ã€ŠThe Prince of False Heavens [Progression Fantasy]ã€‹


 Ch 1 - Boy with No Name

    In the scorching heat of the barren lands of Kastar, a boy pushed a heavy cart forward. His head was shaved, and his body was wasted to the bone, ribs poked through his tattered, ragged clothes. A slave mark marred his chest: a single eye enclosed in a circle. Around his neck was a Brax collar, and rusty iron shackles bound his limbs, biting into his cracked skin.

    The boy had no name.

    His only purpose was to push the carts.

    His back ached, each step sending sharp pain through his bloodied feet. The shackles seared his wrists, peeling off skin with every movement.

    Yet the boy kept pushing.

    ¡°Move faster, you worthless maggots. The great Zaras¡¯th won¡¯t wait for your sloth.¡± barked the overseer, his leather whip cracking against the barren earth. ¡°We don¡¯t have all day.¡±

    The boy flinched instinctively at the sharp crack, though it wasn¡¯t meant for him. He kept his head bowed, his eyes fixed on the cracked ground beneath him.

    Ahead of him, the dirty, bloodied feet of another slave trudged forward, leaving streaks of deep red across the white sand. The man ahead dragged the cart with a pained grunt.

    The whip cracked again, this time followed by a scream of agony.

    The boy didn¡¯t look up. He couldn¡¯t.

    His stomach growled, loud and hollow. The last time he had eaten was two days ago. Water was also scarce. All his parched, cracked lips could taste was the sandy, fiery breeze of Kastar¡ªa kingdom in the great desert of Zaras¡¯th.

    He pushed and pushed until the cart finally stopped in front of a long, flat stone platform. With great struggle, they turned the creaking wooden cart¡¯s back to face the stone platform. The man ahead released the blood-stained handles as the boy quickly stepped out of the way.

    The cart¡¯s handle shot upward as the stone tablets crashed to the hard ground.

    At the sound of the crashing stone tablets, dozens of hollow-eyed slaves shuffled forward. With their bleeding hands, they lifted up the stone tablets, hauling them on their bony backs. They moved like lifeless dolls towards the center to reinforce the second foundation of the monument.

    The grueling exploitation was part of the grand undertaking¡ªthe construction of a monument dedicated to the Zaras¡¯th¡ªthe patron deity of the kingdom¡¯s dominant religion. With the festival in Thal¡¯rasha fast approaching, the noble ruling the city demanded the completion of the monument before the festival, no matter the cost.

    The boy finally lifted his head, stealing a glance as they trudged back to load more stone tablets, his eyes briefly catching the sight of the soldiers. Around the stone platforms, three scores of Kastar soldiers stood watch. Half a dozen overseers roamed the platform, their leather whips cracking sharply.

    A splatter followed by a loud bang rang in the boy¡¯s ears. He looked up, confused, only to see the man ahead of him collapse.

    His head was missing. A jet of red viscous liquid spurted from his neck, staining the white sand crimson.

    It was too sudden.

    The boy froze, his wide eyes locked on the headless body. Then another rock flew past, grazing his cheek before striking a soldier behind him. The rock tore through the man¡¯s chest, leaving a gaping hole as his organs spilled onto the ground.

    Chaos erupted.

    ¡°Bone-eaters!¡± bellowed the captain. ¡°Regroup!¡±

    Slaves scrambled for cover, some tripping over their own shackles. The soldiers formed a defensive line, their shields raised just as another volley of rocks hurtled toward them.

    But to their horror, a massive boulder was hurled at them, easily piercing through their shield wall. Three soldiers were crushed by the impact. Yet the soldiers regrouped, with their shields dented but raised.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    The captain looked horrified at the sight of a scarlet eye peering through the dust clouds.

    It vanished.

    ¡°Good Lord. An Elder bone-eater.¡±

    The captain¡¯s voice quivered in fear. He quickly ducked and whispered urgently to a soldier at the rear. ¡°Fetch Sir Rakel¡ªNOW!¡±

    The soldier nodded and darted away from the back line amidst the chaos.

    Trembling, the boy crouched behind the wooden cart. Blood trickled down his cheek from the graze. His limbs shook as he propped himself. His breath came in shallow gasps as he clung to the wheel, peering out from behind the wooden frame to see the battle.

    Another barrage of small rocks hurtled toward the shield wall. The swirling dust made it nearly impossible to locate the attackers.

    ¡°Hold your line.¡± Barked the captain, scanning the horizon with sharp eyes ¡°Damn those sand-crawling monsters.¡±

    The bone-eaters, with their camouflaged fur and powerful rock-hurling arms that touched the ground, were deadly predators of the desert of Zaras¡¯th. They could launch projectiles with lightning precision.

    A boulder tore through the swirling dust, crashing into the shield wall. Soldiers at the front crumpled under its weight, while shards from splintered shields pierced those behind.

    ¡°Damn it to Zaras¡¯th!¡±

    The captain¡¯s gaze locked onto the Elder bone-eater, grinning from ear to ear, its single scarlet eye twitching with excitement.

    Then it vanished again by the dust clouds.

    ¡°What a tiresome chore,¡± a voice drawled.

    The boy turned to see a man approaching. He wore a straw hat tilted over his face and lightweight armor that shimmered in the sun. His hand rested lazily on the hilt of his sword.

    ¡°Sir Rakel!!¡± exclaimed the captain, relief washing over his face.

    A boulder tore through dust clouds again and hurtled towards Rakel. Before it could reach him, the boulder cleanly split into two with a single motion of his sword. The pieces crashed to the ground as Rakel yawned, unfazed.

    Turning his blade, Rakel swung it forward. The dust clouds parted as a massive shock wave surged through, severing the heads of the bone-eaters in it¡¯s path. Their bloodied carcasses fell.

    The Elder bone-eater, however, survived. Deep wounds marred it¡¯s side, but it stood firm.

    ¡°Oh! An Elder?¡±

    The bloodied creature let out a guttural screech, its single eye fixed on Rakel. Gathering the mangled flesh of it¡¯s fallen kin. It compressed them into a grotesques spherical mass of flesh and bone.

    With a mighty roar, the elder hurled the macabre sphere at Rakel.

    Unimpressed, Rakel swung his sword downwards. The sphere split apart, raining blood and viscera onto the sands.

    In the blink of an eye, Rakel closed the distance between himself and the creature. His blade struck, piercing the elder bone-eater¡¯s heart.

    The Elder Bone-Eater stumbled back, its remaining heart pulsing erratically. As Rakel closed the distance, it lashed out with sharp claws, its arm slicing through the air toward him.

    Rakel sidestepped with ease, his blade flashing in an upward arc. The strike severed the creature''s wrist cleanly, sending the clawed hand spiraling away.

    A screech of agony tore from the bone eater as it recoiled, its gaze fixed on the twitching stump where its hand had been.

    Rage replaced pain in an instant. It roared and swung again, a wild, furious strike.

    ¡°First step,¡± Rakel murmured.

    He vanished, reappearing behind the creature in a blur of motion.

    For a moment, silence hung in the air¡ªthen a crimson line spread across the bone-eater¡¯s neck. Its head tumbled to the ground as blood erupted from the gaping wound, drenching the sand.

    ¡°Weak,¡± Rakel muttered, flicking his blade clean of blood before sheathing it. He knelt, inspecting the severed head and touching it¡¯s sharp canines and sides of the eye.

    ¡°Barely an Elder,¡± he said. ¡°Seems like it ascended only days ago. No wonder it was so pathetic.¡±

    ¡°A proper elder wouldn¡¯t fight like that.¡± He muttered.

    The captain approached cautiously, bowing deeply. ¡°Thank you, Sir Rakel!¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Rakel yawned. ¡°I¡¯m going to sleep now.¡± Without another word, he turned and strode back toward his tent.

    ¡°Understood,¡± the captain saluted. Watching Rakel¡¯s retreating figure, he muttered under his breath, ¡°Squires are different.¡±

    The nameless boy¡¯s jaw dropped after witnessing the fight. It was the first time he had seen a squire or a knight-apprentice fight. The display was mesmerizing, enough that he forgot about his own wounds for a moment.

    For the first time, a flicker of something stirred within him. Not hope, but a strange curiosity¡ªa longing to understand the power he had just seen.

    The captain turned to the remaining soldiers and overseers. ¡°Stop the work for now!¡± he warned sternly. ¡°Clear this mess and investigate.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Captain,¡± the remaining soldiers saluted.

    The boy¡¯s gaze lingered on the fallen bodies of the bone-eaters and the lifeless slaves strewn across the platform. The bodies of dead soldiers were carefully carried away, but those of the slaves were discarded into a pile and burned outside the platform. From afar, the boy watched as the man who had shared his labor was consumed by flames.

    ¡°Move, you wretches,¡± bellowed the overseer. ¡°You are dismissed for the day.¡±

    Yet, no relief graced the faces of those who had survived the attack or those who had watched the carnage from afar. There was no joy, no celebration at the overseer¡¯s words¡ªonly empty stares and broken spirits.

    The crack of leather whips tore through the silence, forcing the slaves to shuffle back toward their quarters¡ªa cramped, suffocating space packed with far more bodies than it was ever meant to hold.

    The boy stayed for a moment, casting a final glance at the smoldering pile of bodies. The stench of burnt flesh and organs clawed at his nostrils, turning his stomach.

    Without a word, he turned and joined the others.

    That day, the boy was reminded of the cruel reality: life was fragile, a flickering flame that could be snuffed out without warning.

 Ch 2 - Name

    The sun sank over the horizon, darkness engulfing the desert as biting winds surged eastward toward the Wurthinne Ocean.

    The camp sprawled across the sands, its bonfires flickering like scattered embers under the growing darkness. Soldiers'' tents were spaced widely, while slave quarters crammed bodies into every available corner.

    Hungry.

    It was the boy''s only thought. His stomach growled.

    He shuffled toward a crowded bonfire, gripping his threadbare rags in a futile attempt to ward off the chill.

    The flames offered little warmth, their crackling taunting the boy¡¯s outstretched fingers. Tonight, there was hope¡ªa rare supper promised to quell the hunger.

    A sharp clang echoed through the air, piercing and metallic. The supper bell.

    A wave of movement surged through the camp as hundreds of slaves rushed toward the sound. The boy followed. The crowd packed tightly together, their bodies pressing against each other, radiating heat and the stench of sweat.

    At the center of the commotion stood large boiling pots of gruel, steam curling upward into the cold night.

    ¡°Quiet, you maggots,¡± barked the overseer, his voice sharp and cruel. He slammed a metal ladle against the pot. ¡°Stand in line!¡±

    Whips cracked in the background, sharp snaps driving the crowd into nervous compliance. The boy scrambled to find his place but was shoved toward the back.

    Not again.

    He clenched his fists, his heart sinking. The last two nights, he had been at the very end of the line, left with nothing but an empty stomach.

    The line inched forward. The boy¡¯s turn came at last. He grabbed a wooden bowl from a nearby table, its surface gritty with sand and the crusted remnants of last night¡¯s meal. He gripped it tightly, ignoring the grime.

    The gruel bubbled in the pot, its smell an unappealing mixture of stale meat, soggy rice, and overcooked vegetables. A soldier ladled out a portion, pouring the steaming sludge into the boy¡¯s bowl.

    The boy didn¡¯t wait. Clutching the bowl like a precious treasure, he hurried to the side, his eyes darting around to ensure no one would snatch it from him.

    Sitting in the sand, he lifted the bowl to his lips. The steam stung his face, and the taste was as awful as he had remembered, but none of it mattered. It was food. And that was enough.

    He ate it all. The boy longed for more, but there was none left.

    Walking back, he noticed a group of children like him, gathered around a frail old man near a small bonfire.

    He recognized the man¡ªthe storyteller.

    Every day, the children would gather to listen to the stories about the Mythical Era from the old man. The old man would narrate the stories vividly, and the children sat mesmerized, with wide eyes reflecting the firelight.

    The boy fidgeted for a moment. He also wanted to listen but didn¡¯t know whether he would be welcome. He always watched from afar.

    Curious.

    He took a step forward toward the dim bonfire. The other children didn¡¯t pay him any heed, engrossed in the tales. He took a seat behind the last kid. The old man noticed him and still went on narrating.

    ¡°It is said,¡± the old man¡¯s voice trembled, ¡°that the Hero Dalius split a part of the continent during his battle with the Demon King. A single strike of his blade severed the land and cast it into the sea.¡±

    ¡°That land,¡± the old man continued, ¡°is now called Zornvuur¡ªa place forged in the fires of battle.¡±

    ¡°You can find statues of Hero Dalius and his three companions in most cities¡ªeven in Kastar,¡± the old man said.

    ¡°Grandpa,¡± a child at the front piped up, ¡°why don¡¯t you ever say the name of the Demon King?¡±

    The old man chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. ¡°Ah¡­ that¡¯s because names are powerful.¡±  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°My grandfather used to say that naming the Demon King¡ªremembering him by name¡ªonly makes him stronger,¡± he continued.

    ¡°But Hero Dalius defeated the Demon King, right?¡± another child asked eagerly.

    ¡°Yes, child,¡± the old man said, patting the boy¡¯s shaved head gently. ¡°It¡¯s faith that keeps him defeated.¡±

    The boy hesitated, his voice faltering. ¡°Um¡­¡±

    All heads turned toward him.

    ¡°Yes?¡± the old man prompted kindly.

    ¡°S-S-So¡­¡± the boy stammered, gripping his tattered rags tightly, ¡°does¡­ does that mean¡­ w-we¡¯re powerless¡­ b-because we d-don¡¯t have names?¡±

    The old man¡¯s eyes widened. For a moment, he was speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

    ¡°Grandpa, can we get names?¡± another child asked hesitantly, breaking the silence.

    The old man¡¯s smile returned, soft and reassuring. He patted the child¡¯s head with a warm laugh. ¡°Of course. Why not?¡±

    Turning to the first child, he said, ¡°You are Alaric now.¡±

    ¡°Alaric?¡± the child repeated. ¡°What does it mean, Grandpa?¡±

    ¡°Ruler of all,¡± the old man said.

    The naming continued, each child stepping forward eagerly. ¡°You are Otto,¡± the old man told one. ¡°And you¡ªBertram.¡±

    The boy stood back, watching intently.

    Name.

    He wanted one.

    He waited patiently, his hands clenched at his sides. Finally, the old man looked at him and gestured. ¡°Come, child.¡±

    The boy trudged forward, his steps hesitant. He fidgeted as he approached, his bare feet shuffling.

    The old man smiled warmly, placing a calloused palm gently on the boy¡¯s shaved head.

    ¡°You are Stark,¡± he said.

    The boy looked right into the eyes of the old man.

    ¡°It means strong.¡±

    He blinked.

    Strong.

    A name that felt so far from his reality yet filled him with hope.

    Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

    He finally had a name. One he could carry with pride.

    Meanwhile, Rakel watched the children from afar briefly before stretching his arms languidly after a deep slumber. He adjusted his straw hat with a yawn, scanning the camp and the vast desert beyond through a sleepy haze.

    To the far west, dotted city lights from Thal¡¯rasha gleamed in the dark. The camp, built around the sacred site of Lestha, stood a few kilometers away from Thal¡¯rasha, where the monument to Zaras¡¯th, the Patron Deity, was slowly taking shape.

    Rakel pondered whether to return to Thal¡¯rasha and report the unexpected and alarming appearance of the Elder Bone-Eater to his superior.

    It was highly unusual, as newly ascended Bone-Eaters rarely sought confrontations, typically retreating into hiding to adapt to their new bodies. The difference between a fledgling Elder Bone-Eater and a True Elder Bone-Eater was immense; the latter would pose a tough challenge even for him.

    I should go. he thought, his gaze lingering on the distant city lights. Better to avoid needless risks!¡¯

    At full speed, he could reach Thal¡¯rasha in minutes.

    Rakel, a squire nearing the rank of knight, had trained relentlessly over the past two years. His strength surpassed most of his peers, and he could already rival the lower-ranking knights of Kastar.

    Taking a stance, he launched forward in a burst of speed. The sand erupted beneath him, and within moments, the camp was far behind.

    Landing lightly on a distant dune, he paused briefly before blasting toward the city, leaving an explosion of sand in his wake.

    Guards patrolled the walls of Thal¡¯rasha, their leitium armor dull but sturdy, and spears gripped tightly as they saw dust clouds approaching in the distance. In seconds, the dust clouds raced to the city gates, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the gate.

    ¡°Rakel! Squire!¡± He called, fumbling through his pockets for the silver badge, and finding it, he tossed it to a soldier atop the enormous gate.

    The soldier caught it deftly, inspecting the emblem of the kingdom and Rakel¡¯s rank engraved at the bottom.

    ¡°Open the gates,¡± the soldier barked.

    Before the gates opened, Rakel dashed up the wall in an instant, snatching his badge from the soldier¡¯s hand. ¡°It¡¯s urgent!¡± he said, disappearing toward the heart of the city.

    Moments later, Rakel arrived at the garrison office in the city¡¯s heart. Elite guards patrolled the perimeter. They instantly recognized Rakel and stepped aside.

    The garrison stretched a vast area, surrounded by barracks, outhouses, and supply warehouses. At the center stood the command building, a two-story structure housing the highest-ranking knights and commanders.

    After completing the formalities, the servants guided Rakel to his superior¡¯s room on the second floor of the command building. An old room with a scent of polished wood and old books. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined both walls, crammed with books and tomes.

    Directly in front of the door, two plush sofas faced each other across a low wooden table. Behind them stood a sturdy desk, papers littered on the surface.

    ¡°Squire Rakel, reporting.¡± Rakel removed his straw hat and bowed slightly to the man seated in the high-backed chair behind the desk. Beyond him, a large window framed the view of the garrison¡¯s gate.

    ¡°Rakel¡­¡± the man muttered, running a hand through his streaked gray hair. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to guard Lestha. Why have you come here?¡±

    ¡°General Koles, eleven Bone-Eaters and a newly ascended Elder Bone-Eater attacked the camp at Lestha,¡± Rakel said.

    Koles¡¯ brow furrowed, his wrinkled face twisting into a scowl. ¡°An Elder Bone-Eater? That¡¯s... unusual.¡±

    ¡°Yes, General. Their behavior is abnormal.¡±

    Koles sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with it. It¡¯s fortunate you¡¯re here; I was about to summon you for another matter.¡±

    Rakel tilted his head in confusion. ¡°Another matter?¡±

    ¡°Ah. Here it is.¡± Koles rummaged through the scattered papers, eventually pulling out a list. ¡°You¡¯ll lead a slave caravan to the Canyon of Dzeth. As for Lestha...¡± He waved dismissively. ¡°I¡¯ll send Esther and Adel to handle it.¡±

    Rakel grabbed the list, folding it neatly and putting it away in his coat.

    He turned on his heel and put his straw hat back on to leave.

    ¡°Ah¡­ I did forget,¡± Koles exclaimed. ¡°Your promotion test will be held in the Capital three months from now.¡±

    Rakel glanced back. ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°There would be squires from the Capital. Do your best.¡±

 Ch 3 - Slave Caravan

    A sharp metallic clang echoed in Stark¡¯s head, growing louder and more unbearable with each passing moment.

    It was the accursed morning bell.

    Grumbling at the grating noise, Stark reluctantly opened his eyes, cramped in the suffocating corner of the overcrowded tent where he had battled the merciless cold all night. He sat up straight, gripping against the tent''s canvas as he struggled to stand. Brax collar clinked as he moved, and his wrists burned where the shackles bit into his skin.

    A slave¡¯s day began early, with only a few precious hours of rest allowed during the night. The desert was still cool from the lingering night breeze as they stirred, the sun yet to rise over the distant horizon.

    Emerging from the tent, Stark was greeted by the distant screams of the overseers.

    ¡°Line up, you godless bastards!¡±

    The slaves shuffled forward, forming several parallel lines. Stark followed the others and found himself at the front of the line. Ahead, a group of overseers stood flanked by several armored Kastar soldiers.

    Stark saw a familiar straw hat peeking from behind the soldiers and overseers. He turned his neck to get a better view. He saw a man leisurely sipping drink from his leather skin bag.

    Stark recognized him.

    <i>It was him¡ªthe man that killed those monsters. </i>

    Beside him stood two figures, a man and a woman clad in similar armor. <i>

    </i>

    <i>Rakel¡ªI think was his name. </i>

    As for others, Stark had no idea.

    Beyond the tents, Ish¡¯raks shifted restlessly. These bipedal creatures, with their grayish scales and elongated necks, bore maws lined with sharp canines. Their muscular legs were built for speed, and atop their heads gleamed a single white horn.

    ¡°The ones I point at, step forward and move to the separate line!¡± barked an overseer, snapping his leather whip.

    The slaves complied in silence, their faces blank with resignation. Overseers moved through the rows, pointing at individuals to separate them.

    ¡°You,¡± one of them snarled, pointing at him.

    Stark hesitated only for a moment before shuffling meekly to the end of the new line. Most of those selected were uninjured slaves. Stark¡¯s stood at the back among them, but he knew why they were separated.

    <i>Another caravan?</i>

    He wasn¡¯t a stranger to slave caravans¡ªthis would be his second. The Kastar rulers frequently transported and traded slaves across the kingdom.

    The Ish¡¯rak carried goods and overseers, but the slaves themselves had to walk, enduring the burning heat of the Zaras¡¯th desert. The longer the journey, the more punishing it became.

    Stark had survived before, but it wasn¡¯t uncommon for slaves to collapse and be discarded along the way.

    ¡°You bastards are being transported to the Canyon of Dzeth!¡± one overseer roared. ¡°Prepare to depart!¡±

    Chains clinked as the slaves were shackled into a single file.

    Stark cast one final glance at the camp as the overseers prodded him forward. He spotted Rakel mounting an Ish¡¯rak alongside other senior soldiers and overseers, each astride their own beast.

    More than two scores of soldiers stood ready to lead the caravan, armed with spears and curved swords at their waists. Stark¡¯s eyes wandered to the piles of supplies strapped to the sides of the Ish¡¯raks. It was clear this journey would be a long one.<i>

    </i>

    <i>The Canyon of Dzeth.</i>

    Stark had never heard of the place. Its name stirred a vague sense of unease, but there was no time to dwell on it. His hands tightened around the cold chain connecting him to the shifty man muttering ahead, forming an unbroken line of prisoners.

    ¡°Devil¡­ Death¡­ Devil¡­ Death¡­¡± he muttered endlessly.

    The sun began to rise minutes into the journey. Stark¡¯s eyes followed the sparse rays as they painted the dunes, turning the cold sand warm beneath his feet. Soldiers on either side kept the slaves in check.

    Ahead, the desert stretched endlessly. Stark shielded his face against the dusty breeze, his eyes narrowing as the wind threatened to blind him.

    Dust storms were frequent in Kastar, swirling tempests that reduced visibility to nothing and brush the skin like needles. Stark had heard of a notorious cluster of these storms along the route to Evont Pass.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Time dragged on. The sun climbed higher. Stark¡¯s feet burned against the sand, his soles red. Skin peeled, blood seeped, yet he held tightly to the hot metal chain.<i>

    </i>

    <i>Survive.</i>

    It was the only thought in his mind, louder than the clinking chains. He refused to be discarded, another nameless body left for the desert beasts.

    His blurred vision caught glimpses of the overseers and Rakel riding their Ish¡¯raks, untouched by the heat. A wave of anger swelled in him, only to be beaten back by his powerlessness.<i>

    </i>

    <i>I survived last time. I won¡¯t die.</i>

    Suddenly, the collar around his neck pulled him back, yanking him off balance. He stumbled and fell onto a sweaty body, narrowly avoiding the scorching sand. The line of slaves had come to an abrupt halt.

    He glanced down. The slave beneath him had collapsed under the sun''s merciless heat. Stark staggered upright, his fellow slaves watching his huffing figure with wide eyes.

    The overseer, noticing the halt, marched forward. Soldiers yanked Stark aside, shoving him roughly into place as they unbuckled the chain from the collapsed man¡¯s Brax collar. Without a word, they connected the chain to the next slave.

    ¡°Remove all his shackles and collar,¡± the overseer ordered coldly. ¡°Toss that filth aside. Let the beasts feast.¡±

    The body was discarded, left for the beasts to feast on. Even in death, cruelty remained for them. Stark¡¯s gaze lingered on the lifeless form before the chain yanked him forward.

    There was no trace of remorse in the overseers¡¯ cold eyes. The soldiers were equally indifferent, and the squire didn¡¯t even spare a glance at the commotion.

    Above, the sun¡¯s flaming disk began its descent westward. The sky, though not night, grew dark with gathering shadows. Winds picked up, fierce, their gusts strong enough to shove the slaves backward. Swirling dust obscured the horizon.

    ¡°Stay close!¡± Rakel roared. ¡°We¡¯re entering the Evont Cluster!¡±

    The slave chain hugged and followed close to the Ish¡¯raks of the overseers. The soldiers closed in on both sides forming a bold line. Stark and the slaves behind him, left dangling like a tail in the back.

    Stark shielded his face with both hands, his eyes narrowing against the swirling dust.

    Squinting ahead, he caught faint glimpses of towering sandstorms spiraling into the sky. Lightning crackled through it, leaving streaks of blue, illuminating the churning walls of brown. The air was dense with floating sand grains, stinging his skin. The storms howled, drowning all sound and swallowing the dim light.

