Choi Han didn't know what year it was, how long he had been in this nightmarish existence, or how he had even ended up here. Oh, the weariness weighed on him like a suffocating blanket. He had lost everything, and the only thing he clung to was his name. He repeated it over and over again, refusing to let go of his identity. But even that was slowly slipping away from him, like sand through his fingers.
He forced himself to remember his family members' faces, desperately trying to recall their smiles and laughter, but the memories eluded him, slipping into the abyss of forgotten moments. He chanted their names hundreds of thousands of times, but it was futile. No tears came to his eyes, as if his soul had run dry long ago.
In the beginning, Choi Han was the weakest existence in the unforgiving forest. He had cast aside everything that once made him human. His pride, his need for cleanliness, the comforting warmth of a bed, and the simple luxury of rest had all been sacrificed on the altar of survival.
Choi Han often dug shallow holes in the damp earth and hid in them for days at a time, the cold seeping into his bones, hunger gnawing at his insides, and fatigue dragging him into a relentless abyss. He went days without food or sleep, his body a mere shell of its former self.
At times, desperation forced Choi Han to scavenge for meager scraps of sustenance. He picked at discarded morsels of food left behind by monsters, his stomach twisting in protest at the revolting meals. He hid amidst the decaying corpses of the creatures that had once terrified him, feeling the skittering of insects across his malnourished body.
And when the stench of his own existence became too overpowering, he resorted to the unthinkable. Choi Han smeared himself with the foul excrement of monsters, hoping that the putrid odor would mask his presence from the creatures that roamed this relentless wilderness. It was a wretched existence, a never-ending nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.
Choi Han's world had become a bleak and desolate landscape, a place where hope had withered away, leaving behind only the cold, unrelenting grip of despair.
Eventually, Choi Han named his sword art "Dark Destruction Sword Art," a reflection of his relentless determination to obliterate everything that stood in his way, except for his own identity. With each swing of his blade, he cut down the obstacles in his path, carving a straight and unyielding line forward. He knew that as long as he had a direction to follow, he had a chance to find a way out of the abyss that had consumed him.
He couldn't remember when he had acquired the sword, but it had become an extension of himself, a symbol of his will to survive in this unforgiving world. It was his constant companion in the endless battle for survival.
Then, one fateful day, he stumbled upon it—the village. It was a simple place known as Harris Village. The people there offered him something he had been deprived of for years: comfort, friendship, and love. It was a respite from the unrelenting hardships he had endured, a glimpse of humanity's warmth in a world that had seemed devoid of it.
Time blurred and twisted in Choi Han's mind. Were there years he had spent in isolation, or had it only been months? The passage of time had become a confusing haze, a concept that eluded his grasp in the endless struggle for survival. But none of that mattered now, for in Harris Village, he had found something precious—a glimmer of hope, a taste of the life he thought he had lost forever.
Everything was stolen from him as he returned to his village in ruins after collecting medicinal herbs. Choi Han had entered the dangerous forest on a mission to find a healing herb, as one of the villagers who had shown him kindness was gravely ill. As the person most familiar with the treacherous woods, he willingly took on the task of procuring the necessary ingredients. Hours slipped by, and he managed to gather a substantial quantity of herbs, filling a small basket. Notably, he had also amassed a gruesome pile of monster corpses, creatures that had attempted to consume him during his expedition.
