Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 003. The Serpent (1)

“Wow... insane.”

Anagin was at a loss for words.

Because he was still flying through the sky, thrown there by his master’s hand.

Does that even make sense?

No idea. But apparently, it does.

He wanted to ask himself the same thing. No matter how strong someone is, is it really possible to throw a person so hard that they stay in the air this long?

Yet when he glanced to the side and saw birds gliding beside him, he had no choice but to accept it—he was flying.

‘Magic?’

Now that he had a moment of calm, Anagin began to think. Had his master used magic?

What was magic again? A power that manipulates the principles of the world using an unknown force called ‘Yeom’, wasn’t it?

A miraculous force that could light fires without flint, or create ice even when it wasn’t winter.

Maybe this was a kind of magic, too. Otherwise, how could a human be flying for hours?

‘Did he lie to me?’

Anagin remembered when he once asked his master to teach him magic. That man had clearly said he couldn’t use magic, so he couldn’t teach it either. But seeing this, it seemed that was a lie.

Unless he was simply that strong—strong enough to throw Anagin all the way up here.

Funny enough, that actually seemed somewhat believable.

After all, Anagin knew well how absurdly strong his master was—he’d learned that lesson firsthand through countless beatings. Thinking about it now, that too was... kind of a memory.

“—But I don’t have the luxury to be thinking such sentimental nonsense.”

Sssshhhhaaaaaa!

The sound rushing past his ears grew harsher, and Anagin muttered under his breath.

When he looked down, the ground was slowly drawing closer. Which could only mean one thing—he was falling.

‘Damn it, this is bad.’

Watching the earth approach, Anagin thought quickly.

Even a Gigant—one with a superhuman body—wouldn’t come out of a fall from this height unscathed without some kind of countermeasure.

Sure, even if something broke, it would heal soon enough. But pain was something he’d rather not deal with. He was fond of himself, after all.

‘Still, if this is magic, I’ll probably land safely… No, before that, if the old man has even a shred of common sense, he must’ve done something to cushion my landing.’

Anagin held onto that faint hope—that his master, who had tossed him without warning, had at least prepared something.

Whoooosh...!

But the closer the ground came, the rougher the wind screamed in his ears. His hope was fading fast. And then he realized it. There was no such thing.

“Right. That bastard wouldn’t bother with something like that!”

Remembering exactly what kind of man his master was, Anagin reached out and grabbed the very top of the tallest tree in sight.

The unusually tall tree bent hard under his grip, filling Anagin’s falling body with a sudden jolt of resistance.

Crack—!

The trunk groaned and split as the ground drew nearer. For a moment, it looked like he might actually land safely—

Snap!

The branch in his hand broke, and Anagin plummeted again, crashing straight into a large pond with a loud splash.

“Puh-hah…!”

The moment he surfaced, Anagin let out an exasperated sigh. Sure, he appreciated the quick exit from the sky—but would a warning have killed him?

For someone who always called him stupid, his master was clearly the bigger fool.

“Great. First step on this journey, and I’m already soaked.”

He muttered sarcastically as he climbed out of the pond, then began looking for something. It was the bundle of supplies he’d thrown by reflex when the branch snapped.

Right before hitting the water, instinct had made him hurl his pack to the ground. He would’ve been furious if all the food and clothes he’d packed had gotten soaked.

Thankfully, his aim was good—the bundle had landed safely on dry ground. Just a bit of dirt on it, nothing serious.

Tap. Tap.

Anagin brushed off the dirt and looked around.

‘A forest.’

Trees everywhere. Sunlight trickles through the branches. Weeds carpeting the ground.

No matter how he looked at it, it was a forest.

For a moment, he wondered if he hadn’t actually left his home forest yet. But no, that wasn’t it.

The air, the feeling of the place—it was different. And while his master was a strange and suspicious man, he wasn’t one to exaggerate.

If he said he’d send him outside the forest, then he really had.

So, there was only one answer.

He had truly left his home behind. And the place he stood now was another forest—one beyond his own.

“My heart’s already pounding.”

Anagin murmured to himself as he realized the truth.

Outwardly, he kept his composure, but inwardly, he felt a spark of curiosity stir.

Even he was surprised at himself.

He’d never been that interested in the outside world…But now that he was finally in it, he couldn’t help but feel a little excited.

“Whew······.”