    The Evont Cluster lived up to its reputation¡ªa graveyard for both people and goods. Skeletal remains poked out from the shifting sands, while shattered crates lay half-buried, forgotten relics of doomed caravans.

    ¡°The Devil¡­.is¡­..responsible..Death¡­¡­¡± The man muttered. His voice faintly audible in the roars of the sandstorms.

    <i>Devil? Death? What is he saying?</i> Stark wondered.

    After entering the Evont Cluster, the caravan pressed onward. Thanks to the Squire''s exceptional navigation, they managed to avoid the raging sandstorms.

    But the cluster seemed endless. Stark squinted into the swirling darkness, unable to see any sign of an exit. The sandstorms devoured the remaining light, plunging their surroundings into an suffocating gloom.

    ¡°Light the lamps,¡± Rakel commanded, his voice cutting through the howls. ¡°The Eye is up ahead.¡±

    The sky turned pitch black, an abyss devoid of sparse rays of the sun. Stark could only hear the roars of the storms and the crackling streaks of lightning that occasionally lit the surroundings.

    One by one, small flames flickered to life. Soldiers carried lamps, their light pushing back against the encroaching void. A larger flame lit the path ahead, illuminating the Squire leading the caravan.

    <i>The flames... they''re not being snuffed out by the wind?</i> His thoughts lingered on the unnatural sight.

    Unease gripped Stark¡¯s mind, his body trembling despite the warmth. His heart pounded heavily, his thoughts a chaotic blur of survival. He clutched the chains tightly with skeletal hands turning his knuckles white.

    Death loomed close, its scythe at his throat, ready to claim his soul. Cold sweat trickled down his dusty forehead, leaving a bitter taste on his cracked lips.

    ¡°We are close,¡± Rakel roared. ¡°Don¡¯t get caught by the storms.¡±

    Stark¡¯s eyes darted forward. A faint golden light pierced the  void of the Eye. It shone brightly, growing stronger with each passing moment, breaking through the darkness.<i>

    </i>

    <i>Exit! We are safe</i>. He thought¡ªa faint glimmer of hope.

    But his relief was short-lived. Stark suddenly felt his feet lift off the ground. His body floated, weightless, as a deafening roar erupted behind him. Screams filled the air.

    He turned to see the tail of the slave line being pulled into a swirling storm. The winds howled and closed in, tearing everything in their path.

    ¡°Help me!¡± cried the slave directly behind him, clutching at the chains desperately. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die!¡±

    The line ahead of him began to rise as well, drawn toward the storm¡¯s cavernous maw. Soldiers shouted in panic. Chaos spread through the ranks, but none could find a solution.

    Stark¡¯s gaze shifted forward. Rakel, near the exit of the Eye, stood motionless atop his Ish¡¯rak. The beast¡¯s scaly legs held firm against the storm. Rakel¡¯s straw hat flew off, revealing his windswept brown hair.

    <i>What is he doing? Is he going to abandon us?</i>

    Then, in an instant, Rakel vanished.

    Hope left his eyes.

    He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable. His mind displayed vivid images: A skeletal figure of death with a wide grin pressed it¡¯s scythe against his throat.

    A sharp metallic clang echoed through the storm, followed by a roar. Suddenly, Stark felt the ground beneath him once more.

    Dazed, he opened his eyes to see Rakel standing atop him. The chain behind him was severed, cut cleanly by a blade. The slaves further down the line screamed as they were sucked into the storm, their voices fading into despair. Stark¡¯s eye wide with horror as he witnessed one of them being torn to shreds by the raging winds.

    ¡°Run to the exit!¡± Rakel shouted.

    The panicked soldiers and slaves ran forward towards the exit, Stark was dragged along the sands, giving him no time to stand up.

    The remaining soldiers and slaves bolted forward, driven by fear. Stark was dragged along the sands by the momentum, the rough ground scraping against his skin. He had no time to stand¡ªsurvival was all that mattered now.

    Everyone remaining stumbled out of the Eye, collapsing in exhaustion. Stark was thrown face-first into the white sand, the gritty grains filling his mouth and choking his breath. He coughed violently, spitting out the sand as his hands fumbled to rub the sand from his eyes. His body was battered and bruised, covered in fresh wounds¡ªbut he was alive.

    He had survived the Eye.

 Ch 4 - Rat Knights in Arazan

    A cloaked figure stood atop the guard tower of a desolate noble manor in the capital city of Arazan, Kastar.

    Below, guards lay sprawled across the ground, unconscious, their weapons scattered on the stone pavement. A silvery glow, cast by the split moon, traced a pale path to the manor¡¯s massive wooden door. Above, the stars shimmered faintly, their light struggling against the midnight sky.

    Without a sound, the figure vanished, reappearing at the door in an instant.

    Gripping the scabbard of his sheathed sword, he struck the lock with its hilt, shattering it with a dull clang. Pushing the heavy door open, he stepped into the vast hallway beyond. Ornate portraits of the noble house¡¯s heirs lined the walls.

    Above, a grand chandelier bathed the room in a soft golden glow, its light reflecting off the polished wooden floor. The staircase loomed ahead, splitting into two paths that led in opposite directions.

    "Where is it¡­" he muttered, rummaging through the inner pocket of his cloak. A crumpled note emerged in his gloved hand.

    "Study," he mumbled.

    Scanning the room, he ascended the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. Reaching the study, he pushed open the creaking door.

    Inside, the study was dimly lit, the moonlight spilling through a large window. A towering bookshelf filled with book dominated the right wall. Dust covered the desk in the center, and the room carried a sharp, unpleasant scent of polished wood.

    Approaching the bookshelf, he scanned its shelves, running his fingers along the spines.

    ¡°Did she say the Book of Igon?¡± he muttered, pulling out a few volumes to check.

    A reddish leather hardback gleamed under the moonlight, the word ¡°Igon¡± etched on its spine in biyin, an ancient language of Kastar. His gloved hand brushed off the dust, revealing a distinct symbol of a star encircled by a crescent on the cover.

    Slipping the book into his coat pocket, he turned back to the shelf. Carefully, he selected several books in a specific sequence, their removal triggering a faint tremor in the air. Dust swirled as the room shook lightly. A white glow enveloped the bookshelf, which slid aside with a rumble, revealing a stone staircase spiraling downward. Torches flickered to life along the walls..

    Descending, he entered a long, narrow tunnel. It seemed endless, the torches gradually giving way to glowing white lamps embedded in the walls. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword as his eyes darted around the surroundings.

    ¡°No traps?¡± he muttered suspiciously .

    The lack of resistance in such a place was unsettling.

    At the tunnel¡¯s end stood a metal door secured with a rune-engraved padlock. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a slip of paper inscribed with a similar rune. Placing the paper on the padlock, he watched as it glowed scarlet.

    <b>CLICK.</b>

    The lock clattered to the ground.

    He stepped forward cautiously, the faint crunch of sand beneath his boot breaking the silence.

    The room was pitch black, except for the faint light emanating from the center.

    A faint noise of the wind, close to the left side.

    Straightening his posture, he squinted towards the center. ¡°There it is,¡± he murmured.

    As he approached the pedestal, the air seemed to thicken, pressing against his senses. His fingers lifted the glass container delicately, and he reached for the glowing object within.

    ¡°NOW!¡± A harsh cry shattered the silence, followed by the hiss of blades slicing through the air.

    His instincts kicked in. He flicked the glowing object upward. Sidestepping the incoming slash, he trapped the attacker¡¯s arm, locking it at the joint. With a pivot, he used the momentum to hurl him onto the hard ground.

    The impact reverberated as the attacker hit the surface. His body went limp from the force

    The glowing object arced through the air, spinning. His eyes locked on it, he snatched it mid-fall.

    He smirked. ¡°An ambush?¡±

    The figures in the dark hissed in frustration, their outlines barely visible in the faint light.

    He darted to the left and reached into his cloak. Pulling out a rune-etched paper, he pressed it against the cold stone wall. The rune flared to life, glowing with an crimson hue.

    <b>BOOM!</b>

    The wall erupted outward, shards of stone raining into the courtyard below. Dust and debris filled the air, the roar of the explosion echoing through the hidden chamber. Without hesitation, he vaulted through the opening, landing in a crouch amid the rubble outside.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let him escape!¡± A voice shouted from the darkness.

    He scowled, muttering under his breath, ¡°How did they even find me?¡±

    Pushing off the ground, he dashed toward the manor¡¯s perimeter. Reaching the wall, he leaped high, his fingers gripping the rough edge. Swinging his body upward, he vaulted over to the other side.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Once on solid ground, he crouched low. Power surged, and in a blur, he vanished from sight.

    In the next heartbeat, he was on the rooftop of a nearby building, close to a wide empty stone pavement that went through the street of the noble district.

    Suddenly, something shot toward him at lightning speed. He barely raised his sheathed sword in time as the force struck him like a thunderclap. The impact hurled him off the rooftop, smashing him into the stone wall of a neighboring building. The wall crumbled around him in a cloud of dust and debris.

    ¡°Ho¡­ You managed to block that,¡± came a cold, mocking voice.

    Shaking off the rubble, he brushed debris from his cloak and stepped forward. His sheathed sword remained steady in his grip. Before him stood a knight clad in leitium armor, its surface etched with the emblem of the Order of Juh¡ªone of the most elite and fearsome forces in Kastar.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the welcome,¡± The cloaked man voiced, his eyes fixed on the knight.

    The knight held a slender rapier, its thin blade shining in the moonlight. Flanking him were two others: one armed with a spear, the other with a longsword.

    <i>A Knight and two squires,</i> he noted.

    The knight, unamused, leveled his rapier at him. ¡°Surrender the item you stole, or prepare to die.¡±

    ¡°Nope!¡±

    In a blink, the rapier darted toward him. He leaned just enough to the side, the blade grazing past his cheek.

    The spear-wielder lunged next and jabbed at his neck. He caught the jab edge-to-edge with his blade. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the spear off-center, using the squire¡¯s momentum to force him to stumble forward.

    Before he could reposition, the longsword descended in an arc towards his head. Without missing a beat, he slammed the scabbard against the squire¡¯s grip. The force sent the weapon backward and threw the attacker off balance.

    <i>Three? This is going to be a pa¡ª.</i>

    A sudden gale howled through the air, rushing at him like a blade. His instincts screamed, and he stepped back just in time. The wind slammed into a nearby building, carving a deep gash into its stone wall.

    ¡°Whoa, whoa... you even brought a Magus?¡± his eyes darting upward.

    A figure in dark robes stood on the roof.

    The Rapier Knight spoke again. ¡°Surrender, you slippery maggot.¡±

    ¡°What if I don¡¯t?¡± the cloaked man smirked.

    ¡°I shall take your life.¡±

    He laughed. ¡°You? Are you serious! You can''t even use Aura.¡±

    "Shut up, you thief scum."

    The Rapier Knight tightened his grip and glanced back at the magus, nodding.

    The Magus carved glyphs in the air with his gloved hand. The glyphs floated and glowed in the air.

    Instantly, Five glowing magic circles materialized in the air, hovering side by side. Blades of wind barreled toward the cloaked man. He sidestepped, narrowly dodging as each blade struck the stone pavement, carving deep cuts into the surface.

    Without hesitation, he surged forward, leaping toward the magus. In a flash, his blade arced toward the robed figure¡¯s neck.

    The blow was caught mid-swing, deflected by the knight¡¯s rapier. The force of the parry pushed the cloaked man back slightly. The magus, unfazed, carved <b><i>Ventus Furore</i> </b>again.

    Above him, three more magic circles materialized.

    <i>Damn it.</i>

    He jumped back as a barrage of wind blades descended, tearing into the rooftop and filling the air with smoky debris.

    A sudden jab came from the haze¡ªa spear aimed directly at his head.

    The cloaked man caught the spear under his arm, locking it in place. With a sharp motion, he struck the wooden shaft with his scabbard, shattering it in two.

    The longsword-wielder slashed at his side, and he blocked the blow with blade and scabbard. The scabbard flew off from the impact, and he was pushed back by the force.

    ¡°Whoa, you are strong,¡± he remarked.

    The assault didn¡¯t end. The Rapier Knight closed in and lunged with his weapon.

    The cloaked man sidestepped just enough for the blade to graze his cloak, tearing the fabric as it passed. He trapped the knight¡¯s arm at the joint, twisting to lock the weapon.

    <b>SNAP.</b>

    He broke the knight¡¯s arm at the joint.

    ¡°ARGHHHH!¡± screamed the knight, his arm mangled at an unnatural angle along with his armor.

    The squires, witnessing the scene, widened their eyes. They moved closer to the magus, gripping their weapons tightly.

    <b><i>Geist</i></b> the magus carved with a single flick of his wrist. "Keep your eyes on him." The Magus ordered the squires

    A magic circle materialized shooting at the cloaked man. He kicked the Rapier Knight away and jumped to get away.

    But the magus and the spear man closed the distance in seconds. The splintered spear jabbing at him.

    He dodged the spear but the Magus was already behind him. Carving <b><i>Geist</i></b> behind him.

    This time it hit the target.

    The wind blade sent him flying into a stone chimney on the roof.

    ¡°Hey¡­ come¡­ is this it?¡± The cloaked man got up, dusting the debris off his cloak. He was uninjured.

    His cloak had come off, revealing his dark brown hair fluttering to the side against the dusty wind. His eyes glinted like dark emeralds.

    ¡°Khrn,¡± the magus muttered. ¡°The Fifth Plague¡­¡±

    ¡°Ho, you know of me?¡± Khrn¡¯s grin widened. ¡°I¡¯m honored, magus.¡±

    The longsword-wielder gripped his sword tightly, his gaze fixed on Khrn. His comrade tended to the Rapier Knight.

    ¡°Who¡¯s he?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a high ranking member of the Rat Knights,¡± the magus whispered. ¡°One of the Five Plagues.¡±

    ¡°¡­..Rat¡­knights.¡±

    ¡°Alert¡­don¡¯t drop your guard.¡± The magus warned. ¡°We wait for reinforcements.¡±

    He jumped back to the next building.

    Khrn¡¯s smirk faltered as his skin started to tingle ¡°Tch, playtime¡¯s over.¡±

    Suddenly, the air grew oppressive. The weight shifted, suffocating. A heavy force pressed down on them, as though the very air around them had thickened. The knights¡¯ knees buckled, their bodies refusing to obey. Their breaths came in ragged gasps. The building shuddered under the mounting pressure, the roof tiles cracking beneath the weight.

    The squires and magus were slammed against the roof as if held by an invisible hand.

    <b><i>Schwer</i></b>

    A heavy, unnatural force pressed down. The air itself felt suffocating, thick with weight. The knight''s armor cracked under the pressure, but it was useless.

    With a sickening crack, his head caved in, crushed mercilessly under the force. Blood sprayed, splattering against the stone beneath him. His bones shattered in an instant, the sound lost in the wake of the spell.

    The building itself crumpled into nothingness, collapsing into a massive crater, leaving only a mist of blood hanging in the air.

    A woman floated in the air, clad in a black one-piece dress with layered sleeves. She held a black parasol, her long black hair and eyes shimmering in the moonlight. A pale scar stretched straight from the edge of her lips to her brow.

    "You waste time, You pathetic worm." The woman spat.

    ¡°Worm?¡± Khrn chuckled.

    "Why didn''t you use Aura? Could have finished them in seconds."

    "Eh!! I didn''t feel like it," Khrn pouted. "I wanted to stall time to fight an Sword''s master."

    "Ugh..." She rolled her eyes. "Pathetic."

    ¡°Scar, you''re as cold as ever. Did you come to rescue me?¡± He smirked at her.

    She was the second Plague¡ªScar.

    ¡°Silence,¡± Scar scowled. ¡°The leader has summoned us. All five of us are expected to be there.¡±

    Khrn''s smirk vanished. ¡°Alright, I give up.¡±

    He sighed, patting his cloak¡¯s inner pocket. ¡°I got the item, by the way.¡±

    Scar barely acknowledged his words with a disdainful look. She carved a purple glyph in the air.

    There was no magic circle forming like the Magus. The air grew heavy, and an opening formed, slicing through space to create a pulsating crevice.

    Without hesitation, Scar touched the crevice, and Khrn followed.

    A gust of cold wind swept them in, and in a flash of violet light, they vanished from the city of Arazan.

 Ch 5 -Ambush

    The caravan stopped by and restocked supplies at Evont Pass¡ªa narrow strip of road carved towards the Plateau in the desert of Zaras¡¯th. Flanked by jagged cliffs, the pass was heavily guarded by knights and soldiers. Two towers looked over the dusty road.

    Stark had been treated with crude first-aid for his bruises, a luxury he didn¡¯t expect but could understand. Too many slaves had succumbed to the journey¡¯s hardships, and losing more could land the soldiers and Rakel in trouble.

    That was yesterday.

    Now they were far from the path in the never ending great desert. Dunes of sands stretched across the horizon.

    With Each step, He winced.

    The hot air stung his bruised skin.

    There was a dusty wind occasionally.

    Ahead, something caught his eye¡ªa shimmering white structure that seemed to float in the heat.

    Narrowing his eyes, he muttered under his breath, "What¡¯s that?¡±

    As they drew closer, the vision sharpened. A large white tent rose above the sands, surrounded by a cluster of smaller, ones. Ish¡¯raks lounged in the sun, while scarfed men busily loaded goods.

    Armed men patrolled the perimeter, their gazes sharp and fixed on the approaching caravan.

    The caravan shifted course, steering away from the camp. Stark glanced back at the soldiers near the tents. Their armor marked with an emblem of a snarling wolf.

    "Who are they?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the clinking of chains.

    A sudden yank pulled him forward, and the camp disappeared into the swirling dust.

    So many questions arose in his mind regarding the camp.

    <i>Why were they in that location, and what were the goods? Why did the soldiers ignore them completely </i>

    Stark''s mind raced, the questions filled his mind as if to drown out the ache of his suffering. <i>

    </i>

    <i>What is true freedom? </i>He wondered.

    From the past filled with abuse and slavery, to his present as a teen still bound by chains, Stark had never dared to dream of freedom. Survival was all he had ever known.

    Stark trudged forward. He was at the end of the line. The man ahead of him muttered ceaselessly under his breath,

    ¡°Devil¡­ Devil¡­¡± the man whispered, his words rising and falling like a chant.

    Stark guessed the man had gone mad after learning about their destination. The muttering got on his nerves, but he forced himself to block it out. He couldn¡¯t waste energy on someone else¡¯s despair¡ªhis own thoughts were heavy enough.

    Lost in his mind, Stark clung to the story of Hero Dalius, the legendary warrior who had vanquished the Demon King. The tale fascinated him. <i>If I became strong¡­ strong like Dalius¡­ could I escape this wretched life?</i>

    The desert stretched endlessly around him. For most of his life, Stark had toiled in this arid wasteland, the sand and sun. He was sick of it¡ªsick of the endless dunes and the scorching heat.

    Yet, amidst his misery, a fragment of a memory surfaced. He remembered a grass field, its blades swaying gently in the breeze. In the center stood a tiny house, warm and inviting. The image was soothing, but beyond it, everything was hazy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn¡¯t remember more.

    The next thing he vividly recalled was waking up on a ship bound for Kastar, his wrists bound in chains. The soft green of the grass field had vanished, replaced by the creak of wooden planks and the salty sting of ocean air.

    Stark¡¯s gaze drifted to the Squire leading the caravan. A strange unease settled over him, prickling at the edges of his senses. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the horizon. For a moment, he swore the sand moved¡ªrippling like a living thing.

    He blinked a couple of times and looked again.

    <i>What was that?</i> He thought.

    He glanced at the Squire but no one seemed to notice

    <i>Was it just me? Maybe it¡¯s the heat.

    </i>

    Stark looked ahead, dismissing the thoughts. According to the conversation he heard from the soldiers yesterday. It would take the caravan 3 days to reach the Canyon of Dzeth¡ªthe location of his next job.

    There was a slight problem, to reach the Canyon, they had to cross the Fool¡¯s sand.

    He had no information about the fool¡¯s sand¡ªin fact he never heard of that place in his life. From the looks on the soldier¡¯s face, stark didn¡¯t expect it to be cozy. It would be like the Evont cluster if not worse.

    Suddenly, the caravan came to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Stark glanced around, his brow furrowed. The dunes stretched endlessly. Only the wind stirred, swirling dust into their faces.

    A sharp scream shattered the uneasy calm.

    ¡°ARGHHHHHH!¡±

    The sound tore through the air, followed by a sickening splatter.

    Ahead, the slaves began to panic. Stark¡¯s gaze snapped forward. Something was falling from above. Instinctively, he stretched out his hand, letting the droplets hit his palm.

    It was warm. Sticky.

    <i>Blood.</i>

    Chaos erupted.

    Slaves screamed, pulling at their bindings as the dust began to settle. Stark¡¯s chest tightened. His vision cleared just enough to make out the scene ahead¡ªand his blood ran cold.

    They were surrounded by bone-eaters.

    ¡°DEVIL... DEVIL... IT¡¯S THE DEVIL¡¯S DOING!¡± screamed the man in front. He clawed at his shaved head, leaving bloody streaks as his nails dug into his scalp.

    Blood trickled down his face, but his wild eyes seemed oblivious to the pain.

    Stark ignored him, his thoughts fixed on survival. His gaze turned to Squire Rakel, perched atop his Ish¡¯rak.

    Rakel stood for a moment, his back to the caravan. Then, with a blur of movement too fast to follow, he vanished.

    Three Bone-eaters fell. Their heads hit the ground with dull thuds, staining the sand crimson.

    "REGROUP! SHIELDS UP!¡± Rakel¡¯s voice thundered above the clamor, commanding immediate attention.

    The soldiers shook off their panic. They scrambled into a tight formation, shields locking together as they braced for the next assault.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Stark stood frozen in plain sight. The Bone-eaters'' screeches pierced the air, sending shivers down his spine. He tugged futilely at the chains binding him. There was nowhere to run, no shelter to hide behind¡ªonly the endless sands.

    He had seen the creatures¡¯ brutality before. Their  projectiles ripped through flesh with ease, leaving only mangled bodies in their wake.

    Fortunately, their attention was fixed on the soldiers and the squire up ahead. Clashes erupted.

    ¡°Hold the line! Take them out!¡± Rakel ordered as he killed another bone-eater.

    The soldiers struggled to obey, their formation breaking as swirling winds churned up dust. The haze provided perfect cover for the Bone-eaters, who emerged briefly to hurl rocks before disappearing again.

    One projectile struck a slave nearby, tearing through his chest. Blood sprayed across the sand, and the man collapsed without a sound.

    Stark winced, his breath catching in his throat.

    Panic rippled through the line of slaves. Those at the front screamed and pulled against their chains, desperate to escape, but the metal bonds held fast. The sound of rattling metal mixed with cries of terror as the Bone-eaters killed.

    he knew there was no escape¡ªonly survival, if luck would grant him that mercy.

    Soldiers fell one after another. Bone-eater¡¯s projectiles tore through the shield wall, striking men with devastating force. A soldier near Stark collapsed, his chest caved in, blood pooling in the sand as his lifeless body slumped. Another''s head burst with a sickening crack, spraying the ground with crimson.

    Rakel fought, slashing down bone-eaters on his side. But these creatures used the  sands as cover, vanishing after each attack, forcing him to face them one by one.

    Stark¡¯s chest heaved as his gaze darted from one horror to another. The soldiers were being pushed back, their formations crumbling. His heart pounded as though it might burst. His thoughts spiraled.

    <i>What do I do?¡­¡­¡­What..Why¡­.

    </i>

    <i>I don¡¯t want to die!</i>

    Then, the worst happened. A massive boulder ripped through the haze, crashing into the shield wall. It hit with the force of a god¡¯s hammer, splitting the line apart. Soldiers were flung like rag dolls, their bodies crushed, blood staining the sands.

    Stark stumbled forward as the chain yanked him. He fell hard, the taste of iron filling his mouth as he hit the ground. Around him, the front line of slaves was obliterated, their crushed remains scattered in the sands.

    The chain snapped, leaving only Stark and the crazed, muttering man alone.

    "It¡¯s an Elder!¡± Rakel¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°Regroup. I¡¯ll handle it.¡±

    He moved in a blur. The Elder Bone-eater vanished into the haze just as quickly, a wide, mocking grin plastered across its face.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Rakel snarled. ¡°You fucking ape!¡± He spat the words like venom, his eyes scanning the swirling dust.

    ¡°Duck!¡± he barked.

    Stark dropped low, pressing himself against the sands. The crazed man was already on the ground beside him and ripping his scalp in fear.

    Rakel took a low stance, his muscles coiling to strike. ¡°Second Step,¡± he murmured.

    A shock wave tore through the desert as the sand clouds split into a perfect circle, revealing the scattered Bone-eaters.

    ¡°Third Step.¡±

    In a flash, Rakel paced ahead, his blade moved swiftly as he cut down every Bone-eater in his path. Blood sprayed in arcs, staining the sands red.

    But then, his momentum faltered.

    A massive figure stepped into his path, towering over the battlefield. Rakel¡¯s blade met its mark, only to stop cold against a thick arm. The Elder Bone-eater grinned. With a screech, it grabbed Rakel¡¯s arm and hurled him through the air.

    Rakel crashed into the sand dune hundreds of feet away.

