, not understanding.

  He didn’t laugh. He didn’t argue. He just tried to process a child’s words.

  “You mean…” he said slowly, choosing the simplest path. “Your dad. A man.”

  Anya shook her head like he was the one being silly.

  “No.”

  Isaac forced a small smile. “No what?”

  Anya leaned closer, voice casual, like she was talking about the weather.

  “Anya never saw a male. The uncle is the first.”

  Isaac’s smile faded.

  He looked at her—really looked.

  And for the first time since arriving, he felt a different kind of chill.

  Not fear of a monster.

  Fear of what this world was.

  Anya hopped off his lap. “I have to go. Bye!”

  She ran out like nothing had happened.

  Isaac stayed sitting on the bed, holding the plate, food forgotten.

  His eyes were fixed on the doorway.

  And the questions started stacking in his head—one after another—heavy, ugly, endless.

  No males?

  First male she’s ever seen?

  Then what is Mini, really?

  What kind of “New World” did I fall into…?

  

  Three Days Later

  Isaac got into the rhythm. Fixing boards. Carrying crates. Washing dishes. Planning in silence. Umi and Mini smiled like everything was normal, but it never felt normal. They watched him too much. They steered Anya away whenever he got close to the door at night.

  That evening, he stood at the sink again. Water running. Plates clinking. Umi drying beside him.

  “Can I ask something?” he said quietly.

  “Of course,” she replied, smiling without looking up.

  Isaac hesitated. “Anya’s father…”

  Umi’s hand paused for half a second.

  Isaac instantly regretted it. “Forget it. Sorry.”

  Umi breathed in, then kept drying the plate like nothing happened. “It’s fine. Just finish that. Thank you.”

  She walked away.

  Isaac stared at the foam and muttered, dry as sand, “Great talk.”

  Midnight

  He woke up because the air felt heavy.

  Not cold. Not loud. Just… wrong.

  Isaac opened his eyes slowly.

  Moonlight spilled across the room.

  And Mini was standing near his bed, still as a statue, staring at him like he was something rare.

  Isaac sat up fast, heart hammering. “Mini…?”

  A forearm snapped around his neck from behind.

  Umi.

  It wasn’t sloppy. It was clean. Strong—too strong.

  Isaac’s eyes widened. “Why—”

  The pressure tightened. Something invisible locked around his throat like a collar.

  He coughed once and dropped to one knee.

  Mini stepped closer, calm. “Don’t fight.”

  Isaac grabbed at his neck, teeth clenched. “What is this?”

  Umi pulled the invisible line, and his body jerked forward. “Quiet.”

  Mini crouched in front of him. “The royal patrol comes at sunrise.”

  Isaac blinked. “Royal… patrol?”

  Umi forced his chin up by his hair. Her voice was flat. “We were supposed to report you on day one.”

  “Report me… for what?” Isaac rasped.

  Mini’s mouth curved into a small, cruel smile. “Because you’re a man.”

  Isaac froze. “…What?”

  Umi stepped back like she was talking about a storm, not a person. “There are no men in this world.”

  Isaac’s mind tried to reject it. “That doesn’t—”

  “It does,” Mini cut in, and her smile faded. “There used to be.”

  Umi glanced toward the dark hallway. “Until the Night Creature.”

  Isaac’s stomach tightened.

  Mini whispered it like a rule everyone lived under. “The ones who survived disappeared. The rest became stories.”

  Isaac swallowed, eyes burning. “So where do I fit in?”

  Umi answered without blinking. “You’re going to the capital.”

  “To be judged,” Isaac said, more statement than question.

  Mini nodded. “The queen wants to see the outsider.”

  Umi spat the words like they tasted rotten. “She wants to put you in a chain and call it ‘order.’ A trophy.”

  Isaac stared at both of them, throat aching under the collar. “So you fed me… gave me a place to sleep… just to hand me over.”

  Umi didn’t deny it. She just tightened the line again.

  Mini turned her head toward the hall. “Get the sleeping dust.”

  Umi nodded once. “Now.”

  They left.

  Isaac stayed kneeling, breathing slow. He tried strength—his body refused. Tried to call Yu—nothing. Tried his eyes—no beam. Only weak sparks in his fingers, embarrassing and small.

  He closed his eyes.

  Breathed.

  Then fed the sparks until the binding warmed.

  One more push.

  The rope softened.

  Isaac ripped free, stood up, and grabbed the invisible collar line with both hands. His throat burned as he pulled like he was tearing a hook out of his own flesh.

  The magic snapped.

  Silence.

  He moved through the corridor fast, controlled, barefoot and quiet. At the far end, Umi and Mini were running back, laughing under their breath, carrying something in a bag.

  Isaac didn’t wait to see what it was.

  He yanked the door latch until it broke and slipped outside into the night.