Just as the village chief had said, people’s hearts could grow strong or weak, precisely because they were invisible. Seeing how quickly they could change proved it.

It had been right for the chief to tell him to leave immediately—since a heart could change, lingering would’ve been meaningless.

Anagin mulled over the teachings of the other master of the village, the chief, and pondered what he should do next.

He had come out into the world to become a god, sure, but he had no clue how to do that—or even where to go.

First, he needed to figure out where he was. But how was he supposed to do that?

He was just about to start walking in some random direction when—

He heard it.

The sound of hooves, wheels, and the presence of several people.

Anagin turned his head toward the noise. In the distance, something was approaching—clattering and rumbling.

A carriage.

He stood still and waited quietly. The carriage came to a stop right in front of him, as though it had been expecting him.

“Are you all right?”

An old man sitting on the driver’s bench greeted him warmly.

Behind the kindly-looking old man, a boy and a girl—likely his grandchildren—peeked their faces out. Judging by their height, the girl seemed to be the older sibling.

When Anagin didn’t answer, the old man added,

“You look drenched. Aren’t you cold?”

“Where is this place?”

Anagin asked. First things first, he needed to know where he’d landed.

“···This is Apix.”

The old man replied, giving him a puzzled look.

He went on to explain that this was ‘Apix’, a land lying between ‘Hellas’, the land of the civilized, and ‘Barbarland’, the territory of savages and monsters.

Anagin had heard that much from his master.

So he asked another question.

“Are you heading to a village?”

“Yes··· it’s our final destination, but first we’re stopping by a city.”

A city.

Anagin had heard about those, too. A place many times—no, ten times—larger than a village. Surrounded by stone walls, full of countless people and goods.

He honestly found it hard to believe, but it sounded interesting enough.

He decided he might as well go there. A city full of people meant plenty of information to gather.

He’d learned about practitioners from his master, but the kind of practitioner he aimed to become was far more complex—so he needed knowledge.

“Would it be all right if I joined you?”

When he asked if he could ride along, the old man smiled and nodded.

“Of course. We’ve got other passengers anyway.”

Just as the man said, there were already several shabby-looking travelers inside the carriage—besides the grandchildren, there was a woman and child who looked like mother and son, and an old man with spectacles.

Anagin took an empty seat near the front, close to the driver’s bench. The little girl handed him a dry towel.

“Here, you can use this.”

Anagin accepted it, then pulled out a gold coin and offered it to the old man—a coin the village chief had given him.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Well now, aren’t you a rich one?”

The old man exclaimed in surprise.

Handing out gold just for a ride and a towel? That wasn’t something ordinary travelers did.

The other passengers gawked at Anagin with wide eyes.

Anagin himself remained calm, replying casually,

“I’m not rich.”

“Then keep your coin. We didn’t help you for money.”

“Oh, really?”

Anagin tilted his head, and the old man chuckled.

“Haha, do I look like the money-grubbing type to you?”

“No, sir. It’s just—my master told me that outsiders all love money.”

Anagin spoke exactly as he’d heard it. His master had said that people of the outside world were obsessed with wealth—that, in the worst cases, some even sold their own children for it.

Even so, Anagin believed in showing gratitude. In his hometown, repaying kindness was simply the way things were done. Reciprocity was what kept people helping one another.

And if that held true even among villagers, then surely it should apply all the more to strangers met by chance.

“Hm, an outsider, you say? Where are you from?”

“Quite a distance from here.”

“Is that so?”

“Wait—could it be, a Barbaroi······?”

Someone suddenly cut into the conversation between the old man and Anagin. It was the woman sitting in the corner, holding a child in her arms.

“Barbaroi?”

Anagin repeated the word. He had heard it once before from his master—it meant barbarian, didn’t it?

“Sir, make him get off! He’s a barbarian! It’s dangerous!”

The woman’s face twisted in alarm as she shouted.

It was an abrupt situation, but instead of getting angry, Anagin simply observed how things unfolded.

It didn’t really matter to him if they kicked him out—he just needed to follow the carriage, and eventually, it would lead him to the city anyway.

The old man driving the carriage replied calmly,

“Please calm yourself, ma’am. He doesn’t look like the sort to cause trouble.”

“But—!”

“I own this carriage. As long as he doesn’t cause problems, there’s no issue.”