    The creature turned, its massive jaws opening to reveal dagger-like canines. This was no fledgling¡ªit was a true Elder Bone-eater.

    The soldiers were gasping for air, their armor stained with blood.

    Only a handful remained, forming a feeble line at the front.

    Desperately, they fought to hold back the Bone-eaters, but the creatures tore through the defenders.

    The front line was gone.

    Stark stumbled backward, dragging the muttering man along with him. He was bound to the crazy man.

    ¡°Devil¡­ Devil¡­¡± the man chanted, his bloodied fingers clawing at his scalp.

    ¡°Shut up, you bastard!¡± Stark spat.

    <i>Fuck! Fuck! I have to get out of here.</i>

    Adrenaline surged through his veins as he scanned the battlefield.

    The Bone-eaters, distracted by the slaughter ahead, seemed oblivious to him¡ªfor now. Stark¡¯s heart pounded.

    <i>Slowly¡­.Slow.</i>. He inched back away.

    But his luck didn¡¯t last.

    One by one, the creatures turned. Their mocking grins stretched wide as their eye locked onto him.

    Stark froze, his breath caught in his throat. Time seemed to slow as he watched their hands grasping rocks.

    The crazy man continued his chant, oblivious to the danger.

    ¡°No! No! I don¡¯t want to die! Someone¡­ anyone¡­¡± Stark¡¯s voice cracked as panic consumed him.

    Just as the Bone-eaters raised their elongated arms to throw, a glimmer of steel flashed in the air. Their heads rolled cleanly to the ground.

    ¡°Fucking apes,¡± Rakel muttered, his face caked in blood, a gash on his forehead. He turned his focus to the Elder Bone-eater, standing tall and unyielding.

    Without hesitation, Rakel charged.

    <b>CLANG! </b>

    The metallic ring of his blade striking the Elder¡¯s arm echoed through the chaos. The camouflage and distance advantage were gone, but it adapted quickly, its elongated arms flexing like whips to block Rakel¡¯s strikes.

    Stark stumbled backward, dragging the murmuring man with him. His gaze remained fixed on the fight. Around him, only death and destruction remained¡ªevery other soldier and slave lay lifeless on the sand.

    The Elder dodged Rakel¡¯s next attack. It kicked up sand and used the bodies of its kin as shields. Rakel¡¯s blade blurred as it deflected incoming projectiles and carved deep wounds into the Elder¡¯s flesh. Blood sprayed with every strike.

    Stark couldn¡¯t follow their movements anymore; they were too fast.

    Suddenly, Rakel lunged with a deadly stab. The Elder sidestepped, its arm coiling around Rakel¡¯s like a serpent. With a growl, it shifted its weight and hurled him into the air. Rakel slammed into the ground with a sickening thud, sand puffing up around him.

    "ARGHH!!" Rakel screamed.

    The Elder wasted no time, grabbing a boulder from the ground.

    ¡°HOW DARE YOU!¡± Rakel roared, staggering to his feet. One eye was swollen shut, and blood dripped from countless wounds. He shifted course toward Stark, using the Elder¡¯s blind spot to gain an advantage.

    The Elder grinned maliciously and hurled the boulder, its aim flawless.

    Rakel had no choice but to face it head-on.

    With a roar, he swung his blade. The boulder split in two, fragments scattering across the battlefield.

    Stark flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

    The ground shook, and sand rained over him.

    I¡¯m safe¡­ he thought with relief. But something warm and sticky coated his side. A lone shard had taken his arm away.

    Shivering, he turned his head. His stomach dropped.

    His arm was gone. Blood gushed from the shoulder.

    ¡°ARGHHHHHH!¡± Stark screamed, his voice raw with agony.

    Tears blurred his vision as he clutched at the bleeding wound. ¡°No! No! Why¡­?¡±

    Through the pain, he gritted his teeth and watched Rakel charging again. The Squire dodged the Elder¡¯s swing, his blade flashing as it severed the creature¡¯s forearm.

    With a screech, the Elder became frenzied, attacking savagely. Wounds mounted on both sides.

    He severed its other arm and, with a final leap, drove his sword into the creature¡¯s single scarlet eye.

    The Elder collapsed with a guttural howl.

    ¡°DIE!¡± Rakel screamed, slashing its head clean from its shoulders. The massive body slumped, lifeless, into the blood-soaked sand.

    Stark winced in pain, his breath ragged. Somehow, he had survived the attack, chained to the crazed man who still muttered incoherently.

    His gaze locked on Squire Rakel, who was struggling to rise. The Elder Bone-eater lay dead in the sand, its severed head resting near its body.

    <i>Yes... I survived¡­</i> Stark thought.

    Rakel huffed, planting his bloodied sword into the sand for support. ¡°Why... Why is an Elder Bone-eater on this route? It was supposed... to be... safe,¡± his voice faltering.

    Behind him, the sand shifted. Stark¡¯s eyes widened as he saw the grains cascade off something massive. Another Elder Bone-eater emerged, its mouth stretching into a sinister grin.<i>

    </i>

    <i>No¡­</i>

    The creature moved with terrifying speed. Its arm swung in a blur.

    ¡°move!¡± Stark¡¯s voice caught in his throat.

    But it was too late.

    The blow struck Rakel, severing his body cleanly at the waist. His upper half was flung into the air before landing lifelessly in the sand.

    Stark froze in horror, his body trembling. The strongest among them had fallen, and now the creature¡¯s mocking gaze turned to him.

    <i>No¡­ No¡­ I have to run... I don¡¯t want to die!</i>

    He crawled backward, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The chain binding him jerked, stopping his retreat. The crazed man lay sprawled on the sand, still chanting incoherently.

    ¡°Yo...u... Bastard,¡± Stark choked, his voice trembling as he grabbed the chain. ¡°Get up... Get up!¡±

    The Bone-eater took a step forward, its grin widening. Stark¡¯s heart pounded in his chest.

    <i>I want to live...

    </i>

    Blood soaked Stark¡¯s side, seeping from the shoulder. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his vision blurred. The Bone-eater inched closer. Stark clawed at the sand, trying to drag himself away, but his strength was failing. The world around him dimmed, a haze of pain and fear engulfing him.

    Suddenly, the crazed man sprang to his feet, his voice a wretched scream that pierced the chaos.

    ¡°DEVIL! IT¡¯S THE DEVIL... NO¡ª¡±

    The Bone-eater¡¯s hand shot forward, gripping the man¡¯s head. With a crunch, it crushed his skull. Blood splattered across the sand, mingling with fragments of bone and brain matter.

    ¡°DON¡¯T COME CLOSE!¡± Stark screamed, his strength nearly spent.

    The Bone-eater raised its head to strike when¡ª

    A dark beam of light erupted through the air, striking the Bone-eater¡¯s head. The creature froze. A gaping hole burned through its skull, and its body remained standing for a moment before beginning to crumble. Purple ash consumed its form, scattering in the wind dissolving into nothingness.

    Stark¡¯s breath hitched as his fading eyes searched for the source. A  figure floated above. Its golden eyes shimmered like molten lava, and a purple flame danced in its hand.

    <i>Who...</i>

    Before he could finish the thought, darkness claimed him.

 Ch 6 - Devil of Kastar

    Stark stood in an endless expanse of water, the horizon stretching

    infinitely in all directions. The surface was unnervingly still,

    mirroring the vast, clear sky above. When he looked down, his

    reflection stared back¡ªwhole.

    He flexed his arm, the one the bone eater had severed. It was there,

    as though the wound had never existed. His skin was unscarred, his

    body whole.

    He took a step. The water rippled beneath his feet with a soft sound.

    He could walk.

    Stark ventured forward, his eyes scanning the horizon, but there was

    no end in sight. The water and sky seemed to merge into one.

    <i>

    What is this place? Why am I here?</i>

    Fragments of memory came to him: the Elder Bone-eater, a beam of

    light, ash scattering into the wind. But beyond that, his mind was

    blank.

    <i>

    Is this death?

    </i>

    He tried to speak, to give voice to his thoughts, but no sound came.

    His lips moved, forming the words.

    <i>

    I can¡¯t speak?</i>

    A chill crept through him as he continued walking. His steps sent

    ripples across the water, but the sound was swallowed almost

    instantly, leaving the world eerily calm once more.

    Stark walked. And walked. Time seemed to stretch. The only sound was

    the faint ripple of water beneath his feet, the only sight¡ªthe

    concentric waves spreading out with every step.

    The silence pressed heavily around him.

    Then, in the distance, a door.

    It stood alone, white against the endless horizon. There was no

    frame, no walls¡ªjust the door, solitary. It gleamed faintly, almost

    inviting.

    <i>

    What is this?</i>

    Curiosity and unease within him as he approached. Finally, he reached

    out towards the cold, smooth knob.

    As soon as he turned it, the world shifted.

    The boundless expanse dissolved in an instant, collapsing into

    blinding white light. Stark staggered, blinking as his surroundings

    reformed into a white room. The door he had reached for was gone; it vanished without a trace.

    The room was silent, featureless, and suffocatingly bright. He spun

    around, searching for any sign of the door or an exit, but there was

    nothing.

    <i>

    Where am I?</i>

    Stark glanced down. His heart pounded as he looked up, only to see a

    large, dark metal gate materialize before him.

    It was unlike anything he had ever seen¡ªa dark, ominous structure

    bound by rusted chains and talismans that pulsed faintly with an

    eerie glow. The gate felt almost alive.

    Yet, despite its menacing appearance, something about it beckoned

    him. His body moved against his will, drawn toward it as though an

    invisible force compelled him.

    He stepped closer.

    As he neared, the gate''s surface began to ripple like liquid, and

    suddenly, an enormous eye snapped open in its center, glowing a

    malevolent purple. Stark froze, terror rooting him in place.

    From the gate, smoky tendrils shot out, claw-like hands forming at

    their tips. They twisted in the air before latching onto him.

    Stark struggled to break free, but the hands tightened their grip,

    pulling him toward the gate. The chains rattled ominously, and the

    talismans glowed as the gate creaked open.

    Darkness spilled out, thick and suffocating, dragging Stark toward

    its abyss.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    <i>

    No¡­.No¡­..!</i>

    He thrashed wildly, but it was no use. The hands pulled harder. Just

    as he teetered on the edge, a blinding light erupted from nowhere,

    forming a barrier between him and the gate.

    The smoky hands recoiled, severing with a hiss. The eye in the gate

    blinked once before the entire structure shuddered violently. Cracks

    began to splinter through the walls of the white room.

    The ground gave way beneath Stark¡¯s feet, and he plummeted into a

    gaping void of darkness.

    "No!"

    Stark''s eyes shot open abruptly, his chest heaving as he struggled to

    catch his breath. Sweat trickled down his face.

    The rough brown texture of a stone ceiling greeted him, the haunting

    image of the void and door fading.

    He winced as he tried to sit up, his muscles screaming. Stark glanced

    at his arms. Both were there.

    His left arm, which had been severed, was wrapped in cloth and

    securely attached to his shoulder.

    <i>

    What? That can¡¯t be right!</i> His mind raced.<i> I¡¯m sure my arm was

    gone!</i>

    Stark scanned his surroundings. He appeared to be in a cave. A coarse

    blanket covered his body, and he realized he was naked beneath it.

    Pain flared through him. He clenched his teeth.

    "Awake, are you? Human child."

    The unfamiliar voice sent a shiver down Stark''s spine.

    Standing a few feet away was a man¡ªor something close to one. His

    skin was a deep, unnatural bluish hue with intricate patterns on his

    forearms. He wore a simple half-sleeve tunic and loose pants, but his

    appearance was anything but ordinary.

    Two curved horns poked out from his skull. Long silver hair cascaded

    over his shoulders.

    The man held a bowl in his hand, tilting it slightly as he studied

    him.

    Stark''s breath caught, his heart pounded. <i>Who¡ªor what¡ªis this?</i>

    ¡°Here, human child. Eat this.¡± The man extended a wooden bowl

    toward Stark.

    Stark peered into the bowl. It was a stew, its aroma rich¡ªnothing

    like the stale gruel he had been forced to endure in the slave camp.

    ¡°W-¡­¡± His voice cracked, barely audible. Fear gripped him, but

    something about the man¡¯s calm demeanor suggested he wasn¡¯t a

    threat.

    ¡°Do not speak, human child,¡± the man said, his voice carrying an

    ancient tone ¡°Your body was on death¡¯s edge when I found you.¡±

    The man placed the bowl on the ground before continuing, ¡°This is

    Ish¡¯rak meat stew. I found the creatures dead beside you.¡±

    Stark blinked. <i>Ish¡¯rak? Those beasts?</i>

    Without another word, the man turned and walked out of the room.

    Alone, Stark reached for the bowl. He hesitated, sniffing the stew

    cautiously.

    <i>

    This or nothing</i>, he thought grimly.

    With a resigned sigh, Stark closed his eyes. The sip flooded his

    senses with warmth and flavor, unlike anything he¡¯d tasted before.

    His body, starved, demanded more, and he drank the whole stew.

    <i>

    Who is that man? </i>Stark thought. <i>Is this the devil that the crazy man was chanting about?

    </i>

    He had no idea what a devil was supposed to look like. The stories

    he¡¯d heard back at the camp were vague at best¡ªwhispers of an

    unbelievably strong and dangerous being meant to terrify.

    The man entered again, this time carrying some clothes.

    ¡°Here, human child. Wear this.¡± He tossed them towards Stark, his

    face devoid of emotion.

    Stark hesitated. ¡°U¡­Um¡­ Who are you?¡± he asked nervously.

    "You... don¡¯t know who I am?¡± The man¡¯s blank stare lingered

    as Stark awkwardly began dressing himself in the loose-fitting

    clothes, which resembled the man¡¯s own.

    "No... Should I?¡± Stark replied cautiously.

    ¡°My name is Krul... also known as the Devil of Kastar.¡±

    Krul studied him, waiting for the reaction¡ªfear, panic. To his

    surprise, Stark simply tilted his head, confusion etched on his face.

    ¡°The Devil of Kastar?¡± he echoed.

    During his time in Kastar, Stark had heard the name only a handful of

    times. It was the kind of tale used to frighten children¡ªa bedtime

    story. He¡¯d never thought it could be real. And now, here he was,

    face-to-face with the very devil in question.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Krul said, breaking the silence. ¡°It seems you have

    no idea who I am, human child.¡±

    Stark shifted uneasily. ¡°Where am I?¡± he asked, still cautious.

    Sensing his wariness, Krul assured. ¡°You are safe. This is my home,

    hidden within the great sands.¡± He spoke with pride,

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Stark muttered, unsure how to respond.

    ¡°Do you have a name, child?¡± Krul asked after a moment.

    ¡°Um¡­ Yes, my name is Stark,¡± he said. ¡°And I¡¯ve been

    wondering for a while now... how am I still alive?¡±

    Krul frowned slightly, as if puzzled by the question. ¡°You are

    alive because I saved you. When I found you, you were barely clinging

    to life. It took time, but I patched you up.¡±

    ¡°What about the others?¡± Stark asked hesitantly.

    ¡°The others were already dead when I arrived.¡±

    Stark¡¯s gaze fell to his arm, now wrapped in cloth. He hesitated

    before asking, "My... arm?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that,¡± Krul said, glancing at it. ¡°Your arm was severed

    and beyond saving. It couldn¡¯t be reattached.¡±

    ¡°So I thought, why not craft a new arm using my cells and fuse it to your body?¡±

    Krul explained, scratching his chin.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Stark stared at him, struggling to comprehend. ¡°What?

    How is that even possible?¡±

    ¡°With magic, child,¡± Krul replied with a smirk. ¡°Your arm was

    beyond saving, so I fused my cells with mana to craft you a new one.¡±

    He paused, as if recalling the process. ¡°It wasn¡¯t simple,

    though. Replicating flesh to match your body took time¡ªand more

    mana than I expected.¡±

    Stark blinked. "You... made me a new arm?¡±

    Krul nodded. ¡°Yes. It was my first time attempting something like

    this.¡±

    ¡°Quite the experiment, I say. But now I know: It takes a ridiculous

    amount of mana and high-grade cells to succeed.¡±

    Stark had met someone crazy.

 Chapter 7 - Krul

    Days

    passed, and Stark¡¯s body slowly began to recover. Krul, the devil

    who had saved him, provided ample, nutritious food¡ªthe first time

    Stark had ever experienced such care. His once malnourished body was

    regaining strength.

    But

    rest didn¡¯t

    come easy. Night after night, the bone-eaters haunted his dreams.

    Their faces and attacks replayed in his mind, leaving him drenched in

    cold sweat. Sleep deprivation became a norm.

    Stark

    tried to adapt, forcing himself to push through, but the toll on his

    psyche was undeniable. The silent interactions with Krul only added

    to his unease. They barely spoke.

    Krul

    would simply watch him from afar.

    <i>Why

    did he save me? I can</i><i>¡¯t

    read him. </i>He

    thought.

    Stark could feel that the devil was powerful, far beyond anything Stark had ever

    witnessed.

    Krul

    entered the room again, carrying a bowl of steaming stew. It had

    become a daily ritual¡ªfresh meals brought to him without fail.

    Stark couldn¡¯t

    help but wonder how Krul managed it, given he rarely left the cave.

    ¡°Um¡­.How

    do you get food?¡± He asked awkwardly.

    Krul

    paused, his expression briefly puzzled. ¡°I

    hunt,¡± he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in

    the world.

    Stark

    drained his bowl of stew, savoring it¡¯s

    warmth.

    ¡°Tasty.¡±

    He muttered.

    He

    stared at Krul.

    ¡°You

    need something? Child!¡±

    ¡°Why

    did you save me?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡­.¡±

    A

    heavy silence filled the room. Krul didn¡¯t

    answer immediately

    ¡°On

    a whim,¡± Krul finally said. ¡°I was passing by.¡±

    Time

    passed, and Stark recovered faster than he expected. He could now

    walk and even exercise, though his nights remained restless. The

    nightmares refused to fade¡ªcreepy doors, smoky hands, and the

    grotesque faces of the bone-eaters haunted his sleep, replaying in an

    endless loop.

    His

    days were monotonous. His mind was thinking about the story of the hero Dalius that saved the continent. Stark had

    been fascinated by strength. He recalled the first time he saw

    Rakel fight; it was mesmerizing. Power beckoned him, not just for its

    allure but for the freedom.

    He

    absently-mindedly  rubbed his chest, where the slave mark still remained. For

    the past few days, his only task was to observe Krul. The devil led

    an oddly mundane life¡ªreading books, hunting, and cooking.

    Despite

    their differences, Stark began speaking with Krul, their

    conversations growing more frequent. Slowly, a bond started to form

    between them.

    ¡°I¡¯m

    feeling good now,¡± Stark muttered one day as he stretched. His

    bandages slipped off, revealing the new arm. It looked identical to

    the other, moving without pain or stiffness.

    <i>It</i><i>¡¯s

    like my arm was never severed. </i>

    Stark

    got up to find Krul.

    The

    cave was a network of interconnected spaces like an ant colony. There

    were many spaces but a handful were in use by the devil.

    Curious,

    he wandered into Krul¡¯s

    study. Shelves packed with books close to the muddy wall, and the

    table was scattered with papers marked with strange and intricate

    patterns. Stark frowned at the incomprehensible symbols and words¡ªhe

    had never learned to read or write.

    Krul

    wasn¡¯t

    there. Stark searched until he found the devil reclining on his bed,

    engrossed in a book. Krul glanced up as Stark entered.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I

    think I¡¯ve recovered,¡± Stark said, standing straighter.

    ¡°Is

    that so?¡± Krul replied,

    ¡°How

    can I repay you?¡± Stark asked hesitantly.

    ¡°Repay

    me? ¡± He blinked twice.

    ¡°I

    mean it. I¡¯ll do anything to repay you for saving my life.¡±

    "Are you serious?" He scoffed.

    Krul

    clicked his tongue, setting the book aside. ¡°Anything?

    You¡¯re weak. What use is a feeble child?¡±

    ¡°What

    if I become strong?¡± Stark pressed. ¡°Would that be enough to repay me?¡±

    Silence

    filled the room. Krul studied him, an unreadable expression on his

    face.

    The

    devil had saved his life¡ªa slave¡¯s

    life, something most would discard without a second thought.

    ¡°Hm...

    You, strong?¡± Krul asked, exhaling deeply.

    Stark

    hesitated. ¡°I...

    I know I¡¯m weak. And just a slave...¡± He lowered his voice,

    glancing at the floor. ¡°But I want to be free. I want to be strong,

    like you.¡±

    Krul

    raised an eyebrow. ¡°Free?

    Do you think strength grants freedom?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t

    it?¡± Stark asked cautiously.

    Krul

    leaned back, considering. ¡°Perhaps.

    Who can say?¡±

    ¡°So...

    can I become strong like you?¡± Stark pressed.

    Krul

    didn¡¯t

    respond immediately. Instead, he countered with a question of his

    own. ¡°What is freedom to you?¡±

    Stark

    opened his mouth but faltered. ¡°I...

    I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Krul

    pressed on. ¡°Then

    how do you expect to find it? Strength without an aim is useless.¡±

    ¡°But

    why¡­.I just want to escape this life...¡± Stark said. ¡°Isn¡¯t

    that enough?¡±

    ¡°Escape

    and then what?¡±

    ¡°I...I want to see the world.¡±

    Krul

    stood and placed a hand on Stark¡¯s

    head, ruffling the hair that had started to grow back.

    ¡°A

    traveler, perhaps a wanderer?¡± Krul raised his brow. ¡°Is that

    your wish, Child?¡±

    The

    thought of traveling definitely filled him with excitement. Although  he needed strength to accomplish that desire as well.

    ¡°Maybe... but I do wish to travel and see beautiful places.¡±

    ¡°The

    answer to your question is no." Krul¡¯s answer cut through Stark¡¯s hope like a

    blade.

    Stark

    blinked, his chest tightening. ¡°Why

    not?¡±

    Krul

    sighed, folding his arms. ¡°I

    examined your body while healing you. You don¡¯t have a mana core,

    which means you cannot use magic spells.¡±

    The

    words struck Stark like a physical blow, and his expression darkened.

    ¡°Never?¡±

    ¡°Never,

    at least like me.¡± Krul confirmed, though his tone softened

    slightly. ¡°But... there may be other paths. You might have the

    potential of a knight. Aura or martial arts could be within your

    reach, though I can¡¯t test that.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Worth a try,

    eh?¡±

    <i>It</i><i>¡¯s

    odd that this child hasn¡¯t gotten a core itself. </i>Krul thought. <i>Since the Mythical Era ended, the continent has been filled with the Mana. </i>

    Krul found it odd as the creatures on the continent mutated and began to form cores to store mana to avoid mana poisoning. Even common people had cores but only people with talent and aptitude for mana manipulation could use it to cast spells and become magus.

    ¡°Say,

    Child. Where are you originally from?¡±

    Krul asked. ¡°A war zone? Perhaps from across the ocean?¡±

    Stark

    looked puzzled for a moment. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Just

    curious.¡±

    ¡°Honestly,

    I only remember Kastar, nothing else.¡±

    ¡°I

    see,¡±

    Stark

    glanced at his slave mark and clutched it. He vividly remembered

    getting branded with a hot metal stamp. The pain was awful, the skin

    burned, and the mark materialized afterwards.

    He

    tried to scrub it away but couldn¡¯t.

    As he was about to open his mouth¡ª

    Krul

    frowned, his gaze falling to Stark¡¯s

    hand. ¡°That¡¯s beyond me.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s

    Zaras¡¯th divine magic. Priest magic.¡± Krul¡¯s said with a scowl.

    ¡°I can¡¯t interfere with it.¡±

    To

    demonstrate, Krul stretched a hand toward the mark. A flash of golden

    lightning lashed out, burning his hand.

    ¡°See?¡±

    he said, holding up his scorched palm.

    Stark¡¯s

    shoulders slumped. ¡°So... how do I remove it?¡±

    ¡°I

    don¡¯t know... there must be a way to remove it.¡± Krul explained.

    Stark

    didn¡¯t

    lose hope. He had endured hell for too long to falter now. Freedom¡ªno

    matter how painful¡ªwas worth the cost.

    ¡°Krul¡­

    Please teach me to become strong,¡± Stark pleaded, his voice firm

    despite his trembling hands.

    Krul

    let out a long sigh, a mix of reluctance and resignation. By the look

    in his eyes, refusing wouldn¡¯t

    help.

    ¡°Fine,

    child. I will train you from tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Stark¡¯s eyes lit up.

    Krul

    nodded, waving him off. ¡°Go.

    Rest while you can.¡±

    As

    Stark left, his excitement visible, Krul leaned against the rough

    stone of the cave wall, watching the boy disappear.

    <i>He

    will give up soon.</i>

    The

    words replayed in his mind, echoes of countless similar conversations

    over the centuries. Shaking his head, Krul stepped outside the cave,

    where the vast desert stretched endlessly beneath the star-laden sky.

    ¡°It¡¯s

    been a long time since I¡¯ve stood here,¡± he murmured, his gaze

    distant.

    The

    boy¡¯s

    words lingered in his mind: <i>Strong

    people can be free.</i>

    Krul

    chuckled bitterly. ¡°If

    only that were true, child.¡±

    With

    a faint hum, two golden shackles materialized on his wrists,

    crackling with energy. Like Stark, Krul was bound¡ªtrapped by the

    curse of Zaras¡¯th.