  Behind him—shouting.

  “ISAAC!”

  Footsteps. Panic. Anya crying somewhere inside the house.

  He ran into the trees.

  Just lungs on fire and blood in his mouth from the collar.

  And then he felt it again.

  That breathing.

  Close.

  Isaac slowed, scanning the darkness.

  Nothing.

  Then he saw it.

  A black cloud hanging between the trees like spilled ink.

  It wasn’t mist.

  It moved with purpose.

  It twisted… gathered… thickened—

  And became a body.

  A massive black dragon unfolded in silence, wings rising like a roof over the forest, scales swallowing the moonlight.

  Isaac stood still, staring up.

  The creature blocked the stars.

  And in that moment, he understood why nobody walked at night in the New World.

  Isaac froze the moment the black dragon finished forming.

  It was too big. Too close. Too quiet.

  Then it moved.

  The dragon lunged.

  Isaac threw himself sideways, hit the dirt, rolled, and felt claws rip through the ground where his chest had been. Trees snapped. Wood exploded. The tail whipped past like a blade and tore two trunks in half.

  He got up and ran.

  Just lungs burning and feet slipping on roots.

  Behind him, the forest kept collapsing. Not chasing—erasing.

  Isaac glanced over his shoulder and his stomach dropped. The dragon was coming through the trees like they weren’t there, wings folding and unfolding between trunks, claws carving trenches in the soil.

  “Damn it…”

  He tried his eyes.

  A faint glow.

  Nothing.

  He tried again.

  Nothing.

  Isaac swallowed hard and forced himself to think. If I stay in the trees, I die.

  He changed direction.

  Downhill.

  Toward the lake.

  The ground turned slick. Mud. Loose rock. A narrow ridge ahead—stone on one side, open drop on the other.

  Perfect.

  Not safe.

  Perfect.

  The dragon lowered its head and snapped at him again.

  Isaac ducked so hard he scraped his shoulder on the ground. Teeth closed on air inches from his neck. The breath alone felt hot.

  He sprinted onto the ridge and stopped at the very edge.

  He turned.

  The dragon stepped onto the narrow stone, claws cutting grooves into it. Too much weight, too little space. It had to commit.

  Isaac’s hands shook. His body begged him to run.

  He didn’t.

  “Come on…” he whispered.

  The dragon charged.

  Isaac dove under the first swipe and slid across the stone. He grabbed a thick vine hanging from a broken tree and wrapped it once around a jagged rock outcrop.

  Not to pull the dragon.

  Just to trip it.

  The dragon’s front foot landed.

  The vine snapped tight.

  For half a second, the leg didn’t move the way it wanted to.

  That was all Isaac needed.

  The dragon’s weight shifted wrong.

  One claw slipped off the ridge.

  Its body lurched.

  Isaac launched himself at its head, grabbed onto the ridge of horn and scale, and held on as the dragon thrashed. The ridge shook like an earthquake. His shoulder screamed.

  “Now,” Isaac growled through his teeth.

  He tore a sharp rock shard from the ridge—jagged, ugly, heavy—and jammed it up under the dragon’s jaw, into the soft spot where armor wasn’t.

  The dragon roared.

  The sound punched through Isaac’s skull. His vision blurred. Blood—black and hot—burst out over his hands.

  The dragon snapped its mouth, trying to bite him off.

  Isaac shoved his forearm against its teeth just to keep distance, then drove the shard deeper with both hands, using his whole body like a hammer.

  The dragon jerked, trying to pull back onto the ridge.

  Isaac felt himself lifting—almost thrown—

  And something inside him flickered on.

  Pure rage.

  [Berserk Mode — weak]

  A faint glow crawled under his cheekbones, then dimmed. His bones didn’t fully ignite… but his grip got heavier. His breath got sharper. His pain got quieter.

  Isaac snarled and forced every spark he had into his arms

  Just pressure.

  Just heat.

  He slammed the shard upward again.

  The dragon convulsed.

  Its claws scraped and slipped, desperate.

  Isaac pushed one last time and felt the shard hit something soft, then give.

  The dragon went heavy.

  Its strength vanished like a rope cut in half.

  It tipped off the ridge.

  Fell.

  And dragged Isaac with it.

  They hit the lake like a meteor.

  Cold swallowed him. Black blood spread through the water like ink. Isaac didn’t even know which way was up for a second—then his instincts kicked.

  He kicked hard and broke the surface with a violent gasp.

  The dragon floated nearby, still and enormous, its blood painting the water dark.

  Isaac crawled onto the shore on shaking arms, leaving smeared black streaks across the rocks. His Berserk glow was gone. His body felt hollow.

  He collapsed on his back, staring up at the orange-tinted sky through the trees, chest heaving.

  Then his eyes rolled shut.

  And he passed out