The woman, still clutching her child, shouted in protest, but the old man—despite his kind face—was firm and unyielding. In the end, she gave up.

Once their exchange ended, Anagin naturally joined in the conversation again.

“Are you all from Hellas?”

He recalled something his master had told him: people who immediately called strangers barbarians were usually Hellenes.

For reference, ‘Hellenes’ referred to those who lived in Hellas, and they proudly called themselves civilized.

Everyone else they dismissively called barbarians.

“Yes. Well, I’m actually on my way back there.”

“Back?”

“I’m from Hellas myself, but it’s been decades since I left.”

So that’s why he didn’t kick me out, Anagin thought.

“But are you really a Barbaroi?”

“Should I get off?”

“No, that's not what I mean. It’s just, you speak the common tongue well, and you seem like a Hellene.”

“I’m not sure myself. I’ve never been asked about such trivial things.”

His blunt honesty made the old man laugh.

“Haha! My mistake, then.”

“How did you get here, anyway?”

That question came from the boy sitting nearby—the old man’s grandson, who had been listening intently the whole time.

“Hey, don’t interrupt the grown-ups,” his sister whispered, startled by his sudden interjection.

But Anagin didn’t seem to mind and answered casually,

“I flew here.”

He recalled the hours he had spent soaring through the sky—well, being thrown through the sky—and decided that counted as flying.

Technically, he had been hurled, not soaring of his own will, but still. He had traveled through the air for hours, so it wasn’t exactly a lie. Definitely not because he was embarrassed, of course.

The boy’s eyes, bright with curiosity, quickly dimmed in disappointment.

“Liar! People can’t fly!”

Perhaps thinking he was being tricked, the boy shouted indignantly.

His sister quickly pulled him back and apologized.

“I’m so sorry. My brother’s a little rude.”

“It’s fine. I’m just catching a ride. It’s not like I asked you to believe me.”

Anagin truly didn’t care—believe it or not, it made no difference to him.

He hadn’t said it to be believed in the first place. He just didn’t want to lie, so he told the truth as it was.

Maybe that nonchalance only irritated the boy further, because he turned to drag his grandfather into the argument.

“Grandpa, you don’t believe him either, right? People can’t fly!”

“Well now, child… there’s no need to make a fuss about believing or not, is there? If he says he did, then that’s that.”

“You understand a thing or two.”

Anagin agreed with the old man's relaxed attitude. He seemed like a reasonable man.

“What matters most isn’t how he came here, but why, I suppose. “You must have your own reasons, young man. No need to—”

“I came here to become a god.”

The words dropped like stones into silence.

Anagin said it to the old man with the same calmness as before—no hesitation, no attempt to soften the absurdity. It wasn’t something he needed to hide.

Everyone’s gaze snapped toward him at once, disbelief and bewilderment flashing across their faces.

“…Are you some kind of practitioner?” asked an older man with glasses.

“Well, something like that.”

“Ha! These days, any dog or cow thinks they can—”

Thud!

The wagon jolted violently, cutting the man off. The horses neighed sharply, hooves scraping the ground as the carriage rocked.

“What in the world—?”

When they looked ahead, they saw a crowd gathered down the road, a thick wall of people blocking the way.

For Anagin—who’d lived his whole life in a secluded village—it was an unfamiliar sight. Judging by everyone else’s puzzled expressions, it wasn’t common for them either.

The driver urged the horses to halt and leaned toward a man standing nearby.

“Excuse me, what’s going on up there?”

“You haven’t heard? A massive serpent coiled itself right across the path.”

“A… serpent?”

“That’s right. No one can get through. Even the merchant convoy up ahead’s been stopped—it must be a dangerous beast.”

“Good heavens…”

The old man sighed in dismay.

Following the stranger’s gesture, they saw several freight wagons further down the road. Their handlers were shouting, offering a reward to anyone who could deal with the serpent.

That alone told the story—if merchants, second only to soldiers and mercenaries in power on the road, were offering money instead of handling it themselves, the thing must be truly deadly.

It wasn’t the kind of creature an ordinary man could hope to face.

“...So we just have to get rid of that serpent, right?”

Anagin’s voice came from behind the old man—light, almost casual, as if he were asking about clearing a fallen branch.

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The term 'Yeom' can be changed in the future. I'm open to suggestions that are appropriate for the original Korean term '염'.