    An

    ancient devil, Krul, had roamed Kastar since the Mythical Era; his

    name brought fear. But no power had ever freed him from the

    great sands grasp. The desert was an endless labyrinth.

    As

    the memories flooded back, the air around him twisted, a violet aura

    seeping from his body in a silent storm.

    <i>Zaras</i><i>¡¯th.

    You vermin¡­</i>

    Once,

    during the Mythical Era, Krul had been known by another name¡ªa name

    that had shaken the heavens and cast fear into the hearts of gods. He

    was the last surviving descendant of the Forsaken.

    Krul

    the God Slayer.

 Chapter 8 - Training

    Stark¡¯s

    body, skeletal and malnourished, was far from ready. Krul¡¯s meals,

    hearty and surprisingly well-prepared, soon restored some strength

    and fattened his frail frame.

    Once

    Stark was fully healed, the physical conditioning began. Despite

    being a mage, Krul had a firm grasp of close-quarters combat¡ªan

    skill for any high-class mage to survive against warriors and

    swordsmen in dire situations.

    Stark¡¯s

    training focused on building raw physical strength: endless running,

    body-weight exercises, and enduring harsh conditions.

    ¡°Why

    am I running in the dark?¡± Stark asked during the first day.

    ¡°To

    train your senses,¡± Krul replied flatly.

    ¡°What

    if I get injured?¡±

    ¡°Injured?¡±

    Krul raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. ¡°I¡¯ll heal

    you. Before, your body was too broken for swift recovery, but now..." He shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. Prepare yourself, child.¡±

    With

    that, Stark was thrust into the maze-like cave network, told only to

    run as fast as he could. The darkness was absolute, the twisting

    paths unforgiving. He slammed into rock walls, stumbled over loose

    rocks, and fell hard against the cold, rocky ground.

    By

    the end of the first day, Stark crawled back to the starting point,

    his nose broken, his body battered and bleeding. He collapsed at

    Krul¡¯s

    feet, barely conscious.

    Krul

    crouched, looking him over with a deadpan expression. ¡°Hm...

    why are you this injured?¡±

    Stark

    tried to answer, but his words were drowned by the blood loss.

    Without

    waiting for a reply, Krul extended his palm. A golden light enveloped

    Stark, outlining every cut, bruise, and fracture. Slowly, the

    injuries mended, his nose snapping back into place as if the damage

    had never been done.

    Stark

    gasped in shock, but Krul simply stood, arms crossed.

    ¡°Now,

    get up and start your body-weight exercises,¡± he ordered.

    More days pass. Stark

    trips and falls every now and then. Though the numbers of falls and

    injuries had been significantly reduced from his first few days

    running. The falls reduced due to his mind getting used to the route.

    He

    was subjected to body-weight exercises until his arms and legs

    trembled like jelly, leaving him huffing on the ground.

    ¡°Is

    this your limit?¡± Krul¡¯s voice was devoid of sympathy as he

    glanced down at his collapsed figure.

    Stark

    couldn¡¯t

    form a single word. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving as sweat

    pooled beneath.

    ¡°Take

    eight hours to rest,¡± Krul said after a moment¡¯s thought. ¡°Then

    we¡¯ll repeat the same regimen.¡±

    <i>Eight

    hours?</i>

    Stark groaned inwardly, too exhausted to voice his thoughts. <i>What

    have I gotten myself into?</i>

    Time

    passed, and Stark gradually began to adapt to the exercises. His once

    frail and skeletal frame started to harden, muscles forming where

    there had been none. The healing spells Krul used on him after every

    session played a significant role. Each spell not only repaired torn

    muscles but also stimulated their growth, accelerating Stark¡¯s

    progress far beyond what ordinary training could achieve.

    Despite

    the advantage, the exercises didn¡¯t

    become easier. As Stark hit each milestone, Krul increased the

    intensity without hesitation. The boy pushed himself to his limits

    and beyond, desperate to match the devil¡¯s crazy standards.

    While

    he eventually mastered the body-weight exercises, the endless running

    through the dark cave network was still a challenge. Each turn was a

    trial of his focus.

    Stark

    still tripped and fell, bruising himself. But the number of falls

    steadily decreased. His feet grew lighter as his body memorized the

    route and his mind adjusted to the darkness.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    One

    night, after a particularly long run, he collapsed at the starting

    point, drenched in sweat.

    Krul

    stood nearby, arms crossed. ¡°No

    injuries?¡± he remarked.

    ¡°Let¡¯s

    up the difficulty,¡± Krul said, a sly smile spreading.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Stark blinked, unsure of what was coming.

    Krul

    cast<b>

    Kraft</b>

    as his hand, glowing a deep brown. The ground beneath them trembled

    violently; dust fell from the ceiling. Stark shielded his eyes from the dust as the

    cave rumbled, the echoes bouncing through the network of passages.

    When

    the shaking finally subsided, Stark glanced back toward the entrance.

    It looked narrower, almost as if the rock had closed in.

    ¡°The

    paths are much smaller now,¡± Krul declared, a hint of pride in his

    voice. ¡°I sealed some of the older routes and created new ones.

    That¡¯s your next challenge.¡±

    Stark

    stared at him wide-eyed as he spoke with enthusiasm. <i>This

    man is insane.</i>

    ¡°Rest

    up,¡± Krul added casually, as though he hadn¡¯t just turned the

    cave into a labyrinth. ¡°I¡¯m going hunting.¡±

    As

    Krul disappeared into the desert, Stark slumped against the wall, his

    mind racing. His body, though stronger, ached from the training. His

    hair was growing back, and the mirror of his reflection in the drinking water pools showed a taller, more defined figure. The meals had done

    wonders for him, too.

    Krul¡¯s

    cooking was leagues better than the rancid gruel Stark had been fed

    at the slave camp. The devil¡¯s stews and roasted meats were hearty

    and flavorful, made from animals Stark had never seen before. One

    such creature had a wheat-colored shell, peculiar drooping ears, and a

    rugged, short tail. Its meat was dark red, almost crimson, but

    surprisingly tender when cooked.

    After

    several more days of training, Stark was beginning to adapt to the

    labyrinth. His senses sharpened with each run, allowing him to

    partially anticipate the obstacles ahead. Still, he stumbled and

    scraped himself often, but his progress was visible.

    Krul

    intentionally made the network much longer and with more turns to

    throw him off track but he managed to adapt

    With

    only a few minor injuries, Stark finally reached the endpoint,

    collapsing with his hands on his knees.

    He

    gasped for air. ¡°I...

    did it...¡±

    Krul

    watched him with a raised eyebrow, snapping his fingers. A soft

    golden glow enveloped Stark, mending his cuts and bruises almost

    instantly.

    ¡°Hm...

    You¡¯re doing well,¡± Krul praised. "Almost no injuries today."

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes brightened at the praise. It was rare for Krul to offer any

    acknowledgment of his efforts.

    Krul

    studied him for a moment, silently reassessing his earlier judgment.

    He had expected the boy to quit after the first day, but Stark¡¯s

    persistence had proven him wrong.

    <i>I

    was wrong</i><i>¡­

    perhaps this child has more potential than I thought.</i>

    ¡°Child,

    do you know how to read and write?¡± Krul asked suddenly.

    Stark

    hesitated. ¡°No¡­¡±

    ¡°But

    you speak Kastari fluently,¡± Krul noted.

    ¡°I

    learned it by listening to others at the camp,¡± Stark admitted.

    ¡°I

    see,¡± Krul mused. ¡°In that case, I¡¯m adding a learning session

    between your training routines. You need to learn how to read and

    write Kastari at the very least.¡±

    Thus,

    Stark took his first steps toward learning. Krul began by teaching

    him the alphabet of Kastari, blending lessons with stories of the

    language¡¯s

    origins.

    ¡°So,

    Child, Kastari was formed as a simplified subset of Biyin,¡± Krul

    explained.

    ¡°What¡¯s

    Biyin?¡± Stark asked curiously.

    ¡°Biyin

    is an ancient language spoken by the people of the Great Sands during

    the Mythical Era,¡± Krul said. ¡°It is my native tongue. I speak

    Kastari now only to communicate with you.¡±

    ¡°So

    why did Biyin get replaced?¡±

    ¡°Complexity,

    Child. Biyin is intricate, heavily contextual, and difficult to master. Kastari,

    as a simplified subset, became more accessible to the majority. Over

    time, Biyin was pushed out and nearly forgotten.¡±

    Krul

    handed Stark a book. ¡°Practice

    your writing in this. Write anything you wish; the goal is to improve

    your comprehension and fluency.¡±

    Stark

    nodded, taking the book carefully.

    During

    one of their lessons, Stark¡¯s

    eyes were drawn to Krul¡¯s hands as the devil gestured at a page. On

    his palms were etched characters¡ªsimilar to Kastari but distinctly

    different¡ªbiyin perhaps. Each palm bore a unique character.

    Stark

    hesitated, unsure of how to voice his question. His gaze lingered on

    Krul¡¯s

    palms, the  markings etched into the skin.

    Krul

    noticed and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are

    you curious, Child?¡±

    "Um...

    sort of,¡± Stark mumbled, shifting nervously. ¡°What are those

    markings?¡±

    With

    a slight smirk, Krul turned his palms upward, displaying them more

    clearly. ¡°These

    are glyphs.¡±

    ¡°Glyphs?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re

    characters in Biyin used to invoke spells,¡± Krul explained.

    ¡°Normally, you carve glyphs in the air like this.¡±

    He

    traced his fingers through the air, leaving trails  of a character, which then  materialized

    into a glowing magic circle. With a glow, conjuring a small violet

    flame that flickered above his palm.

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes widened, captivated. ¡°So, is it different for each spell?¡±

    ¡°In

    a way,¡± Krul nodded.

    ¡°Then

    why do you only have one in each palm?¡±

    Krul

    chuckled. ¡°At

    my level, there¡¯s little need to rely on multiple glyphs. These two

    cover most situations¡ªaround 90%, I¡¯d say.¡± His face grew smug.

    ¡°For the rest, I use instant casting.¡±

    ¡°Instant

    casting?¡± Stark¡¯s brow furrowed.

    Krul

    stepped back and demonstrated, carving two glyphs into the air. The

    first conjured another violet flame via a glowing magic circle, while

    the second flame appeared instantly in his other hand, bypassing the

    circle entirely.

    Stark¡¯s

    jaw dropped. ¡°Whoa¡­ That¡¯s incredible.¡±

    Krul¡¯s

    grin widened. ¡°Now you understand the difference.¡±

    ¡°So,

    how do yo¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough

    distractions, Child.¡± Krul cut him off with a light smack to the

    head. ¡°Get back to studying.¡±

 Chapter 9 - Investigation

    ¡°Captain

    Hern, are you sure that Squire didn¡¯t defect to the other side?¡±

    ¡°Watch

    your mouth, Stain, or I¡¯ll rip it off.¡±

    ¡°The

    caravan should have reached Dzeth almost three weeks ago,¡± Stain

    said sharply ¡°The route¡¯s safe, except for the Evont Cluster. But

    Rakel and the caravan supposedly passed through that.¡±

    ¡°Rakel

    isn¡¯t that kind of man,¡± Hern said firmly.

    ¡°Fine,

    fine.¡± Stain raised his hands in mock surrender. ¡°But you can¡¯t

    deny it¡¯s odd.¡±

    ¡°What

    were you border dogs doing in Thal¡¯rasha anyway? Huh?¡± Hern spat,

    irritated by Stain ¡°Tch. Why are you even here with me?¡±

    ¡°Orders

    from above,¡± Stain said with a smirk, brushing sand off his

    shoulder. ¡°Can¡¯t help it, Captain. The rulers are anxious with

    everything happening in Arazan.¡±

    Hern

    kicked at the loose sand, sending a small spray scattering over his

    boots. ¡°The

    sewer rats again? How in the hell did those filth get past the Order

    of Juh?¡±

    Stain

    shrugged lazily. ¡°No

    idea.¡±

    Stain

    was one of the border captains of Kastar, part of an elite force akin

    to the Order of Juh. With recent events involving the Rat Knights, a

    few of these units, including Stain and some higher-ranking officers,

    had been called back to investigate.

    The

    disappearance of Rakel and the slave caravan after passing through

    the Evont Cluster had triggered an investigation notice to

    Thal¡¯rasha.

    General

    Koles had been held responsible for the mishap, and Captain Hern and

    Stain were dispatched to uncover the truth under his orders

    An

    investigative notice for a slave caravan¡ªbullshit. Someone wants

    Koles out, Stain thought.

    ¡°It¡¯s

    an awful lot of people to trace a caravan,¡± he remarked, glancing

    at the squad trailing behind.

    Hern

    and Stain were full-fledged knights, accompanied by a small unit of

    soldiers, two 3rd-class Magus, and a tracer.

    ¡°Koles

    was fond of Rakel." Hern sighed

    ¡°That

    old fart? Fond of a squire?¡± Stain scoffed.

    ¡°Watch

    your mouth, border dog,¡± Hern snapped. ¡°Rakel wasn¡¯t just any

    squire. He was already at the level of a low-level knight.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s

    not unheard of,¡± Stain replied, running a hand through his hair.

    ¡°Plenty of squires from Arazan reach that level by his age.¡±

    ¡°Rakel

    started training two years ago.¡±

    Stain¡¯s

    eyes widened, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words. ¡°Then

    that was a huge loss.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.

    Koles invested a lot into him,¡± Hern admitted. ¡°If he defected,

    it would all go to waste.¡±

    Stain

    scratched his head and glanced at the tracer. The hooded figure

    carried a special stone apparatus etched with glowing glyphs.

    ¡°Are

    we there yet?¡± Stain asked.

    The

    tracer examined the device and shook his head. ¡°No

    signs yet, Captain. Wait, so¡ª¡±

    A

    sudden, faint glow enveloped the apparatus. The tracer scrambled and

    said, ¡°Captain,

    it¡¯s showing something¡ªright up ahead.¡±

    ¡°Squad,

    alert!¡± Stain barked, unsheathing his sword.

    The

    signs pointed to the middle of the desert. There was a strong chance

    the caravan had been attacked¡ªeither by monsters or a bandit group.

    Stain, with his experience, knew better than to rush in blindly.

    The

    Magus adjusted their gloves as they prepared for a fight.

    Raising

    a hand, Stain signaled for caution and advanced with Hern. The trail

    led them toward the far side of a towering sand dunes.

    As

    Stain walked up the dune, his breath caught, and his eyes widened at

    the sight below.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°Stain,

    what is it?¡± Hern asked, tugging on his shoulder. ¡°Why did y¡ª¡±

    He

    froze mid-sentence. The desert lay eerily still, littered with

    shattered rocks and bones. Skulls and skeletons¡ªhuman and beast

    alike¡ªwere scattered in the sand, drenched in the vulgar stench of

    acid and rotting flesh.

    Birds

    and desert scavengers feasted on the remains. The sand below had

    turned a faint red, soaking the blood.

    ¡°What...

    what happened here?¡± Stain murmured.

    ¡°It¡¯s

    clear,¡± Hern called back to the others, though his voice wavered.

    ¡°Let¡¯s

    get closer,¡± he said, turning to Stain.

    As

    they went closer, the smell of the rotting flesh became stronger, and

    the birds took off into the clear sky.

    They

    descended the dune, the acrid smell of flesh grew stronger. The

    sudden flurry of wings broke as the desert scavenger birds took to

    the sky.

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±

    Hern covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve at the stench.

    Stain,

    unfazed, scanned the surroundings. The rest of the group followed his

    lead, their faces pale as they moved carefully through the sea of

    remains.

    ¡°The

    worst has happened, Hern,¡± Stain muttered, inspecting the remains

    with his gloved hands.

    ¡°What

    do you mean?¡± Hern asked, his voice muffled behind his sleeve.

    ¡°It

    seems the caravan fell prey to bone-eaters.¡±

    ¡°Bone-eaters?

    On this route?¡± Hern frowned.

    ¡°Odd,

    isn¡¯t it?¡± Stain replied, gesturing at the scattered remains.

    ¡°But these are normal bone-eaters. A squire of Rakel¡¯s caliber

    should have been able to handle them easily.¡±

    ¡°Captain,

    come take a look at this,¡± the tracer called out, his voice tinged

    with urgency.

    The

    two knights approached to find a larger skeleton¡ªthe carcass of an

    elder bone-eater. Its flesh hung in rotting strips, riddled with

    worms writhing through. Stain knelt by the creature¡¯s

    skull, examining the jawbones.

    ¡°An

    elder?¡± Stain clicked his tongue in frustration.

    Nearby

    lay the lower body skeleton of a human. A rusted sword lay

    half-buried in the sand beside it, glinting faintly in the sunlight.

    The

    tracer exhaled sharply, pointing at the remains. ¡°This

    appears to be Rakel¡¯s body.¡±

    Hern¡¯s

    clicked his tongue. ¡°This doesn¡¯t add up.¡±

    ¡°How

    could he die fighting an elder? A squire of his caliber should have

    been able to kill one,¡± he said, shaking his head.

    ¡°And

    this is an open plain,¡± Stain added grimly. ¡°There¡¯s no terrain

    disadvantage here.¡±

    The

    tracer crouched near the elder¡¯s

    remains. ¡°By the looks of it, Rakel managed to kill this elder

    before he fell.¡±

    Stain

    rose to his feet and ordered, ¡°Search

    the area for more clues.¡±

    The

    rest of the unit scattered out, scouring the scene. They uncovered

    scattered remnants of the slaves¡ªtattered leather armor, rusted

    weapons embedded in the sand, and shredded rags partially consumed by

    scavengers. Nearby lay the half-eaten bodies of soldiers and slaves,

    their bones picked clean by desert birds.

    As

    Stain scanned the scene, his gaze fell upon a skeleton severed at the

    waist. It lay outside the main zone of the battle, partially buried

    in the sand. Tattered rags and shards of armor clung to its bones,

    and within its ribcage, a rusted badge caught the sunlight.

    ¡°Hmm¡­

    Could this be the rest of the squire¡¯s remains?¡± he muttered to himself,

    crouching down for a closer look.

    <i>The

    cuts aren</i><i>¡¯t

    clean¡ªmore like deep tears. Claws, most likely.</i>

    ¡°Interesting,¡±

    he mumbled, standing and brushing the sand from his gloves before

    heading back toward the unit.

    Nearby,

    the tracer knelt with his stone apparatus, its runes confirming the

    identities of several soldier corpses.

    ¡°Koles

    must be furious,¡± Stain remarked as he joined Hern.

    ¡°Surely,¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s

    odd.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s

    odd?¡± Hern asked, frowning

    ¡°Bone-eaters

    on this route,¡± Stain replied, gesturing at the scene. ¡°By the

    looks of it, there were two elder bone-eaters here.¡±

    ¡°Is

    that surprising?¡±

    Stain

    sighed, shaking his head. ¡°You

    city-knights wouldn¡¯t understand this, but elder bone-eaters never

    work together.¡±

    ¡°Huh?

    Why¡¯s that?¡± Hern asked, tilting his head in confusion.

    ¡°An

    elder bone-eater acts as a commander,¡± Stain explained. ¡°It leads

    its unit, and there¡¯s no need for two commanders in a single

    group.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s

    strange. Didn¡¯t elders group up during the horde attacks a few

    years ago?¡± Hern asked.

    Stain

    sighed. ¡°The

    horde was different. Those elders were led by an Ancient,¡± he said

    ¡°Ancients are unique¡ªone of a kind. Elders can¡¯t resist their

    control.¡±

    ¡°There

    might be a ch¡ª¡± Hern began, only for Stain to cut him off.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Stain¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°An Ancient making a move would mean an

    all-out war, Hern.¡±

    Hern

    fell silent, swallowing hard. He knew better than to argue on matters

    like this. Stain¡¯s

    experience as a border knight, seasoned by countless experiences that

    far exceeded his own.

    ¡°But

    you know what¡¯s weirder than that?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    asked Hern.

    ¡°Where

    are the Ish¡¯raks?¡±

    ¡°What

    do you mean? Their remains are here, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Not

    all of them,¡± Stain said shaking his head. ¡°And notice something

    else¡ªthe skeletons are intact. Bone-eaters consume their prey. You

    really expect me to believe the elder that killed Rakel just left

    without consuming anything?¡±

    The

    tracer jogged back to the group, his face tense. ¡°We¡¯ve

    identified the soldiers¡¯ remains, Captain.¡±

    Stain

    folded his arms ¡°What

    about the slaves?¡±

    The

    tracer hesitated. ¡°Should

    we¡­ do something about them?¡±

    Hern

    clicked his tongue in disgust. ¡°Why

    would we waste time on those filth?¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡±

    the tracer murmured, looking down.

    ¡°Retrieve

    any weapons and badges from the soldiers. Leave nothing useful

    behind.¡± Stain said

    The

    tracer stepped closer, lowering his voice. ¡°According

    to the records, one slave is unaccounted for.¡±

    Stain¡¯s

    eyes narrowed. ¡°Send it to her.¡±

    The

    tracer¡¯s

    face paled. ¡°Are you certain, Captain? If she gets involved, this

    will escalate into something much bigger.¡±

    ¡°It

    already is,¡± Stain replied, his voice low. ¡°Hern doesn¡¯t know

    the full picture, and you¡¯re aware of Koles¡¯s ties to the

    faction.¡±

    The

    tracer¡¯s

    reluctantly asked . ¡°This¡­ this was a targeted attack?¡±

    Stain¡¯s

    sighed. ¡°Exactly.¡±

    ¡°Hey,

    Border dog!¡± Hern¡¯s voice rang out from a distance. ¡°What are

    you doing over there? The investigation¡¯s done!¡±

    Stain

    clicked his tongue in irritation before turning back to the tracer.

    ¡°You

    have your orders. Do as I say.¡±

    The

    tracer hesitated briefly, then nodded. ¡°Understood,

    Captain.¡±

 Chapter 10 - First Fight

    ¡°NOOOOOOOO!

    HELP ME¡­!¡±

    Stark¡¯s

    desperate cries echoed across the desert as he sprinted through the

    loose sand. Behind him, a swirling cloud of dust marked a beast¡¯s

    pursuit. He glanced over his shoulder and screamed again.

    The

    desert Stilo was gaining on him, its eyes fixed on him. Stark

    recognized the beast¡ªit was the same kind Krul used to roast for

    meals.

    ¡°You

    never told me they breathe <b>fucking

    FIRE!</b>¡±

    he shouted.

    Suddenly,

    the Stilo unleashed a torrent of flames. Stark dove to the side,

    feeling the searing heat sting his back. The sand behind him hissed

    but Stark kept running.

    Above

    him, Krul hovered effortlessly using his wings. He smirked, a plate

    of roasted meat in one hand.

    ¡°Use

    that sword and kill the Stilo!¡± Krul said while munching on the

    roast meat with an amused smirk.

    ¡°Easy

    for you to say! You¡¯re enjoying this, aren¡¯t you?¡± Stark

    shouted back.

    Krul

    chuckled, taking another bite of his meal. ¡°Consider

    it a practical lesson.¡±

    Over

    time, Krul incorporated basic swordsmanship into Stark¡¯s

    routine, only after he had mastered the cave runs and bodyweight

    exercises.

    The

    results were striking. His muscles now defined and lean. His hair

    patchy grew back thick.

    Stark

    had grown taller, his posture no longer hunched but upright.

    But

    all the drills in the world hadn¡¯t

    prepared him for a fire-breathing Stilo charging at full speed.

    <b>THUD.</b>

    Stark

    collided face-first with an invisible wall, the impact sending him

    stumbling backward. He groaned, rubbing his forehead, but before he

    could gather his bearings, the Stilo charged. Its head rammed into

    his gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He collapsed to the ground,

    gasping, clutching his gut.

    The

    beast stepped back, its chest heaving as it prepared to unleash the

    fire breath.

    ¡°Get

    up,¡± Krul¡¯s voice rang out.

    A

    faint purple glow encased the Stilo, freezing it in place. Krul

    hovered nearby, his outstretched hand glowing purple. He had isolated

    this stretch of the desert, trapping Stark with the beast.

    ¡°No

    running this time, Human Child¡± Krul added, smirking.

    Stark

    staggered to his feet, wincing as pain filled his bruised abdomen.

    His grip tightened on his sword, sweat dripping. He cautiously

    stepped out, his gaze fixed on the beast.

    ¡°Good

    luck,¡± Krul smirked, releasing the Stilo from his hold.

    The

    beast roared and unleashed a blazing stream of fire. Stark dove to

    the side, the heat grazing his arm as the sand hissed. The Stilo

    charged again, swift.

    <i>I

    can</i><i>¡¯t

    face it head-on. Think.</i>

    He

    sidestepped, swinging his blade as the beast lunged. His strike

    missed, plunging into the sand instead. The Stilo wheeled around,

    spitting flames that forced Stark to roll away, barely escaping.

    ¡°You

    damn beast,¡± Stark muttered through gritted teeth.

    The

    Stilo charged again before Stark could fully rise. He barely had time

    to lift his sword in defense. The beast¡¯s

    head slammed into the blade, sending him hurtling into the loose

    sand.

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±

    Stark groaned, coughing and spitting grains of sand. His arms

    trembled from the impact, his grip on the sword weak but somehow

    intact.

    ¡°Good

    defense,¡± Krul¡¯s voice called out. ¡°Now get up and aim for its

    weak points.¡±

    ¡°Weak

    points?¡± Stark yelled, glaring at Krul. ¡°Does it even <i>have</i>

    any?¡±

    ¡°Find

    them,¡± Krul replied, his smirk widening.

    ¡°You

    senile old devil¡­¡± Stark muttered under his breath, tightening

    his grip on the sword.

    He

    forced himself to his feet.

    The

    next moments were a blur. The Stilo rammed into him repeatedly,

    tossing him like a rag doll. He swung his sword wildly, hitting

    nothing but empty air. By the time the world faded to black, his body

    had given up entirely.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes fluttered open to the familiar dusty ceiling of the cave, fully

    recovered and rested due to Krul¡¯s magic.

    He

    sat up slowly, glancing around. Krul sat nearby, in a chair,

    engrossed in a book.

    ¡°How

    was your first fight, child?¡± Krul asked without looking up.

    Stark

    rubbed his forehead, glaring at him. ¡°What

    the hell was that? Why did you make me fight a fire-breathing

    monster?¡±

    Krul

    finally glanced at him, puzzled. ¡°What

    do you mean? Stilo is the weakest beast in the region.¡±

    ¡°Huh?

    <i>That</i><i>¡¯s</i>

    the weakest?¡±

    ¡°Of

    course,¡± Krul said, turning a page in his book.

    Stark

    groaned, leaning back against the wall. ¡°What

    about the bone-eaters?¡±

    ¡°The

    normal ones?¡± Krul asked casually.

    ¡°Both,¡±

    Stark

    still had nightmares about the Elder bone-eater. Its sinister smile

    haunted his sleep, . Every morning, he woke drenched in cold sweat,

    his chest heaving as if the beasts were still looking for him.

    ¡°Normal

    bone-eaters are low-level monsters,¡± Krul began. ¡°But Elders?

    They range from mid to high-level.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s

    a difference?¡± Stark asked curiously.

    Krul

    nodded. ¡°Yes.

    The longer an Elder survives, the stronger and smarter it becomes.

    Decades of survival allow it to evolve into something far more

    dangerous¡ªan Ancient.¡±

    Stark¡¯s

    brow furrowed. ¡°An Ancient¡­ Is it that terrifying?¡±

    ¡°Terrifying

    doesn¡¯t cover it.¡±

    ¡°Is

    it huge?¡± Stark asked, imagining a towering beast.

    Krul

    shook his head. ¡°No,

    child. That¡¯s the most unsettling part. Ancients look eerily

    similar to Elders. But even an army of Elders wouldn¡¯t be able to

    touch one.¡±

    Stark

    hesitated, then asked, ¡°Is

    it stronger than you?¡±

    Krul

    scoffed. ¡°A

    mere beast cannot compare to me,¡± he said with a haughty smirk.

    ¡°Then

    how do you tell the difference?¡±

    ¡°Their

    eyes,¡± he said, ¡°While an Elder¡¯s eyes are scarlet, an

    Ancient¡¯s are a deep purple.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll

    have another go at the Stilo in the evening,¡± Krul said casually.

    Stark

    didn¡¯t

    argue. He simply nodded.

    The

    fights replayed in his mind, each mistake looping endlessly. The only

    thing he had truly learned was the basics¡ªslashing, dodging, and

    footwork. His swordsmanship was raw, unrefined.

    <i>Its

    movements are repetitive</i><i>¡­

    I think.</i>

    Despite

    the fear crawling under his skin, Stark had made it a point to

    observe the beast carefully during their last encounter.

    <i>I

    can do this.</i>

    Hours

    later, he stood once more, face-to-face with the Stilo. This time, it

    was larger¡ªits  body strewn with thick fur. Its glowing eyes locked

    onto him with a predatory look.

    Krul

    hovered above, isolating the place from outside interference.

    Stark

    gripped his sword and studied the beast.

    ¡°Show

    me what you¡¯ve learned,¡± he called out, before releasing the

    beast.

    The

    Stilo charged, its claws digging into the sand as it closed the

    distance in a blur

    Stark

    held his ground, gripping his sword tightly.

    He

    steeled himself to face the beast head-on.

    Running

    would only waste time and energy. Instead, he stepped aside ,

    narrowly avoiding the beast¡¯s

    charge.

    The

    Stilo spun with unnatural agility, unleashing flames. Stark dove,

    rolling across the sand and rising to his feet swiftly. His heart

    pounded, but his grip on the sword steadied.

    The

    beast prepared to charge again. Sensing the opportunity. He lunged

    forward.

    His

    sword punched through the air aimed squarely at the creature¡¯s

    head.

    <i>This

    is it.</i>

    <b>CLANG</b>

    The

    sword deflected off the Stilo¡¯s

    head. The beast flicked its snout upward, sending Stark flying like a

    rag doll.

    <i>Huh?</i>

    The world spun around him as he shot through the air. <i>Fuck,

    I¡ª.</i>

    He

    landed hard on his shoulder but used the momentum to roll, ending in

    a low crouch.

    <i>Its

    hide is fucking hard.</i>

    The

    Stilo turned, preparing to charge again. Its movements were

    predictable, allowing Stark to dodge easily. But no matter how many

    times he evaded, he couldn¡¯t

    land a meaningful hit.

    Swinging

    at its side, his sword struck and recoiled with a strong vibration

    that rattled his bones.

    <i>Does

    it even have weak spots? It</i><i>¡¯s

    like I¡¯m swinging at a huge chunk of metal.</i>

    Stark

    kept his focus on the beast. This time, as the Stilo charged, it

    stopped abruptly mid-sprint, anticipating his dodge, and unleashed

    it¡¯s

    signature breath of flames.

    ¡°Fuck!¡±

    Stark raised his sword and arms to shield himself, stumbling

    backward.

    Pain

    surged through him as the searing flames hit at his exposed skin.

    His

    arms burned and trembled, his grip barely holding onto the sword. His

    reddened skin throbbed from the stinging heat, yet his resolve didn¡¯t

    falter.

    ¡°I

    can still do this¡­¡± he muttered, the words spilling out like

    chant.

    The

    beast opened its mouth to unleash flames, and Stark jumped back just

    in time. The flames scorched the sand, but he could feel the heat

    pinching at his skin.

    <i>Wait...

    its mouth.</i>

    Stark

    darted to the side as the Stilo charged again, missing its mark.

    Frustrated, the beast turned to its flames. Stark¡¯s

    sharp eyes followed its movements, sweat dripping from his forehead.

    The heat poked at his skin like a thousand needles.

    <i>Just

    like I thought. </i>

    He

    lunged straight at the Stilo, weaving slightly to throw it off. As

    the beast opened its mouth to breathe fire, Stark stepped sharply to

    the side and thrust his blade into the gaping mouth.

    The

    flames grazed his side, burning his skin, but Stark pressed on. With

    a scream of rage, his blade pierced the tender flesh inside the

    Stilo¡¯s

    mouth.

    The

    beast screeched in agony, shaking its head violently. Stark was

    thrown through the air and landed hard in the sand.

    <i>Yes,

    a hit</i><i>¡­

    finally.</i>

    He

    spat blood from his mouth and clutched his aching body, battered from

    the impact and the burns. His sword was still in his grip,

    miraculously intact.

    The

    Stilo stood back on its hind legs, blood pouring from its mouth.

    That¡¯s

    when Stark saw it: the soft underbelly, unprotected by the fur and

    shell covering the rest of its body.

    <i>This

    is my chance. </i>

    Ignoring

    the pain, he charged forward. His sword swung in a powerful arc,

    passing through the exposed flesh like butter. The underbelly spat

    out a sea of blood and organs  as the beast let out a agonizing

    screech.

    But

    Stark wasn¡¯t

    done.

    Using

    the momentum, he pivoted on his heel and drove his sword forward,

    impaling the beast through its belly.

    With

    a final screech, the Stilo collapsed onto its back, lifeless, taking

    Stark¡¯s

    sword with it.

    He

    stood there, clutching his bruised shoulder, adrenaline surging

    through him.

    <i>I

    did it.</i>

    His

    lips curled into a victorious grin. With a surge of emotion, he

    screamed, ¡°YES!

    I DID IT!¡±

 Chapter 11 - Improvement

    A

    few days had passed, and Stark was now fighting three Stilos at once.

    He had grown accustomed to their attack patterns. His footwork was

    quicker, and his reflexes were sharper. His swordplay had improved

    drastically, thanks to the constant battles.

    Krul

    had decided to increase the difficulty, and at first, Stark

    struggled. Attacks from blind spots had left him vulnerable.

    Slowly

    but surely. He adapted.

    Today

    was different. For the first time, he faced three Stilos at once, all

    larger than the first one. They were faster, deadlier.

    The

    first Stilo charged at him without hesitation.

    Stark

    leapt onto its back, but the beast bucked violently, trying to throw

    him off. He sprang off just in time, but the second Stilo was already

    releasing a breath of fire.

    ¡°Fuck...¡±

    he cursed, diving backward to avoid the flames.

    The

    third Stilo charged at him next. Stark dropped his shoulder and used

    his sword to deflect off the edge of its hard head, using the

    momentum to flip away into a corner.

    Now,

    Stark was surrounded. Behind him was the isolation wall by Krul and

    Ahead were the three beasts. Their eyes locked on him, closing in.

    His

    eyes darted back and forth, searching for an opening.

    <i>There.</i>

    He

    lunged toward the gap between the two of them, but they shifted to block

    him. Stark didn¡¯t

    hesitate. He sharply pivoted to the other side, slipping past them

    and escaping the cornered situation.

    The

    larger Stilos were deadly, but their size came with a disadvantage:

    gaps. Unlike the smaller ones, their hard shell and fur didn¡¯t

    extend past their knees.

    The

    three beasts turned toward him. By then, Stark was already charging

    at the Stilo furthest away. He weaved to the side and swung his blade

    beneath its knee, slicing through the flesh, leaving a deep gash.

    Blood sprayed and the Stilo screeched in agony.

    Stark

    quickly dashed to the wounded beast¡¯s

    back. He noticed the other two preparing to unleash their flames.

    The

    flames hit the injured Stilo in the face, making it screech louder,

    shaking its head in panic.

    Blinded

    by the fire, the wounded Stilo charged at the nearest Stilo. Its

    front legs lifted from the impact, exposing its underbelly.

    <i>Now.</i>

    Without

    hesitation, Stark dashed forward. Using the front legs of the injured

    Stilo as leverage, he leapt onto its head, then launched himself

    toward the second beast, sword raised high.

    His

    blade descended in a deadly arc, cutting from the top to the middle

    of its belly.

    The

    Stilo screeched before collapsing onto its back, blood and organs

    spilling through the deep gash. It squirmed briefly, then went limp.

    The

    injured Stilo, still in panic, was a blur in Stark''s vision.

    <i>Not

    now,</i>

    he thought, his eyes fixed on the other beast.

    The

    third Stilo was preparing to charge. Stark¡¯s

    lips curled into a smile. He took a step back, drawing the beast¡¯s

    attention.

    As

    the Stilo was about to charge, Stark dashed toward the wounded one.

    The focused Stilo, who followed him blind with fury, charged and rammed

    its hard head into the injured Stilo''s side.

    Stark

    pivoted on his heel, dodging as the wounded Stilo flipped through the

    air, landing heavily on its back, sending a spray of sand into the

    air.

    <i>Nice.

    That</i><i>¡¯s

    how you beasts should behave.</i>

    He

    turned around and sprinted toward the fallen Stilo. Climbing onto its

    exposed belly, he slashed at it mercilessly, each strike spraying

    blood in every direction.

    As

    the dust began to settle, a torrent of flames cut through the haze.

    Stark ducked low, barely dodging the fire. The flames grazed his

    arms, leaving stinging red burns.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    <i>Two

    down. One to go.</i>

    Stark swiftly descended from the fallen beast¡¯s

    body, his focus now entirely on the last Stilo.

    Stark

    gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the needle-like burning

    sensation coursing through his body. From a distance, he studied the

    Stilo, waiting for the right moment to strike. Taking a step forward,

    he taunted the beast to make the first move.

    As

    he moved into its range, the Stilo''s gaze locked onto him

    The

    moment it began to open its mouth, Stark dashed to the side, weaving

    unpredictable. He closed in and slid beneath the gap between its

    legs, he slashed open its hind legs swiftly and precisely, cutting

    below the knees. .

    <i>It

    can</i><i>¡¯t

    charge now. </i>

    Anticipating

    its next move, Stark darted from side to side and slashed at Stilo¡¯s

    legs. Each strike left deep gashes below the knees, weakening the

    beast further. The Stilo screeched in pain, its thrashing flinging

    loose sand into the air.

    Preparing

    to unleash its fiery breath, the Stilo reared back. Stark ran

    straight toward it

    The

    beast was seeing red. The air grew unbearably hot as the flames

    roared toward him.

    With

    a sharp pivot, Stark evaded the attack and drove his sword into the

    flesh of the Stilo¡¯s

    open mouth.

    The

    beast cried out in agony, but this time it clamped its jaws down,

    tightening its flesh around the blade.

    <i>Damn

    it</i><i>¡­

    this beast¡ª</i>

    The

    sword was stuck. The air grew oppressive as the Stilo prepared to

    unleash another torrent of flames.

    <i>No</i><i>¡­

    I won¡¯t¡ª</i>

    ¡°YOU

    DAMNED BEAST!¡± Stark roared, channeling every ounce of strength

    into driving the stuck sword down.

    The

    flames erupted, scorching the sands and filling the air with a

    hissing roar. But Stark had already torn the Stilo''s mouth apart, the

    flesh splitting as he fell to the ground, narrowly escaping the

    searing attack.

    Above

    him, the Stilo''s mouth hung open, blood pouring down onto him. The

    heat still radiated from the beast.

    Wasting

    no time, Stark thrust his sword upward into the roof of the Stilo¡¯s

    gaping mouth. The blade pierced through the tender flesh, driving

    into its eyes and deep into its brain.

    With

    a guttural screech, the Stilo thrashed violently, but it was too

    late. Its brain was damaged, and blood gushed from its wounds. The

    beast staggered before collapsing to the ground, its body going limp

    and lifeless.

    Stark

    had won the battle¡ªentirely on his own.

    ¡°Splendid,

    child,¡± Krul remarked, descending gracefully from the sky.

    A

    golden glow enveloped Stark, swiftly mending his burns and wounds

    from the battle. The beast¡¯s

    blood evaporated from his skin, leaving him clean once more

    Stark

    took a deep breath. He felt stronger than the day before¡ªa small

    but satisfying improvement. Still, it wasn¡¯t

    enough. He was nowhere near the level of the Squire or the Elder

    Bone-eater.

    To

    survive, strength was essential.

    ¡°How

    does it feel to defeat one of the weakest beasts in the Great Sands?¡±

    Krul asked with a smug expression.

    ¡°Oh¡­.It

    feels like crap.¡±

    ¡°Oh?

    Does it?¡± Krul studied him, intrigued.

    <i>He</i><i>¡¯s

    a natural warrior, </i>Krul thought.<i> Adapting to different situations

    within days of starting his training.</i>

    ¡°And

    why do you feel that way?¡±

    ¡°I

    don¡¯t know... it feels like my sword is weak,¡± Stark admitted.

    ¡°It

    <i>is</i>

    weak, child,¡±

    Krul explained. ¡°I am no sword master¡ªI cannot teach you the way

    of the sword. I am a magus.¡±

    With

    a snap of his fingers, he broke the isolation barrier. Faint glowing

    particles dissipated into the air.

    ¡°Today¡¯s

    training is done. From now on, you will be in charge of hunting for

    food.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Hunt

    Stilos and bring them to the cave,¡± Krul said with a sly smile. ¡°It

    will be excellent training.¡±

    As

    Krul and Stark turned to leave, another beast appeared before them.

    It was a slender, bipedal creature with rock-textured skin and spikes

    running along its back. Hollow sockets clung to its squared face, and

    at the center of its chest was a gaping hole. Wooden tendrils jutted

    from the cavity, curling protectively over its chest.

    ¡°Get

    behind me,¡± Krul ordered, his voice cold and firm.

    Stark

    sensed something was wrong and quickly obeyed.

    The

    beast tilted its head a full 180 degrees, a sinister grin spreading

    across its unnatural face.

    Then

    it vanished.

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes darted frantically from side to side, searching for the beast.

    Krul

    raised his left palm, and a blue aura enveloped his hand, forming a

    circular barrier around them.

    An

    ear-splitting explosion rocked the desert as sand erupted into the

    air. The beast¡¯s

    punch slammed against the barrier, sending shock waves rippling

    outward. It had aimed directly at Stark.

    The

    sudden impact startled Stark, causing him to stumble and fall to the

    ground.

    Krul

    turned his cold gaze toward the beast.

    The

    creature began pummeling the barrier with relentless force, each

    strike shaking the earth beneath them. Stark could feel the raw,

    overwhelming power from within the barrier.

    Krul

    clicked his tongue in irritation. ¡°You

    filthy corrupted being,¡± he spat in contempt

    Just

    as the beast raised its hand for another punch, Krul lowered the

    barrier and extended his other palm. A violet beam shot out, striking

    the creature in the gut. The impact sent it flying like a rag doll,

    crashing into a massive dune and leveling it completely.

    <i>What

    the hell is that creature?</i>

    Stark thought, his heart racing.

    Before

    he could process what had happened, the beast reappeared in front of

    Krul.

    ¡°Annoying,¡±

    Krul muttered, blocking its punch with the barrier once again. His

    cold gaze swept over the beast, noting the chipped fragments of its

    rocky skin where the beam had struck.

    The

    creature leaped back, and Krul allowed the barrier to disperse.

    In

    a flash, he carved a glyph into the air¡ªso fast that Stark didn¡¯t

    catch the movement.

    ¡°Begone,

    corrupted soul,¡±

    The

    beast¡¯s

    head exploded instantly. No blood spilled; only fragments of rocky

    skin flew into the sky before raining down like shards of glass. Its

    lifeless body collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

 Chapter 12 - Prince of False Heavens

    Stark

    stood in a vast white room that stretched endlessly. Before him stood

    a massive dark gate, bound by rusted chains and weathered talismans

    that pulsed faintly with an glow. At its center, a large purple eye

    swiveled, inspecting him intently, moving from side to side.

    He

    was paralyzed with terror. He couldn¡¯t

    move.

    <i>Another

    dream? Again...what the hell is this?</i>

    Stark

    glanced down at his body, only to feel a fresh wave of unease. He was

    floating in the air. Where his legs should have been was a swirling

    mass of black smoke. His entire form was translucent, with smoke

    curling up.

    <i>Huh?</i>

    The

    large purple eye narrowed, giving the uncanny impression of a

    sinister smile hidden behind the gate. The massive structure

    shuddered and groaned as it creaked open. Tendrils of dark smoke

    spilled forth, consuming the white light.

    Stark

    gulped anxiously, despite his smoky form.

    This

    time, no smoky hands lashed out at him.

    Time

    passed.

    Nothing.

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes remained fixed on the gate.

    <b>THUMP.</b>

    A

    heavy footstep echoed.

    The

    sound grew louder with each passing moment. More black smoke poured

    from the gaping void beyond the gate.

    A

    figure emerged.

    It

    was utterly dark¡ªan abyss in humanoid shape. No eyes, no face, no

    features¡ªjust a form of nightmarish black. An ominous red halo

    hovered above its head, pulsating faintly.

    The

    figure stepped forward.

    Stark

    began to shake, his entire form trembling uncontrollably. The air

    around him grew oppressive, suffocating in its sheer hostility.

    Suddenly,

    a shadowy hand lashed out from the figure¡¯s

    chest.

    The

    hand coiled around Stark¡¯s

    neck, its grip suffocating. He tried to breathe, but his essence

    seemed to tremble, snuffed out like a dying flame. His pupils

    dilated, trembling as if they could shatter under the fear.

    The

    figure drew him closer.

    A

    single eye snapped open on its forehead, its crimson pupil glowing.

    A

    sound, cold echoed in Stark¡¯s

    head.

    ¡°<b>So

    You are the Prince of the False Heavens? Not bad¡­.I shall use you

    to fulfill the pact.¡±</b>

    <i>W-Who</i><i>¡­?

    And Pact¡­?</i>

    ¡°<b>You

    are not worthy to know, yet.¡± </b>

    <i>What

    do you mean? Worthy of what?</i>

    ¡°<b>Cross

    the Immortal Divide. Only then shall you have your answers.¡±</b>

    <i>What

    if I don</i><i>¡¯t?</i>

    The

    weight in the air shifted, crashing down like a tidal wave. Stark¡¯s

    form shivered violently as the force threatened to obliterate him

    entirely. His very soul felt as though it was unraveling, torn apart

    like threads.

    ¡°<b>You

    are a bold one I give you that.¡± </b>A

    cold, mocking laugh echoed. ¡°<b>So

    I shall leave you with a little parting gift.</b><b>¡±

    </b>

    A

    dark hand pierced his chest, gripping his heart. A searing-hot pain

    erupted inside him, burning. His smoky body convulsed violently, his

    hands clawing at his chest, desperate to tear it open and relieve the

    agony.

    The

    figure¡¯s

    eyes burned brighter

    ¡°<b>Choose

    your path wisely¡­ O Chosen One.¡±</b>

    The

    world plunged into darkness as Stark was hurled into the gaping void

    like a rag doll.

    He

    woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat. His chest heaved, and his

    heart racing uncontrollably. Stark clutched his chest, struggling to

    catch his breath.

    ¡°Haaa¡­

    Haaa¡­ Haaa¡­¡± He took deep, shuddering breaths to stabilize

    himself.

    <i>What

    the hell was that?</i>Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Stark

    looked down at his chest. Apart from the slave mark, there were no

    injuries but he was sure that his chest was burning like molten lava

    but there was a mark on his chest, a small red mark right in the

    center where the hand entered his chest

    <i>This

    mark</i><i>¡­was

    it there before? </i>

    His

    forehead dripped with sweat as his trembling legs refused to steady.

    The figure, the gate, the words¡ªit was all burned into his mind.

    <i>Immortal

    Divide? False Heavens?</i> <i>Prince ! I am a Prince??? </i>He racked his brain, trying to make sense of the phrase, but it was

    useless.

    Stark¡¯s

    head throbbed from the lingering fear and stress. He forced himself

    to his feet.

    <i>Fuck!!

    I need to clear my mind.</i>

    He

    began to exercise, hoping to push the thoughts out of his system.

    Gripping

    his training sword, Stark began swinging it, repeating the basic

    movements Krul had taught him.

    He

    fixed his gaze on the tip of the blade, channeling all his energy

    into the motion.

    Again

    And

    Again.

    He

    swung the sword until his arms gave out.

    This

    was part of his morning regimen. Krul had explained that he couldn¡¯t

    teach Stark his style of swordsmanship, as it was heavily reliant on

    magic¡ªwhich Stark had no aptitude for.

    Instead,

    Krul had focused on building Stark¡¯s

    foundation. Footwork, positioning, attack, and defense¡ªthese were

    the essential pillars of sword arts, and Stark repeated those drills

    endlessly.

    His

    legs trembled again.

    ¡°Damn

    that¡­ dream,¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°I can¡¯t get it

    out of my head.¡±

    Hundreds

    of Questions flooded his mind. The gate, the things beyond the gate,

    chosen one and the Immortal Divide stayed in his mind.

    Stark

    shook his head in frustration.

    He

    was confused¡ªand the scared of the unknown.

    After

    a few hours of rest, Stark set out to hunt. The devil remained in his

    study, engrossed in something. Stark had caught glimpses of Krul

    scribbling furiously on sheets of paper, but he didn¡¯t

    bother to ask what it was. Whatever it was, Stark doubted he would

    understand it anyway.

    Instead,

    he focused on the task at hand: hunting down some Stilos in the

    region.

    Krul

    had instructed him about the areas where Stilos were most commonly

    found. Armed with his gear¡ªa raggedy leather armor, a few daggers,

    a butcher knife, and his trusty metal sword¡ªStark headed out. The

    sword had become a reliable companion over time.

    Hunting

    the Stilos had grown easier for him. They moved in groups, but Stark

    had developed a simple and effective tactic to pick them off. He

    targeted the stragglers, the ones lagging behind. Separating them

    from their pack proved to be easier than he expected.

    Occasionally,

    two Stilos fell for his ploy, but Stark was capable enough to handle

    such situations.

    ¡°This

    is a good hunt,¡± Stark muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

    After

    killing the Stilo, Stark began preparing the meat. He severed its

    head and limbs first, then sliced open its belly, carefully chopping

    the crimson meat into small chunks. Once he had enough to fill the

    entire leather backpack, he hoisted it over his shoulders and began

    the trek back to the cave.

    The

    dry wind was heavy, stinging his skin as he walked. The air was thick

    with dust, that limited his visibility. The desert stretched

    endlessly around him, without any signs of life.

    The

    cave lay hidden in the middle of a mesa, concealed by the dusty air.

    Reaching it was no easy task¡ªStark had to climb the rock face with

    the weight of the backpack slowing him down. Gritting his teeth, he

    made his way upward.

    ¡°Finally.¡±

    Stark put the leather backpack down. Patting down the sand from the

    journey.

    Just

    then, Krul emerged from his study, his long hair tied neatly in a

    ponytail. He raised an eyebrow at Stark.

    ¡°You¡¯re

    early today, child.¡±

    ¡°I

    just couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± Stark replied, removing his armor and

    daggers before setting them aside. Exhausted from the trek, he sank

    to the ground with a heavy sigh.

    Krul

    studied him for a moment, then nodded. ¡°Hmm...

    I shall cook today.¡±

    ¡°Huh?

    What?¡± Stark looked up in surprise.

    ¡°You

    seem out of your mind, child,¡± Krul remarked. ¡°And the last

    time...¡±

    Stark

    winced, scratching the back of his head with an awkward smile. ¡°Uh...

    yeah...¡±

    The

    memory was fresh¡ªhe had set the cooking area on fire, charred the

    meat into charcoal, and added so many ingredients that the soup was

    inedible. It had been a disaster, a true trial by fire in the art of

    cooking.

    Stark

    watched as Krul picked up the freshly-cut meat and headed to the

    cooking area.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡±

    He called out. Stark pointed at the red mark on his chest. ¡°can you

    take a look at this mark¡±

    Krul

    glanced back.

    ¡°What

    mark?¡± He asked with a puzzled expression.

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes widened. ¡°Nothing¡­I must be imagining things. Sorry.¡±

    With

    a sigh, he turned to his equipment. He unsheathed his sword and

    grabbed a cloth from the stand, wiping off the blood on both his

    blade and butcher knife.

    Taking

    care of one¡¯s

    tools was one of Krul¡¯s lessons. Stark wiped, ensuring every spot

    was clean. Once satisfied, he held the blade up to the faint light

    peeking through the dusty wind. The clean surface shined faintly.

    With

    a nod, Stark sheathed his sword and set the cloth aside.

    Later,

    Krul brought over a steaming bowl of Stilo meat stew. Stark, hungry

    from the hunt, dug in heartily, savoring each bite.

    ¡°So,

    Krul,¡± he called to the devil between mouthfuls, ¡°what was that

    beast we saw yesterday?¡±

    Krul

    raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°The

    one that attacked after my fight,¡± Stark clarified.

    ¡°Oh...

    the corrupted ones,¡± Krul replied with a nod.

    ¡°Corrupted?¡±

    ¡°Yes.

    Those don¡¯t have a collective name,¡± Krul explained. ¡°Maybe

    humans have named them, but I don¡¯t recall.¡±

    ¡°You

    call them the corrupted ones? Why, though?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s

    exactly as it sounds¡ªthey are filled with corrupted souls,¡± Krul

    said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. ¡°They¡¯re rare creatures,

    nonetheless.¡±

    ¡°Corrupted

    souls? Does our soul look like that?¡± Stark asked, his curiosity

    growing.

    For

    Stark, Krul was a walking trove of ancient knowledge, and he never

    missed a chance to learn more about the world.

    ¡°No,

    no, child. Souls are insubstantial,¡± Krul shook his head. ¡°You

    might ask how they¡¯re made, then. There are those who can

    manipulate the souls of the dead¡ªthey derive their power from the

    misery and contempt lingering.¡±

    ¡°They

    inject these corrupted souls into inanimate objects, turning them

    into a rampaging beast.¡±

    ¡°So,

    those are the corrupted ones?¡± Stark asked, trying to piece it all

    together.

    Krul

    nodded thoughtfully.

    ¡°How

    do you defeat them?¡±

    ¡°It

    varies for each one,¡± Krul explained. ¡°You must find their Soul

    Point and destroy it. That is their weakness.¡±

    ¡°I

    see,¡± Stark said, finishing his bowl of stew and setting it down.

    Krul¡¯s

    face twisted into a smirk.

    ¡°Regarding

    your training,¡± he began, ¡°I will be moving it up a notch,

    child.¡±

    ¡°Eh?

    Moving up?¡± Stark asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°Yes,¡±

    Krul replied with a amused look. ¡°You will face much tougher

    enemies starting tomorrow, We need to sharpen those skills of yours.¡±

 Chapter 13 - Vivy and Group

    ¡°Whoa¡­

    so many dead bodies,¡± a petite, dark-haired girl said playfully,

    squatting nearby poking at the scattered bones.

    ¡°Lady

    Vivy, we are here to investigate,¡± said a tall, bearded man in

    light gray armor and a blue cape. His hair was swept back, and he

    carried a peculiar spear in hand.

    ¡°I

    know that much, Drek.¡± She pouted

    Behind

    Drek stood three others.

    ¡°Did

    that border bastard really send us here?¡± spat a tall woman with

    long brown hair. She wore dark, chunky armor that looked like it had

    seen its fair share of battles.

    ¡°Miss

    Thalia, please don¡¯t insult Mr. Stain,¡± said a male priest in

    black and white robes, his tone calm.

    ¡°What

    do you know about that bastard, eh, Wez?¡± Thalia shot back, resting

    her war hammer on the loose sand with a thud.

    ¡°Nathan,

    is this the location?¡± Vivy asked, her expression playful.

    ¡°Yes,

    Lady Vivy,¡± confirmed Nathan, the tracer, holding a stone

    apparatus.

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    Vivy began skipping across the battlefield carefree, despite the grim

    scene. Drek followed closely behind like a silent bodyguard.

    Bones

    of slaves and bone-eaters poked out of the sand, the remnants of the

    conflict. An acidic stench lingered in the air, and the desert

    scavengers had picked away at all the remaining rotting flesh.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t

    Stain say one slave was missing?¡± Vivy asked, tilting her head as

    she surveyed the scene.

    ¡°Yes,

    Lady Vivy,¡± Drek responded. ¡°And he mentioned signs of a second

    Elder bone-eater.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±

    Vivy hummed thoughtfully, crouching to examine the remains of the

    Elder bone-eater with her gloved hand.

    ¡°Stain

    suspects foul play¡ªsomeone else¡¯s involvement,¡± Drek explained.

    Vivy

    poked her finger into the sand and unearthed something next to a

    slave¡¯s

    corpse. Her fingers brushed against a thin frame.

    Her

    emerald eyes scanned the area around the body. Near the corpse, she

    noticed skull fragments¡ªsome crushed beyond recognition, while

    others remained intact.

    From

    the damage, Vivy deduced that the Elder bone-eater had crushed the

    slave¡¯s

    head. On the slave¡¯s wrist was a shackle with a chain attached, the

    other shackle at the end of the chain broken cleanly, as if sliced.

    Running

    her fingers along the metal links, she noticed a faint purple soot

    clinging to her glove. A smirk spread across her face.

    <i>I

    see</i><i>¡­

    that¡¯s the case,</i>

    she thought, her expression turning amused.

    Straightening

    up, Vivy brushed off her gloves and walked back to the group.

    Thalia

    and Wez were bickering loudly, while Nathan stood to the side,

    clutching the stone device awkwardly as he tried to focus.

    ¡°Nathan,

    do you sense any beings nearby?¡± Vivy asked with a bright smile.

    Startled,

    Nathan quickly checked the glowing runes on his device.

    ¡°No

    signs of life in the vicinity, Lady Vivy.¡±

    ¡°I

    see,¡± Vivy said, clasping her hands together. The sound echoed

    sharply across the desert, snapping everyone¡¯s attention toward

    her.

    Thalia

    and Wez ceased their argument and turned to face Vivy, while Nathan

    shifted uncomfortably.

    ¡°I¡¯ve

    made some important findings,¡± Vivy announced with a toothy grin.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t just a case of single interference.¡±

    Her

    grin widened as she raised two fingers.

    ¡°There

    are <i>two</i>

    interferences.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Two?¡±

    Thalia asked, narrowing her eyes. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s

    start with the location,¡± Vivy said, gesturing toward Thalia.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you find it odd that there are monsters on this path?¡±

    ¡°Yes,

    but cases like this, though rare, have happened in the past,¡± Wez

    chimed in.

    ¡°But

    these bone-eaters aren¡¯t from here,¡± Vivy explained, a smile

    playing on her lips. ¡°They¡¯re from the west. Their bones are a

    bit longer.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Nathan looked puzzled. ¡°Longer bones? I don¡¯t see any

    difference.¡±

    ¡°Of

    course you don¡¯t,¡± Vivy said, turning to him with a playful

    expression. ¡°Most wouldn¡¯t notice. But the bone-eaters from the

    west of the Sands of Zaras¡¯th have noticeably longer arm and leg

    bones.¡±

    ¡°Why

    is that?¡± Thalia looked skeptical.

    ¡°It¡¯s

    likely because they fight more beasts in the west. Their bodies adapt

    to the harsher environment,¡± Vivy explained.

    Drek

    frowned ¡°So,

    Lady Vivy, are you saying someone brought two Elder bone-eaters from

    the west to attack the Squire?¡±

    ¡°Exactly,

    Drek,¡± Vivy said with a nod. ¡°I¡¯ve also detected faint traces

    of magic on the bone-eaters.¡±

    ¡°What

    about the other interference?¡± Thalia asked, shifting her weight

    uncomfortably.

    Vivy¡¯s

    smile vanished, her expression growing serious. ¡°That¡¯s a much

    bigger problem,¡± she said.

    ¡°What

    do you mean?¡± Wez asked cautiously.

    ¡°I

    don¡¯t know who killed the second Elder bone-eater,¡± Vivy

    admitted.

    ¡°Killed?¡±

    ¡°Yes.

    The second Elder bone-eater wasn¡¯t just defeated. It was killed and

    reduced to ashes,¡± Vivy said grimly.

    Wez

    studied her carefully. ¡°You

    seem to have some idea, Lady Vivy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m

    not... too sure,¡± Vivy said hesitantly. ¡°But it¡¯s clear we¡¯ll

    need more time to track them.¡±

    Drek

    asked, ¡°Should

    we call for knights from the estate, Lady Vivy?¡±

    ¡°Yes,

    and tell them to bring the Chains of Submission,¡± Vivy said firmly.

    Everyone¡¯s

    eyes widened at her request. The Chains of Submission were a powerful

    relic belonging to Vivy¡¯s noble family, passed down to the family

    heir since the Mythical Era.

    ¡°Chains

    of Submission? Are you saying the threat is at that level?¡± Thalia

    asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

    ¡°Yes,¡±

    Vivy admitted without hesitation.

    She

    called Nathan and Wez aside, lowering her voice. ¡°There

    is a slave missing. I need you both to track him down.¡±

    ¡°Track?

    Using the Slave Seal?¡± Wez asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡±

    Vivy confirmed, before turning to Nathan. ¡°Nathan, can you look

    into something right now?¡±

    ¡°Of

    course, as you command, Lady Vivy,¡± Nathan said with a nod.

    She

    handed him her glove, which had faint traces of purple soot on it.

    Vivy could sense magical energy emanating from the soot but lacked

    the skill to identify or trace it. Nathan, however, specialized in

    such tasks.

    Taking

    the glove, Nathan placed it on his stone device and activated the

    glowing glyphs. The device emitted a faint hum, but suddenly, Nathan

    shivered violently. His face contorted in pain as the device slipped

    from his grasp, landing softly in the loose sand.

    ¡°What

    happened?¡± Vivy asked, her voice sharp with concern.

    ¡°Barriers!¡±

    Nathan gasped, clutching his head. ¡°Damn it! My head is spinning!¡±

    Wez

    stepped forward, clutching the long blue gemstone on his bracelet.

    ¡°By

    the grace of Lord Zaras¡¯th, grant me the power to heal this man¡¯s

    pain and relieve him of his suffering.¡±

    A

    soothing light-blue aura enveloped Nathan, and moments later, his

    pained expression relaxed.

    Nathan

    finally stabilized and stood, still wincing from the aftereffects.

    ¡°What

    did you see?¡± Vivy asked, her concern evident.

    ¡°Multiple

    barriers¡ªanti-tracking ones,¡± Nathan explained, rubbing his

    temple.

    ¡°Barriers?

    So someone who came here set them up?¡±

    ¡°Yes,

    Lady Vivy. And these aren¡¯t your standard barriers,¡± Nathan

    sighed. ¡°They¡¯re complex.¡±

    Gears

    turned in Vivy¡¯s

    mind.

    ¡°Can

    you examine the barrier again, Nathan?¡± she asked after a pause.

    ¡°Wez will cast healing magic on you continuously.¡±

    Nathan

    hesitated but eventually nodded, seeing her serious gaze. ¡°Yes,

    my lady.¡±

    Wez

    also nodded thoughtfully, gripping the blue gemstone on his bracelet.

    Divine

    magic was fundamentally different from ordinary magic.

    It

    was a miracle bestowed upon priests through unwavering devotion to

    their deity. Unlike regular magic, it didn¡¯t

    consume mana but instead drained a significant amount of stamina,

    especially when cast repeatedly.

    Divine

    magic was primarily used for healing and cleansing. It needed a medium to cast, which was different for

    different deities. For Wez, the medium of divine magic was the

    gemstone on his bracelet.

    Once

    Nathan was ready, he glanced at Wez and gave a nod.

    Wez

    murmured a brief prayer, casting his healing magic. A warm, blue aura

    enveloped Nathan, bolstering him. With a focused expression, Nathan

    activated his stone device, its runes glowing faintly as he began

    inspecting the barrier.

    He

    began to inspect the source of the magic energy from the glove. It

    was promptly blocked by the complex barrier. Sweat dripped down his

    face as he concentrated, his breathing growing ragged from the

    exhaustion of analyzing the barrier¡¯s

    outer layers.

    After

    what felt like an eternity, Nathan¡¯s

    knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the sand.

    The

    stone device rolled toward Vivy, who had been waiting patiently for

    her answer.

    She

    picked it up, her sharp gaze fixed on Nathan as he struggled to catch

    his breath.

    ¡°Lady

    Vivy, the barrier isn¡¯t just complex¡ªit¡¯s in an ancient

    language,¡± Nathan huffed between heavy breaths.

    ¡°Ancient?¡±

    Vivy¡¯s brows furrowed.

    ¡°The

    barrier is constructed using Biyin glyphs,¡± Nathan explained. ¡°I

    have no idea who created it, but it¡¯s the work of a master.¡±

    ¡°Moreover,

    there are three layers.¡±

    <i>Biyin,

    eh?</i>

    Vivy thought, a spark of recognition lit up in her mind. <i>I

    think I have an idea.</i>

    ¡°Can

    you decipher and break the barrier?¡± she asked.

    Nathan

    glanced down at his stone device. ¡°Maybe,

    but I¡¯d need better equipment and a significant amount of time.¡±

    ¡°How

    much time are we talking about?¡± Vivy asked, her eyes narrowing.

    ¡°At

    least a month,¡± Nathan admitted reluctantly.

    Vivy

    nodded. ¡°Alright,

    get to the bottom of this quickly.¡±

 Chapter 14 - Almost Dead

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±

    Stark spat blood from his mouth.

    His

    body was riddled with scratches and wounds, blood and sweat mixing as

    they dripped onto the white sands. Despite the pain, he kept his grip

    tight on the sword.

    He

    was facing a new beast this time.

    The

    beast hissed, its dark eyes fixed on him. It stood on four legs, its

    dark fur glistening under the harsh sunlight. Two small, dark horns

    poked out of its head, and its spine protruded out from its back like

    spikes.

    It

    was a desert Guki.

    Unlike

    the Stilo, its attacks weren¡¯t

    particularly strong, but they were precise and deadly. Its sharp

    claws had already left gashes on Stark¡¯s skin.

    <i>I

    need to find a way to attack.</i>

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes darted around, scanning the surroundings for an opening.

    The

    Guki screeched and lunged at him.

    It

    was far more agile and quicker than the Stilo. Stark raised his sword

    over his head, blocking its swipe. He shifted his weight to the side,

    redirecting the beast and throwing it off balance.

    The

    Guki quickly turned and charged again, spearheading toward Stark with

    ferocious speed. It collided with him, forcing him back several feet.

    Fortunately, Stark managed to lift his leg just in time, absorbing

    most of the impact.

    Stark¡¯s

    wounds hissed as wisps of smoke rose from them.

    The

    Guki¡¯s

    claws were laced with poison, but as a nocturnal hunter, its venom

    wasn¡¯t potent in the sunlight. The heat evaporated the toxin within

    seconds, leaving only the gashes behind.

    Gukis

    were rarely seen during the day, but Krul had captured one

    specifically to serve as a test for Stark. Daylight was the safest

    time to train against them, as the poison wouldn¡¯t

    spread and threaten Stark¡¯s life.

    Stark

    charged at the beast, swinging his sword low toward its legs. The

    Guki darted back, easily dodging the strike.

    Stark

    flicked his wrist, redirecting the blade into an upward slash. The

    edge missed by a hair¡¯s

    breadth as the Guki leapt back, creating more distance between them.

    The

    beast began circling him, its speed increasing. It darted to the

    side, accelerating as it used its agility to its advantage.

    Stark

    stood his ground, gripping his sword tightly, focusing on his senses.

    <i>Listen</i><i>¡­

    Listen¡­ Feel its movements.</i>

    A

    blur of motion came from behind as the Guki swiped its claw at his

    neck. He could feel it. Stark stepped aside just in time, the attack

    grazing his cheek and leaving a thin line.

    In

    the same instant, he swung his sword downward quickly.

    But

    the blade struck the Guki¡¯s

    spiked back, but the impact rocked Stark¡¯s grip. The blade

    recoiled, sending a shiver through his entire body.

    Stark

    clicked his tongue in frustration as he stepped back. ¡°I

    missed again.¡±

    The

    Guki was relentless, pressing its advantage. Stark defended as best

    he could, but his injuries were piling up, and the blood loss was

    taking its toll. He needed to find an opening to end the fight.

    The

    Guki charged at him, and Stark raised his sword, anticipating another

    swipe. But the creature darted to the side and lunged, sinking its

    large canines into his left shoulder.

    ¡°ARGH!¡±

    he screamed in pain.

    The

    fangs pierced through his leather armor, clamping down tightly. The

    Guki shook its head violently, its strength sending Stark flying.

    He

    hit the ground hard, bouncing like a rag doll before landing in the

    sand. His head struck the ground with a sickening thud, leaving a

    gash that spilled blood across his forehead. Blood poured from the

    wound in his shoulder, dripping steadily down his arm.

    Gritting

    his teeth, Stark forced himself to his feet. He picked up his sword

    with his right hand, gripping it tightly despite the pain, and

    pointed it at the hissing Guki.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    The

    beast crouched low, ready to strike again.

    <i>One

    chance</i><i>¡­

    focus¡­ Stark.</i>

    Blood

    began to dull his vision, his breathing growing ragged. His legs

    trembled, running out of strength. Yet, the fire in his heart never

    faltered.

    The

    Guki stepped forward, hissing, its dark eyes gleaming with

    confidence. It knew Stark was at the end of his rope.

    <i>I

    will win</i><i>¡­</i>

    Clenching

    his jaw, Stark let out a roar and charged at the Guki. If there was

    no opening, he would create one. His eyes locked onto the beast, his

    mind working in overdrive.

    Startled

    by the sudden charge, the Guki stepped back. It was unusual for prey

    to fight so ferociously on the brink of death.

    It

    tried to retreat, but Stark was faster. Closing the distance, he

    stepped into range and thrust his blade at its face. The Guki

    deflected the strike with its claws, sparks flying from the impact.

    Stark

    didn¡¯t

    relent. With the momentum on his side, he spun and swung his sword,

    the blade slicing deep into the beast¡¯s side. The Guki let out a

    blood-curdling screech and retaliated, swiping its claws toward

    Stark. He blocked the strike with his blade but was pushed back by

    the force.

    Not

    giving the beast a chance to recover, Stark charged again. This time,

    the Guki was ready. It sidestepped his swing and sank its teeth into

    his injured shoulder once more.

    Instead

    of pulling away, Stark shoved his arm deeper into its jaws, gritting

    his teeth through the pain. The Guki shook its head violently, trying

    to throw him off, but Stark stayed focused.

    With

    his free hand, he raised his sword and drove it into the beast¡¯s

    eye.

    ¡°SCREECH!!¡±

    The

    blade pierced through through the soft eyelids of the beast, leaving

    it blind.

    The

    Guki thrashed, trying to break free, but Stark held on. Wrapping his

    legs around its neck, he roared defiantly and kept stabbing its face.

    ¡°Die¡­

    Die¡­ Die, you dirty mutt!¡± he bellowed.

    Blood

    splattered with each stab. Stark¡¯s

    vision was red; all he could think about was the opponent before him.

    He wanted to kill the beast at all costs. The red mark on his chest

    turned burning hot.

    Something

    stirred within him; the blood and the screech of the beast brought a

    smile to his face. A feeling so primal that brought him satisfaction.

    Stark¡¯s

    consciousness was fading and being replaced with this primal feeling.

    <i>This

    is it</i><i>¡­.Ah¡­.Bliss¡­.Blood¡­Slaughter.

    </i>

    The

    mark began to spread through his veins to different parts as he began

    to lose control over his own body.

    The

    Guki thrashed wildly, and a blade struck its jaw, knocking it from

    Stark¡¯s

    grip.

    Undeterred,

    he clenched his fist and began pounding into the beast¡¯s

    stab wounds. Each punch drove deeper into the already mangled flesh,

    spraying blood.

    <i>AHAHAHA!!!

    SCREECH!! FOR YOUR LIFE! YOU DIRTY MUTT.</i>

    Power

    rose inside him with each punch.

    The

    Guki¡¯s

    violent thrashing gradually subsided under Stark¡¯s relentless

    assault. Finally, with one last ragged breath, the beast collapsed

    onto its side, its body going numb. Its jaws loosened, releasing

    Stark¡¯s badly torn and bleeding shoulder.

    Stark

    swayed, his vision returned but blurring. Exhaustion overtook him,

    and he collapsed onto the beast¡¯s

    lifeless body. The red mark stopped spreading and retraced back to

    it¡¯s original place.

    ¡°I

    did it¡­.¡±

    He mumbled incoherently.

    The

    world around him faded to black.

    Krul

    descended from the sky swiftly, his eyes scanning Stark¡¯s

    horrible wounds.

    ¡°His

    wounds are worse than I expected,¡± Krul muttered. ¡°I should have

    stopped him sooner.¡±

    He

    carved <b>Sacrifice</b>

    into the flesh of Stark¡¯s

    shoulder wound. Blood-red chains materialized and began wrapping

    tightly around the injury. The chains writhed as if alive, hissing

    and darting at Krul¡¯s hands like serpents.

    The

    red chains crept up his arms, slithering to his shoulders, wrapping it

    wholly. The chains tightened.

    <b>SPLATTER</b>

    Krul¡¯s

    arm tore apart, crushed to bits. Flesh and blood sprayed as the

    chains greedily consumed his blood and flesh.

    A

    red flash followed, and the chains around Stark¡¯s

    shoulder began to loosen. In moments, his shoulder returned to its

    original, uninjured state.

    ¡°Now

    it¡¯s fine,¡± Krul sighed, touching Stark¡¯s shoulder.

    Krul

    couldn¡¯t

    help but marvel at Stark¡¯s tenacity¡ªhis will to win the fight

    even at the cost of his own arm. Despite this, doubt lingered in

    Krul¡¯s mind.

    <i>He

    suddenly becomes much stronger,</i>

    Krul thought. <i>It</i><i>¡¯s

    quite odd... and his healing capacity is extraordinary for a human.</i>

    Knowing

    Stark¡¯s

    shoulder would have been beyond saving in seconds, Krul had willingly

    sacrificed his arm.

    For

    an ancient devil, regrowing an arm or two was not a significant

    concern, though the mana cost was immense.

    With

    a calm expression, Krul cast <b>Life.</b>

    The wound on his shoulder began to close as bones sprouted and

    extended, forming the skeletal structure of his arm. Muscles grew

    next, wrapping around the bones, followed by layers of tissue that

    covered the frame. Finally, his bluish skin spread over the newly

    formed arm.

    His

    arm was restored, flawless and unscathed.

    Afterward,

    Krul mended the rest of Stark¡¯s

    wounds with a healing spell and picked him up.

    As

    he flew back to the cave, he hunted down a few Stilos to prepare food

    for Stark when he woke up.

    <i>The

    human child enjoys this,</i>

    Krul thought as he carried the meat.

    On

    his way back, a sudden wave of bloodlust swept over him. Krul halted

    mid-flight, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.

    <b>Detection.</b>

    He

    cast the spell, but it revealed nothing apart from a few wild beasts

    in the vicinity. Frowning, Krul double-checked, but still found no

    signs of anyone nearby.

    <i>Was

    it just me?</i>

    Krul wondered. <i>I</i><i>¡¯m

    certain I felt something.</i>

    His

    brows furrowed as unease settled over him.

    <i>Perhaps

    I used too much mana today.</i>

    The

    ominous feeling gnawed at him.

    ¡°It

    must be nothing. I¡¯m probably overthinking,¡± he muttered,

    shaking off the thought as he continued his flight back home.

 Chapter 15 - Hunt [1]

    Stark

    jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. His breath came in gasps as he

    clutched his shoulder¡ªThankfully,

    it was still intact. He quickly scanned his surroundings and realized

    he was back in the cave, lying in his room.

    Yet,

    he couldn¡¯t

    shake off the uncanny feeling from his fight with the Guki. His hands

    still trembled as memories of the battle still fresh in his mind.

    ¡°What

    was that?¡± he muttered in an unsteady tone. He couldn¡¯t

    understand the sudden surge of power and blood lust that over took

    him during the fight.

    <i>Is

    it related to that black figure?</i>

    His

    suspicions deepened. He knew his nightmares weren¡¯t

    normal, but he didn¡¯t anticipate such a radical change in himself.

    The encounter with that entity had to be some sort of a trigger.

    <i>Like

    the black figure said, the answer lies beyond the Immortal Divide.</i>

    A

    sharp pain shot through his head, breaking his thoughts.

    ¡°This

    again!¡± he hissed, gritting his teeth.

    He

    tried to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. He

    collapsed back onto the cold mattress, unable to muster any strength

    to stand up properly.

    Even

    clenching his fists felt impossible¡ªhis entire body was numb and

    out of his control.

    ¡°Don¡¯t

    move, child.¡±

    Krul¡¯s

    calm voice filled the room as he entered, carrying a bowl of stew.

    ¡°You¡¯re still recovering.¡±

    Stark

    glanced at him, noticing the subtle change in his appearance. Krul

    wasn¡¯t

    wearing his usual attire. Instead, he wore a dark tunic resembling

    leather armor, complete with shoulder pads. His long hair was tied

    back in a neat ponytail, giving him a much sharper look.

    ¡°Why

    can¡¯t I muster any strength?¡± Stark asked frustratingly.

    ¡°It¡¯s

    because you¡¯ve been asleep for the past three days,¡± Krul

    replied.

    Stark¡¯s

    stomach growled in the middle of their conversation.

    Krul

    smirked and handed him a bowl of stew along with a wooden spoon.

    ¡°Eat,¡±

    he instructed.

    Stark

    took a few spoonfuls, savoring the warmth as it soothed his empty

    stomach. It did taste oddly funny at times.

    Once

    he finished, he turned to Krul awkwardly.

    Without

    warning, Krul gently smacked him on the head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t

    ever do that in a battle,¡± he scolded.

    ¡°Fine¡­

    I won¡¯t do it,¡± Stark muttered with a pout.

    Krul¡¯s

    expression turned serious. ¡°There¡¯s no need to risk your life

    like that. This time, I was there to save you,¡± he said firmly ¡°But

    what if I wasn¡¯t? You would have bled to death.¡±

    Stark

    lowered his gaze. ¡°Yes¡­¡±

    ¡°Know

    your place,¡± Krul continued. ¡°Running away from a stronger

    opponent isn¡¯t shameful.¡±

    ¡°But

    isn¡¯t that cowardice?¡± Stark asked, frowning. ¡°The Hero Dalius

    wouldn¡¯t do that.¡±

    Krul

    let out a chuckle. ¡°Cowardice?

    A warrior is shaped by both victory and defeat. And death, Stark¡­

    death is the ultimate form of cowardice for a warrior.¡±

    ¡°And

    about Dalius, He ran away many times when faced with an enemy he

    couldn¡¯t defeat,¡± Krul said

    The

    way Krul spoke of Dalius was casual, as if he had known the legendary

    hero personally.

    Stark¡¯s

    mouth fell open. ¡°Wait¡­.What? But¡±

    Krul

    simply smiled, ruffling Stark¡¯s

    hair. ¡°Being afraid isn¡¯t a weakness. Learn from your fears, and

    they will guide you.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Stark

    just nodded.

    ¡°The

    Hero Dalius once said that <i>It

    was my fear that brought me this far.</i><i>¡±

    </i>

    ¡°How

    do you know that?¡±

    Stark asked curiously as he witnessed a tinge of nostalgia in Krul¡¯s

    voice.

    ¡°I

    just heard some stories over the years, Child.¡± Krul got up to

    leave. ¡°Take rest today, you will recover by tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Wait..how

    are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Medicine.¡±

    Krul smirked. ¡°I mixed it in the stew.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s

    why it tasted funny¡­¡± Stark mumbled.

    Time

    passed, and Stark recovered quickly. Taking Krul¡¯s

    advice to heart, he did his best not to recklessly risk his life.

    A

    few days later, Stark successfully subdued a Guki, defeating it with

    only minor scratches. He had learned to use his agility to his

    advantage.

    He

    observed that the Guki took a few seconds to come to a complete stop

    after a full sprint. Stark capitalized on this brief moment, focusing

    all his senses on predicting its movement. Unlike the Stilo, which

    was more durable, the Guki had a fragile body, relying on its poison

    and speed to overwhelm its prey.

    However,

    defeating a Guki in daylight wasn¡¯t

    a remarkable feat. They were nocturnal hunters, and true victory

    meant facing one in its own hunting grounds¡ªat night.

    Fighting

    a Guki at night was a <i>suicidal

    mission</i>,

    but Stark saw it as a wall to overcome on his path to greater

    strength.

    His

    first night time battle with the Guki was <i>hell</i>

    on

    earth. He had never experienced such excruciating pain as the beast¡¯s

    venom spread through his body, hissing and eating away at his flesh.

    His legs went numb, his muscles lost all strength, and he became easy

    prey.

    Krul

    saved him just in time, healing his wounds swiftly.

    <i>I</i><i>¡¯m

    relying on my eyes too much¡­</i>

    Realizing

    this weakness, Stark decided that he needed to sense the Guki with

    more than just sight. He trained himself to detect the beast based on

    sound, touch, and even its blood lust.

    On

    the second night, he managed to wound the Guki before falling to the

    poison again.

    This

    time, however, he noticed something crucial¡ªthe Guki struggled to

    change direction at high speeds. Just as it needed time to stop, its

    momentum made it difficult to turn mid-attack.

    This

    flaw meant that by studying its attack patterns, he could use its own

    speed against it.

    If

    he swung his blade precisely in the opposite direction of the Guki

    attacks. It had no way to dodge it. The beast would run itself into

    his attack and he could guarantee a successful strike.

    Stark

    focused on exploiting the beast¡¯s

    flaw. He relied on his senses, predicting its movements and striking

    precisely at its legs to limit its attacks. As its agility and

    acceleration dwindled, the beast¡¯s range of movement narrowed,

    making it easier to track.

    Dodging

    the Guki¡¯s

    poison claws was another challenge. A single scratch would leave him

    writhing in pain, the affected limb useless for the rest of the

    fight. He could anticipate its attacks, but his body lagged behind

    his instincts, reacting a fraction too late.

    But

    time changed that.

    Stark

    got used to dodging and his battle senses, reflexes got much quicker

    and efficient. For the first time he also managed to take down a Guki

    at night.

    A

    wave of bliss crashed over him. The sheer sense of achievement was

    overwhelming. Stark was on top of the world. The time and effort it

    took to take down a single desert Guki was excruciatingly long and it

    was worth every second.

    ¡°You

    did well,¡± Krul praised.

    Stark

    let out a breathless laugh, exhaustion washing over him.

    ¡°Finally,

    your basics are solid.¡±

    ¡°Basics?¡±

    ¡°The

    foundation of martial arts and swordsmanship has been laid,¡± Krul

    remarked.

    Throughout

    his training, Stark experimented with different swords, switching

    from a longsword to an arming sword before finally settling on a

    broadsword. It felt natural in his grip, as if made for him.

    Its

    basket hilt protected his hands, allowing for precise cuts and

    thrusts at flexible angles. The blade itself was sharp and pointed,

    and its versatility let him wield an offhand weapon like a dagger or

    a wooden shield.

    Krul

    noticed Stark¡¯s

    serious expression. ¡°Something on your mind, child?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­

    yeah.¡± Stark hesitated before meeting Krul¡¯s gaze. ¡°What¡¯s

    the next stage of training?¡±

    ¡°The

    next level, huh¡­¡± Krul scratched his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Nothing

    I can teach you. As I said before, I¡¯m a mage, not a swordsman.

    Learning from me could cause irreparable flaws in your technique.¡±

    Stark

    sighed, looking dejected. ¡°Right¡­¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    Krul smirked. ¡°There is something you can do to improve.¡±

    ¡°And

    that is?¡±

    ¡°Fight

    stronger monsters. The more you battle, the sharper your instincts

    will become.¡±

    Stark

    nodded, agreeing to fight stronger monsters in the future. As they

    headed back to the cave, he felt oddly at home there. Krul had given

    him more than he could have ever imagined back at the slave camp.

    He

    often wondered why Krul had taken him under his wing. And now, he

    wanted to ask about the Immortal Divide¡ªthe name mentioned by the

    creature in his dreams.

    After

    reaching the cave, Stark settled down. He turned to Krul, who was in

    the middle of unstrapping the daggers from his chest piece.

    ¡°By

    the way¡­ Teacher.¡±

    For

    the first time, Stark referred to Krul as his teacher. After all He

    was the first person to teach him how to fight. He not only learned

    martial arts but also was taught to read and write in Kastari.

    Krul¡¯s

    eyes widened for a moment before he smiled¡ªwarmly, unlike his usual

    cold smirk.

    ¡°Do

    you know about the Immortal Divide?¡± Stark asked.

    Krul

    thought for a moment. ¡°Yes,

    I do.¡±

    <i>So

    it</i><i>¡¯s

    real?!! Huh!!!</i>

    Stark thought.

    ¡°Where

    is it?¡± he stammered, his voice rising in pitch.

    Krul

    was taken aback for a moment. ¡°Hmm¡­

    It is in the n¡ª¡±

    Before

    he could finish, a golden light erupted from Stark¡¯s

    chest, from the exact spot where his slave mark had been.

    It

    burned, shining so intensely that both of them were momentarily

    blinded.

    ¡°What

    the¡ª¡° He cursed aloud.

    Stark

    barely had time to react before he heard Krul shout.

    ¡°GET

    BEHIND ME RIGHT NOW.¡±

    Stark

    stumbled towards Krul just as the cave shuddered violently. A ray of

    light shot towards the cave with a shrill noise and the rocks beside

    him disintegrated.

    An

    instant later, the cave exploded into a sea of flames.

 Chapter 16 - Hunt [2]

    The

    only thing left of the cave was the ground beneath them. The rest had

    erupted in a sea of flames.

    Stark

    watched as a spherical barrier enclosed both him and Krul, shielding

    them from the attacks. The slave mark on his chest still glowed.

    <i>Is

    this the reason??!</i>

    he thought.

    Smoke

    filled the air. Krul¡¯s

    eyes scanned the surroundings, his expression tense.

    Stark

    gripped his sword, ready to fight.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡±

    Krul ordered. ¡°Stay put.¡±

    The

    barrier remained intact as Krul assessed the situation.

    Just

    then, an armored woman emerged from the haze, a crazed smile on her

    face.

    ¡°Oi,

    you devil¡­ Here¡¯s a greeting from me.¡± Thalia smirked

    She

    swung her war hammer down onto the top of the barrier.

    <b>BOOM!</b>

    The

    impact roared like a thunder strike, but the barrier held firm.

    However,

    the ground beneath them cracked and collapsed under the shock wave.

    Thalia

    used

    the barrier as leverage, twisting midair before striking again.

    This

    time, the force sent them hurtling downward.

    Krul¡¯s

    barrier held strong, keeping them unharmed. But Stark could see it in

    his face¡ªthat the woman was strong as hell.

    Krul

    didn¡¯t

    speak. Instead, he summoned a sword from thin air with a spell.

    The

    smoke residue cleared, revealing their predicament.

    They

    were surrounded on three sides, their backs to the cliff¡¯s

    edge.

    Stark¡¯s

    grip tightened on his sword as he scanned the enemy forces¡ªeach

    armored warrior looked stronger than him.

    The

    war hammer-wielding woman walked towards her comrades with casual

    confidence.

    At

    the front of the group, a petite woman stood with a commanding

    presence. Beside her, stood Drek holding his peculiar weapon - it was

    a double bladed staff, it¡¯s

    blades crooked upwards in one direction and downward in the other.

    Krul

    raised a brow, his voice cold.

    ¡°Who

    are you?¡±

    The

    barrier remained intact, but the tension thickened.

    The

    petite woman smiled.

    ¡°I

    am Vivy Kolbrone, heiress of the Kolbrone family. It is an honor to

    meet a legendary figure such as the Devil of Kastar¡­¡± Her eyes

    glinted with amusement. ¡°Or perhaps, the Last of the Forsaken.¡±

    Krul¡¯s

    gaze darkened.

    ¡°You¡­¡±

    he spat

    Krul

    pointed his palm at the woman. The glyph on his palms pulsed.

    <b>Evil

    Blade.</b>

    A

    hole formed in the barrier, and a dark purple blade shot toward Vivy

    instantly¡ªno magic circle, no cast time.

    Yet,

    the attack passed straight through her, disintegrating everything in

    its path.

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes widened. He had seen her body severed¡ªyet no blood was

    spilled. The upper body simply floated in the air. The pieces melded

    back together, as if the wound had never existed.

    Vivy

    smirked. ¡°Your

    attacks won¡¯t work on me, Mr. Devil.

    Krul¡¯s

    eyes narrowed.

    ¡°An

    illusion, huh¡­¡±

    He

    used <b>Expel.</b>

    A

    burst of light cracked through the air, splitting the very sky like

    shattered glass.

    Stark

    stared in disbelief as the world around him itself fractured,

    revealing the true battlefield hidden beneath.

    Vivy

    chuckled. ¡°Ho.

    I didn¡¯t expect you to break it so soon.¡±

    Turns

    out, they were nowhere near the cave. Instead, they stood in the

    middle of a vast desert, surrounded by artificial buttes¡ªnarrow,

    steep rock formations.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    On

    them, stood few Cloaked men with a fierce expression.

    ¡°Devil¡­

    why don¡¯t you just surrender?¡± Wez sneered. ¡°By the grace of

    Lord Zaras¡¯th, we shall grant you a quick death.¡±

    Krul

    scoffed. ¡°Zaras¡¯th¡¯s

    lapdogs, huh? No wonder you reek of delusion.¡±

    Wez¡¯s

    replied in fury. ¡°You arrogant devil¡­ you are still bound by Lord

    Zaras¡¯th¡¯s curse!¡±

    The

    Curse of Zaras¡¯th.

    A

    shackle forged onto Krul in the Mythical Era, when the God himself

    cursed the Ancient Devil¡ªbinding him to the sands of Kastar,

    stripping him of the strength that he once possessed.

    Emboldened

    by his weakened state, followers of Zaras¡¯th

    had tried their best to kill him and yet¡ªnone had succeeded.

    <i>Priests,

    Magus, and Knights</i><i>¡­

    That war-hammer woman and that spear-wielding knight look strong.

    These aren¡¯t your everyday fighters, </i>Krul

    thought, his eyes scanning the situation.

    "You

    bastards think bringing a few extra followers will give you an

    advantage?"

    Vivy

    smiled. "So, we can conclude that you fail to comply and

    surren¡ª"

    "Enough

    chitchat! Kill this filth!" A voice from above interrupted Vivy.

    "You¡¯re

    pretty impatient, old man Zarius," Vivy said, glancing up.

    Krul''s

    gaze met a familiar face¡ªone of the Three Grand Magus of Kastar,

    Zarius. He was among those who had led an extermination raid against

    Krul a decade ago.

    Zarius

    was an old Magus with extensive abilities, having risen to his

    stature as one of the five survivors of the Raid. Krul had destroyed

    both of Zarius¡¯

    eyes during that battle.

    "Zarius¡­"

    Krul looked up. "Still alive, huh? Did you come to die for real this

    time?"

    "You

    filthy devil. I shall kill you and take my revenge!"

    The

    old Magus floated in the air, the pulsing glyphs on his boots keeping

    him aloft.

    <i>Magic

    items, huh?</i>

    Krul observed. <i>Looks

    similar to my engraved glyphs, but the functionality</i><i>¡­

    it¡¯s much more versatile. Someone¡ªperhaps a genius¡ªis

    responsible for it. Last time, they didn¡¯t have it.</i>

    Krul

    didn¡¯t

    make the first move.

    "Enough¡­

    Begin," Vivy ordered.

    Immediately,

    the cloaked figures on the butte began to chant.

    "By

    the grace of Lord Zaras¡¯th,

    we humbly ask you to grant us the strength to fight the devil."

    The

    golden shackles on Krul¡¯s

    wrists glowed and turned red, further restricting his power. The

    cloaked figures were priests from the Temple of Zaras¡¯th¡ªhigh-ranking

    ones at that.

    Krul

    winced as his barrier trembled.

    For

    the first time, Stark noticed the shackles on Krul¡¯s

    wrists and gasped. ¡°What are those?¡±

    In

    an instant, Drek closed the distance, swinging his staff at the

    barrier. Though weakened, it held against his attack¡ªbut cracks

    began to form.

    <i>This

    is not good. I need to find a way</i><i>¡­

    </i>Krul

    could sense an isolation barrier cast over a wide area, preventing

    him from escaping.

    Both

    Drek and Thalia, along with several knights, charged at the barrier.

    With each strike, the cracks widened, and Krul¡¯s

    mana drained rapidly as he struggled to maintain the defense.

    From

    the corner of his eye, he spotted Zarius.

    <b>Fire

    Shot.</b>

    Just

    like Krul, there was no magic circle¡ªonly a beam of flames shooting

    straight at his barrier.

    Reacting

    instantly, Krul grabbed Stark and leaped back, forming a smaller new

    barrier in front to protect them from the blast.

    The

    beam sliced through his previous barrier like a sharp knife,

    exploding.

    Krul¡¯s

    expression changed. He was in a dire predicament. He needed to

    disrupt the priests¡¯ formation to remove the divine intervention.

    At the same time, he had to protect the human child¡ªStark wasn¡¯t

    capable of fighting against seasoned veterans who battled for their

    lives every day.

    "I

    have to use it¡­."

    <b>Forsaken

    Arts, 1st Form: Enlightened.</b>

    ¡°DISTANCE!!

    RETREAT!!¡± Vivy shouted.

    Noticing

    the glyphs, the knights¡ªincluding Thalia and Drek¡ªquickly stepped

    back.

    The

    weakened devil¡¯s

    demeanor shifted instantly. The air thickened with bloodlust, sending

    shivers down even the spines of veteran knights.

    A

    massive surge of purple aura engulfed Krul. His eyes glowed even

    brighter.

    ¡°Barrier!

    He¡¯s assumed his 1st form!¡± Zarius commanded his own Magus unit

    that he personally trained. ¡°This is where the fight begins.¡±

    Stark

    could sense the overwhelming shift in power. Krul¡¯s

    carefree nature had vanished. His gaze was razor-sharp, scanning

    every inch of the battlefield. Even from behind, Stark could feel

    Krul¡¯s eyes on him.

    Then,

    in a cold voice, Krul spoke.

    ¡°You

    filth¡­ begone.¡±

    <b>Evil

    Blade.</b>

    Unlike

    before, the purple blade shot forward at incomprehensible speed. It

    was much larger than the previous one yet far more mana-efficient.

    <b>Erdwehr</b>

    the Magus unit casted.

    The

    earth beneath them twisted and rose, forming two massive hands.

    Instead of facing the blade head-on, the rocky hands redirected the

    magic, deflecting it away.

    The

    purple blade was successfully deflected, crashing into the sand and

    leaving a massive, gaping hole. The sand quickly vaporized into

    nothingness upon impact.

    Krul

    glanced back at Stark and cast a cubical barrier around him, sealing

    him inside. Stark pressed his hands against the translucent wall, but

    he couldn¡¯t

    step through.

    ¡°What

    is this¡­?!¡± he demanded.

    ¡°For

    protection,¡± Krul replied, drawing his sword.

    Before

    the enemy could resume their assault, Krul charged forward, gripping

    his weapon tightly.

    In

    an Instant, he closed in at Thalia and swung his blade right at her

    neck.

    Drek

    intercepted, his staff grazing Krul¡¯s

    blade and deflecting it to the side.

    ¡°THALIA,

    FOCUS!¡± he shouted.

    Krul

    pivoted on his heel and drove a powerful kick toward Drek¡¯s

    gut. Drek barely managed to block with the metal shaft of his weapon,

    but the sheer force still sent him flying away.

    Thalia

    snapped out of her daze and attacked with her war hammer at Krul¡¯s

    side.

    The

    devil intercepted the strike, hooking the hammer by its throat and

    twisting it off-center. Then, with a swift motion, he grabbed Thalia

    by her hair and hurled her like a projectile.

    The

    armored woman went flying face-first into a massive sand dune,

    hundreds of feet away.

    Krul

    quickly shifted his gaze to the remaining knights, their faces frozen

    in fear. Two of their best Knights had been handled with ease¡ªtheir

    confidence began to crumble.

    Before

    they could react, Krul lunged. His sword thrust clean through one

    knight¡¯s

    helmet, piercing his skull in a single motion. Blood sprayed across

    the sand.

    At

    the same time, with his other hand, he unleashed <b>Zor</b>.

    A

    purple beam shot forward, tearing through the knight beside him. The

    beam burned a circular hole straight through his chest, spilling his

    organs onto the ground.

    Both

    bodies collapsed, lifeless.

    <i>Where

    is that petite woman?</i>

    Krul''s eyes darted across the battlefield.

    <b>Illusive Fog.</b>

    A

    thick cloud of smoke surged across the battlefield¡ªnot ordinary

    smoke, but something far more peculiar. Krul¡¯s

    detection spells failed, and his vision was completely gone.

    <i>What

    is this spell? </i>Krul

    used <b>Expel</b><i> I can''t expel it?? </i>

    ¡°EVERYONE

    REGROUP.¡± Vivy commanded through the chaos. "We need to fight together."

    Vivy couldn''t allow Krul to gain momentum and change the tides in the battle.

    <i>Just one chance.....once the chains of submissions are deployed he can''t resist.</i>

 Chapter 17 - Hunt [3]

    "Who

    are they?" Stark mumbled inside his protective barrier. He had

    never seen the devil this serious before. The enemies were

    strong¡ªStark could feel it. He knew Krul was stronger.

    <i>But

    would they really face him without a plan?</i>

    A

    sense of unease settled deep in his gut. Something about these

    attackers felt¡­

    wrong.

    "I¡¯ve

    become a burden, haven¡¯t I?" Stark exhaled sharply as thick

    smoke consumed the battlefield. Krul was consuming mana to protect

    him¡ªmana he should have been using to fight.

    <i>He

    can</i><i>¡¯t

    fight at his best while protecting me.</i>

    Stark

    gripped his sword tightly. I need to do something.

    Meanwhile,

    Krul stood still in the smoke. His senses were scrambled, his spells

    failing. This fog wasn¡¯t

    ordinary.

    "What

    kind of spell is this?" His sharp eyes scanned the foggy

    surroundings with a serious look. Footsteps of the knights echoed

    from all directions, yet he couldn¡¯t

    pinpoint a single presence.

    <i>An

    illusion? No. If that were the case, my Expel spell would have

    worked.</i>

    <b>Evil

    Blade.</b>

    Nothing.

    The spell just didn¡¯t

    materialize.

    <i>Interesting</i><i>¡­

    but why aren¡¯t they attacking?</i>

    He smirked. <i>Are

    they scared? Or</i><i>¡­

    are they unable to attack as well?</i>

    Krul

    cast <b>Evil

    Blade</b>

    again. This time, parts of the spell flickered to life before being

    snuffed out into nothingness.

    <i>Ah</i><i>...I

    see now.</i>

    A

    slow grin spread across his face. He understood the workings of the

    spell.

    "I

    have to admit, this is a genius way to utilize magic. But alas¡­"

    His

    glowing eyes narrowed.

    "You¡¯ve

    picked the wrong opponent, little girl."

    Vivy

    cast an anti-magic barrier around Krul first, then masked the entire

    barrier with thick fog. It was a clever way to use Magic and, at the

    same time, buy time for the knights to regroup.

    <i>Anti-magic

    barriers have its limitations.</i>

    There

    were two ways to break one. The first was to attack it from the

    outside¡ªthese barriers are fragile against offensive magic or

    direct force. The second was to overload it with more mana than it

    can suppress.

    Each

    barrier has a mana threshold. If the contained mana exceeds the

    threshold limit, the barrier would begin to crack from within and

    eventually disperse.

    Krul

    knew about this.

    Without

    hesitation, he began casting offensive spells inside the barrier. The

    fourth spell was barely complete when he heard it¡ªa sound like

    glass shattering.

    Crack.

    The

    fourth offensive spell materialized and crashed into the sand as the

    barrier broke into hundreds of pieces.

    <b>Expel.

    </b>Krul

    cast instantly, dispersing the illusory fog that clouded his vision.

    It worked this time and the battlefield was visible to him once

    again.

    The

    knights had regrouped, Drek and Thalia standing at the front, their

    weapons raised to attack him at a moment¡¯s

    notice.

    <i>Aura?

    </i>Krul

    clicked his tongue as he noticed the faint glow outlining their

    weapons. <i>No

    wonder they</i><i>¡¯re

    unscathed.</i>

    <i>At

    least they don</i><i>¡¯t

    have a Grandmaster in their ranks. </i>He

    thought.

    Vivy

    looked over at the devil and wiped the sweat from her brow. ¡°Shit¡­

    I didn¡¯t expect him to figure it out so quickly.¡±

    Within

    an instant, Krul cast <b>Zor</b>.

    A deadly beam shot straight toward Vivy.

    Drek

    stepped in, raising his staff, and deflected the beam away with his

    aura-coated weapon. At the same time, Thalia closed in on Krul,

    swinging her war hammer at his head.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Krul

    jumped back, narrowly avoiding her strike as it smashed into the

    ground. The impact split the loose sand in two.

    Drek

    and Thalia had become much stronger than before, likely due to their

    use of Aura in battle. Aura for knights was similar to mana for the

    Magus, but being able to wield it was exceedingly rare. It required

    immense patience and effort, making Aura-wielding knights pretty

    rare.

    In

    all of Kastar, only a few hundred knights had achieved this feat.

    Krul

    sensed Zarius¡¯s

    attack from the other side. Without hesitation, he activated the

    engraved glyph on his palm, conjuring a barrier just in time to block

    a flaming rock speeding at him.

    Drek

    and Thalia pressed their assault relentlessly, while the Magus unit

    bombarded him with ranged magical attacks. The remaining knights¡ªeach

    a high-ranking one¡ªcapitalized on every opening, attacking in

    well-coordinated ways.

    <i>Shit</i><i>¡­

    I need to break this momentum. </i>Krul

    began to feel the pressure. <i>Those

    pesky priests need to be taken out first.</i>

    The

    devil¡¯s

    power was being actively suppressed by the Zaras¡¯th priests; this

    made the fight much harder for him.

    Krul

    blocked Drek¡¯s

    staff and simultaneously drove a powerful kick into Thalia¡¯s gut.

    Then, turning his focus back to Drek, he gripped the metal shaft of

    his staff and, with a pivot, slammed him into the ground.

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±

    Drek croaked as his armored back crashed against the sand.

    Krul

    wasted no time. He quickly thrust his sword toward Drek¡¯s

    head.

    Unfortunately

    for him, Vivy intervened, firing a beam of light. Forced to block the

    attack, Krul lost his chance to finish Drek, allowing him to regain

    his composure.

    Krul turned on his heel and charged at

    the knights. As they braced for a counterattack, the devil suddenly

    veered sharply, using <b>Speed</b>

    to propel himself toward the priest

    unit.

    ¡°Die, you Zaras¡¯th

    lapdogs,¡±

    he spat, unleashing <b>Evil

    Blade</b> straight at

    them.

    Zarius swiftly deployed an earth

    wall to

    shield the priests, but the spell shattered through the barrier. Two

    priests were struck directly, their upper bodies severed cleanly. The

    remnants of the spell slashed into two more, their bodies collapsing

    lifelessly onto the loose sand, staining it a deep scarlet.

    ¡°I knew you¡¯d pull something like

    this, you filth,¡± Zarius snarled.

    ¡°You¡¯ve grown senile, Zarius¡ªyou

    barely managed to block that,¡± Krul smirked.

    Despite the gruesome deaths of their

    comrades, the priest unit under Wez

    did not falter. Wez stood at the center of their formation, ensuring

    that even if the others fell, the spell''s effect would only weaken,

    not dissipate.

    Krul knew he had to eliminate Wez to

    fully dispel the suppression.

    Before he could act, Drek

    and Thalia

    charged at him, cutting off his advance. Their relentless assault

    forced Krul out of the

    priest unit¡¯s

    range.

    ¡°Tch.¡±

    Clicking his

    tongue in frustration, he skewered a few knights through the heart as

    he weaved between their attacks, skillfully dodging the Magus unit¡¯s

    magical bombardment.

    Zarius turned to Vivy.

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you using it

    yet? There were plenty of openings.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ Lord Zarius, it takes time to

    deploy. We need to hold the devil down for a few seconds.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ I see.¡± Zarius nodded

    thoughtfully. ¡°I also sense another presence on the battlefield,

    encased in a barrier. Is that the slave you used to track him?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Vivy replied hastily. ¡°The

    devil is protecting him for some reason.¡±

    ¡°Ho¡­ Strange indeed.¡±

    Zarius¡¯

    lips curled into a sinister smirk. ¡°Kill the slave. There¡¯s no

    reason for such filth to exist anyway.¡±

    Vivy hesitated briefly but nodded.

    Zarius was far more experienced in battle than she was, and she

    wasn¡¯t foolish enough to risk

    her knights¡¯ lives for a mere slave. She would do whatever it took

    to bring him

    down. Taking the devil down would allow her family to rise back to

    their original power in the political sphere in Kastar.

    ¡°Target the slave,¡± Vivy

    commanded.

    At once, the knights shifted their

    focus to Stark,

    who stood

    trapped within the cubical barrier cast by the devil.

    Krul had anticipated this. As long as

    he kept

    Zarius and the two Aura-wielding knights occupied, he was confident

    the barrier would hold¡ªfor now.

    The knights surged forward, determined to shatter the barrier and kill Stark.

    Inside, Stark

    watched them

    charge, realization settling in.

    He had become a burden.

    Krul was being pushed back, but he had

    managed to thin the ranks of the knights and some of the Magus.

    Despite this, he still didn¡¯t

    have the upper hand¡ª90% of his power remained suppressed.

    This isn¡¯t

    good. I need an opening. I have no choice but to use it.

    The devil retreated, creating distance

    between himself and his enemies.

    ¡°Child! Get ready!¡± he yelled, shifting his gaze to Stark

    Krul carved an ominous red

    glyph¡ª<b>Bond</b>¡ªinto

    the air. A crimson thread shot from his heart toward the barrier,

    piercing Stark¡¯s chest.

    "What is this?!" Stark¡¯s

    eyes widened as the red thread sank into him. A chill ran down his

    spine, and blood rushed to his head.

    In an instant, Krul carved another

    glyph¡ª<b>Transfer</b>.

    A surge of power quickly flooded Stark¡¯s

    body. Strength unlike anything he had ever felt before coursed

    through his veins. Suddenly he could imagine fighting the knights that were attacking the barrier.

    "Now you can fight against these

    bastards," Krul said as the protective barrier around Stark

    began to dissolve. Stark gripped his broadsword tightly, his eyes sharp as he took a stance to fight.

    The devil had granted him a portion of

    his strength¡ªtemporary power transferred through a bond that would

    expire after a set time. He had no choice. This was the only way to

    ensure Stark survived.

    Krul had given him just enough

    physical enhancement to match the staff-wielding Aura Knight, but it was up to Stark¡¯s

    skill and tenacity to make the most of it.

    Although the spell drained his own strength, leaving him much more vulnerable to the enemies. Krul knew it was the right thing to do, as he didn¡¯t want to lose

    someone close to him yet again. The devil was sure that he would regret this very moment for the rest of his life if he failed to protect the human child from harm.

    For a brief moment, a memory

    surfaced¡ªone he had long thought buried.

    A memory about a little girl running  towards him with a bright grin.

    Krul

    stared at the sky; a sorrowful look flickered across his face.

    "I thought I had forgotten you¡­

    after all this time. But it seems your face still lingers in my mind,

    my beloved daughter."

    <i>I will not let the same happen once again.  </i>Krul

    promised himself.

 Chapter 18 - Hunt [4] Finale

    <i>So

    slow</i><i>¡­

    </i>Stark

    thought as the knight¡¯s

    blade whistled past his neck.

    He

    saw their movements in slow motion. His mind overflowed with

    sensations¡ªevery step, every breath, every shift in the air around

    him. The sharp edge of their killing intent pressed against his skin

    like a blade.

    <i>Is

    this the result of the spell</i><i>¡­?</i>

    Another

    knight lunged. Stark sidestepped effortlessly, parrying the strike

    and with a flick of the wrist sent the blade off-center opening up a

    gap. Quickly, Stark stepped in and drove his knee into the knight¡¯s

    gut, denting his armor with a metallic crunch.

    A

    second knight stabbed toward his face. Stark¡¯s

    sensed the attack. He closed in, allowing the blade to whistle past

    his cheek. In the same motion, he coiled his arm around the knight¡¯s

    joint and¡ªsnap.

    A

    bloodcurdling scream tore through the battlefield.

    ¡°NOOO!!!¡±

    The

    knight staggered back, clutching his now-crippled arm.

    Stark

    didn¡¯t

    hesitate. Pivoting on his heel, he drove a powerful kick right at the

    knight¡¯s head. The knight¡¯s neck bent to the side as he crumpled

    to the ground¡ªunconscious.

    The

    world felt surreal. His heart pounded. Adrenaline coursed through his

    veins like wildfire.

    <i>This

    is real.</i>

    Stark

    stared at the fallen knight, his breathing heavy.

    <i>I</i><i>¡­

    I just defeated a knight.</i>

    ¡°Alert!¡± a knight barked. ¡°The

    devil did something to him¡ªhe¡¯s more powerful!¡±

    The knights quickly put distance

    between themselves and regrouped.

    Stark picked up a dagger from the

    fallen knight. He had no shield, no proper armor¡ªonly his trusty

    sword and the worn leather gear he used for hunting monsters. Though

    Krul had enhanced his physical prowess, Stark still felt a knot of

    unease in his chest.

    He had never killed a human before.

    Never faced such overwhelming killing intent. Even with his new

    strength, his mind remained the same.

    <i>I

    have to adapt. I can</i><i>¡¯t

    be a burden to Krul.</i>

    <i>Let</i><i>¡¯s

    do this¡­ </i>He

    took a deep breath.

    ¡°You¡¯re risking your life for a

    filthy slave,¡± Zarius sneered. ¡°Even using <b>Bond</b>

    and <b>Transfer</b>

    just for him?¡±

    ¡°You still haven¡¯t learned your

    lesson, huh?¡± Krul shrugged. ¡°Even in my weakened state, you¡¯re

    struggling to capture me.¡±

    Zarius¡¯s

    expression darkened. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. How long can you even

    keep up this facade

    of strength with

    your mana burning away?¡±

    ¡°Knights, attack. Magus, provide

    support!¡± Zarius ordered. Then, turning to Vivy, he added, ¡°You,

    child¡ªprepare that thing.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lord Zarius,¡± Vivy nodded.

    <i>I

    was right to call him. They aren</i><i>¡¯t

    enough to take Krul down. </i>Zarius

    smirked.

    <b>BOOM!</b>

    The ground split apart as Drek

    and Thalia

    attacked in unison, leaving the devil little room to dodge. Magus

    from behind launched a barrage of spells¡ªjagged rocks and roaring

    flames hurtling straight toward Krul.

    He barely managed to defend himself

    against the relentless onslaught.

    <i>Fuck</i><i>¡­</i>

    Krul cursed.

    Krul

    blocked Thalia¡¯s

    war hammer with his sword and Drek¡¯s staff with a barrier at the

    same time. Sweat began to form on his brow.

    <b>Forsaken

    Arts, Second Form: Amplification.</b>

    A

    surge of power coursed through his body as the second form activated.

    His mana would burn away much faster, but the spell strength it

    granted was necessary to handle the threats before him.

    Vivy

    Kolbrone cast a disorientation spell, distorting Krul¡¯s

    senses. For a brief moment, the battlefield blurred¡ªhis vision

    wavered, his balance shifted.

    But

    Krul had faced such magic before. With a sharp breath, he dispelled

    it instantly. Then, he charged at Drek¡ªhis movements now even

    faster, his spells even deadlier and precise.

    His

    blade whistled past Drek¡¯s

    shoulder. The sheer force of the swing sent a shockwave through the

    knight¡¯s armor, cracking it.

    Thalia

    lunged at him from behind. Krul dodged smoothly to the side, placing

    his palm against her ribs before unleashing a searing purple beam .

    A

    sickening crack echoed as her thick, black armor shattered from the

    impact.

    ¡°ARGH!!

    FUCK!! YOU DEVIL!!¡± she screamed, coughing up blood as she clutched

    her side.

    From

    a distance, Zarius clicked his tongue and cast <b>Blast.</b>

    The

    ground beneath Krul erupted into a storm of fire and debris.

    Despite

    being blind, the old man relied on his spatial detection spell to

    track the battlefield. He could feel it¡ªKrul had fully unleashed

    his second form.

    <i>To

    think he could wield it even under this much suppression</i><i>¡­

    He truly is a monster.</i>

    Krul

    emerged from the flames, minor burns searing his side.

    Zarius¡¯s

    expression twisted in frustration. ¡°You¡ªwhat are you waiting

    for?! Attack him before he kills that girl!¡± he barked at Drek.

    Snapping

    out, He charged. Drek aimed for the devil¡¯s

    heart, Unfortunately the devil stepped to the side and grabbed his

    arm mid strike and drove his sword right into Drek¡¯s shoulder. The

    armor shattered almost instantly, the blood sprayed out.

    Drek

    let out a bloodcurdling scream.

    Krul

    placed his palm against his gut and unleashed <b>Zor.</b>

    A

    blinding purple beam tore through the air, blasting the knight square

    in the stomach. The sheer force sent him flying, his body launching

    violently midair¡ªleaving his arm severed m in the devil¡¯s

    grasp.

    Even

    after coating himself in Aura as a last-ditch defense, the knight¡¯s

    internal organs were completely ruptured by the impact.

    ¡°Useless.¡±

    Zarius spat as Drek fell unconscious.

    <b>Earth</b><b>¡¯s

    Cage.</b>

    The

    old man carved a glyph into the air. The ground beneath Krul

    shuddered violently before jagged stone erupted around him, enclosing

    him in a massive rock prison.

    Layer

    upon layer stacked over the cage, reinforcing the trap¡ªstalling the

    devil for a few seconds.

    ¡°Cast

    illusions and disorientation spells!¡± Zarius barked at Vivy.

    For

    a brief moment, she stood frozen, dumbfounded.

    She

    trusted him the most¡ªher bodyguard, her strongest aide¡ªyet he

    lost his arm in an instant.

    Vivy

    had underestimated the devil. Even in his weakened state, he was

    still this powerful.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Snapping

    out of her daze, Vivy quickly cast Illusion Smoke and Disorientation

    spells.

    From

    inside the cage, she could feel the ground tremble as Krul bashed the

    rock walls with bombardment spells, trying to break free.

    ¡°Cast

    another cage over him!¡± Zarius roared at the Magus unit.

    Then,

    turning to Vivy, he commanded, ¡°You¡ªchild.

    Use it. NOW.¡±

    Vivy

    nodded quickly and reached into her robes, pulling out a relic of her

    noble lineage¡ª

    Chains

    of Submission.

    A

    relic passed down through the Kolbrone family for generations.

    It

    was said to be powerful enough to completely suppress one¡¯s

    strength and bind the target¡¯s will, placing them under an

    inescapable mind-control spell.

    The

    Chains of Submission appeared like ordinary metal links, but once

    activated, they would lash onto the target, sealing them within a

    crimson, pyramidal prison.

    Despite

    its overwhelming power, the relic had a fatal flaw.

    However,

    it took thirty seconds to fully activate.

    And

    most importantly¡ªthe target had to remain inside the structure for

    the spell to take effect.

    <b>BOOM.</b>

    The

    stone cage erupted into debris as Vivy began the activation sequence.

    Krul

    hovered midair, glaring down at his enemies with a deadly expression.

    ¡°You¡­¡±

    In

    a blink, he charged toward the priests.

    Thalia,

    battered and barely standing, threw herself into his path. Despite

    her injuries, she gritted her teeth, tightening her core as she

    braced for impact.

    Krul

    stabbed her through the gut.

    The

    blade lodged deep, but she clamped her muscles down, trying to trap

    the weapon and disarm him.

    ¡°Filth,

    get out of my way.¡± His voice was as cold as death itself.

    <b>Evil

    Blade.</b>

    "N¡ª!!"

    Thalia

    barely had time to react. A burst of dark energy slammed her chest,

    sending her soaring into the air.

    Before

    she could land, Krul appeared above her in an instant, using <b>Speed.</b>

    <b>CRACK.</b>

    His

    strike sent her slamming into the ground, her limbs twisting

    unnaturally upon impact. Blood sprayed from the wound in her abdomen.

    Krul

    didn¡¯t

    stop.

    In

    a blur, he reappeared in front of Wez.

    The

    priest barely had time to utter a word¡ª

    ¡°You

    heretic, Z¡ª¡±

    Krul

    grabbed his face.

    "Die."

    <b>Explode.</b>

    Wez¡¯s

    head burst apart, spraying blood, brain matter, and shattered bone

    across the battlefield. His lifeless body collapsed, twitching before

    it finally stilled.

    The

    remaining priests stood paralyzed in horror, staring at the grotesque

    remains of their leader.

    Krul

    turned to them, eyes gleaming with pure malice.

    ¡°You

    cursed bootlickers of that dog Zaras¡¯th¡­ also die.¡±

    In

    an instant, they did.

    The

    priests exploded into fountains of gore, their bodies reduced into

    blood and shredded flesh.

    Krul

    stood in the center of the carnage, his body drenched in the crimson

    rain of his enemies.

    The

    red shackles around his wrists faded back to their original color.

    His

    gaze shifted to Zarius.

    The

    old man stood frozen, sweat beading on his brow as he felt the

    devil¡¯s

    true terror

    ¡°Zarius,

    I will send you off nicely this time.¡±

    Vivy

    shook violently, paralyzed by the sheer grotesque, destructive power

    of the devil. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, gripping the Chains

    of Submission so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

    She

    couldn¡¯t

    move.

    She

    couldn¡¯t

    even speak.

    The

    Ancient Devil¡¯s

    presence was suffocating.

    Krul

    carved a dark glyph into the air.

    <b>Death.</b>

    ¡°NO!!

    I BEG OF YOU, PLEA¡ª¡± Zarius screamed hysterically.

    ¡°Too

    late, you dog.¡± Krul¡¯s voice was cold, absolute. He raised his

    hand to activate the glyph.

    ¡°Oh?

    I think I¡¯m just on time.¡±

    A

    amused voice echoed across the battlefield

    Krul

    froze.

    ¡°And

    you¡­ Devil. I suggest you don¡¯t activate that, unless you want

    this slave boy to lose his head.¡±

    Krul

    turned his gaze toward the speaker.

    A

    young man in full armor stood confidently, his sword¡¯s

    edge pressed against Stark¡¯s neck.

    A

    sinister aura seeped from him, unlike anyone else on the battlefield.

    He

    reeked of death.

    Krul¡¯s

    eyes caught Stark trembling, his legs shaking uncontrollably. Sweat

    dripped from the boy¡¯s brow, his eyes wide with pure terror.

    ¡°Grandmaster

    Arlen¡­ Finally, you are here.¡± Zarius gasped, his shoulders

    sagging with relief.

    ¡°Arlen¡­¡±

    Krul murmured, his mind racing.

    <i>A

    Grandmaster</i><i>¡­

    so young. Did he undergo body reconstruction?</i>

    But

    speculation didn¡¯t

    matter.

    Krul

    could tell instantly¡ªthis man was the strongest one on the

    battlefield. Stronger than Zarius.

    A

    Grandmaster was a kingdom¡¯s

    ultimate weapon. A single Grandmaster could level cities, alter

    landscapes, and annihilate armies. They were the harbingers of

    destruction

    And

    now, such a monster had come to hunt the Devil of Kastar.

    Krul¡¯s

    voice was calm.

    ¡°Unhand

    the child.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Arlen¡¯s reply was flat.

    Krul¡¯s

    eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Do

    you want to die?¡±

    Arlen

    smiled and pressed the blade harder against Stark¡¯s

    throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

    ¡°Let¡¯s

    test it, then.¡± His voice was almost amused. ¡°Which is

    faster¡ªyour attack, or my blade?¡±

    Krul¡¯s

    expression remained unreadable, but he could tell Arlen was serious.

    There

    wasn¡¯t

    a single speck of emotion in those scarlet eyes of his.

    One

    wrong move, and Stark would die.

    Silence

    stretched between them as they stared each other down.

    Then¡ª

    Arlen

    sighed.

    ¡°Man¡­

    let¡¯s make a deal.¡±

    Krul¡¯s

    brow lifted slightly. ¡°A deal?¡±

    ¡°You

    surrender right now, and I¡¯ll let this child leave the battlefield

    alive.¡±

    Krul

    said nothing.

    Stark¡¯s

    sharp voice cut through the battlefield.

    ¡°Don¡¯t

    listen to them, Teacher!¡± He yelled.

    Arlen

    chuckled. ¡°Oh,

    what a cute bond.¡± His smile widened as he turned to Stark. ¡°But

    it¡¯s not up to you, slave child.¡±

    His

    scarlet eyes locked onto Krul¡¯s

    once more.

    ¡°So?

    What¡¯s your answer, Devil?¡±

    Krul

    wiped the blood from his face, eyes cold. ¡°I

    don¡¯t trust you. How can I be sure?¡±

    Arlen

    smirked. ¡°We¡¯ll

    do a Life Pact.¡±

    Krul¡¯s

    gaze darkened.

    He

    knew what that meant.

    A

    Life Pact was a contract sealed with one¡¯s

    very existence. Break it, and death was instant. There was taking

    back from a Life Pact.

    ¡°Grandmaster

    Arlen!!¡± Zarius interrupted, aghast. ¡°What are you doing? Making

    a deal with such filth?¡±

    Arlen¡¯s

    voice turned ice-cold.

    ¡°Shut

    it, Zarius.¡±

    The

    old man stiffened, then shrank back.

    ¡°Teacher,

    don¡ª¡±

    Before

    Stark could finish, Arlen¡¯s

    hand clamped over his mouth.

    Krul

    exhaled softly.

    ¡°Sorry,

    child. I don¡¯t want another regret.¡± Krul muttered under his

    breath.

    Then,

    he met Arlen¡¯s

    gaze.

    ¡°I

    agree to a Life Pact.¡±

    Arlen¡¯s

    face lit up brightly.

    ¡°Really?

    Nice. Let¡¯s do it<b>.</b><b>¡±</b>

    ¡°I,

    Arlen Regia, swear on my life not to harm the slave boy and to let

    him leave the battlefield alive and safe.¡±

    A

    chain materialized in the air, its twin daggers gleaming. One dagger

    shot forward, piercing Arlen¡¯s

    chest, wrapping around his heart¡ªthe unmistakable mark of a Life

    Pact.

    ¡°Your

    turn, dear Devil.¡± Arlen smirked.

    Krul

    glanced at Stark.

    Tears

    streamed down the boy¡¯s

    red-rimmed eyes.

    Krul

    sighed, looking away.

    ¡°I,

    Krul Ashborn, swear on my life to surrender and comply with Arlen

    Regia¡¯s demands.¡±

    The

    second dagger impaled his chest, its chain wrapping around his heart

    like a cursed serpent.

    Arlen

    clapped his hands. ¡°You

    did well.¡±

    Then,

    with a smile¡ª¡°Now,

    use the Chains of Submission on him. And, Devil, I demand you to stay

    still.¡±

    He

    released Stark from his grasp and steppedback as Vivy activated the

    relic.

    The

    Chains of Submission enveloped Krul in a pyramidal prison. The air

    grew thick with mana suppression, and after thirty seconds, a collar

    snapped around his neck, sealing his power.

    Krul

    tested his strength, but his mana refused to answer. This was unlike

    the Anti-Magic barrier. The mana in him was jumbled so badly, he

    couldn¡¯t

    materialize. It was the effect of the relic.

    ¡°A

    relic, huh?¡± he mused.

    ¡°What?!

    Why isn¡¯t the mind control working?¡± Vivy gasped.

    Krul

    shrugged. ¡°Doesn¡¯t

    work on me.¡±

    Even

    so, his power had been stripped away. With the chains binding him, he

    was but a husk of his former self.

    Arlen

    chuckled. ¡°Good

    job, Vivy Kolbrone. You played your part well.¡±

    Then,

    turning to Stark¡ª¡°As

    promised, I release the slave boy.¡±

    His

    scarlet eyes gleamed coldly. ¡°You¡¯re

    free to go, slave boy. No one will stop you.¡±

    Stark

    froze.

    Krul¡­

    had sacrificed himself. The cold, ruthless Devil¡­ had given up his

    life to save Stark¡¯s.

    Tears

    spilled from the boy¡¯s

    eyes.

    ¡°Go,

    child.¡± Krul¡¯s voice was gentle. ¡°Live your life.¡±

    Stark¡¯s

    lips quivered, but he knew¡ªrefusing meant throwing Krul¡¯s

    sacrifice away.

    With

    one last look, he turned and ran.

    The

    battlefield watched in silence.

    ¡°He

    finally left.¡± Arlen smirked.

    Zarius

    stepped forward, his face twisted in confusion. ¡°Grandmaster

    Arlen, what is the meaning of this? Why did you let the boy live?¡±

    ¡°Oh,

    Zarius.¡± Arlen sighed, patting his shoulder. ¡°Poor you¡­ I

    didn¡¯t think you¡¯d have to leave the world this early.¡±

    Zarius

    blinked. ¡°Huh?

    What are you saying?¡±

    Arlen¡¯s

    smile widened. ¡°The High Council has determined that <i>Grand

    Magus Zarius</i>

    is responsible for stalling Project Nyx.¡±

    Zarius

    staggered back. ¡°WHAT?!

    That¡¯s impossible! Those three were just as responsible as me!¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡±

    Arlen tilted his head mockingly. ¡°The Council decided to strip you

    of your title¡­ and send you off to the afterlife¡ªsafely.¡±

    ¡°No!

    WAIT¡ª¡±

    Zarius

    never finished his plea.

    In

    an instant, his body exploded into a million pieces, diced into a mix

    of flesh and bone.

    Blood

    rained down in front of Arlen.

    Arlen

    sighed with a mocking expression at the cubed remains of the former

    Grand Magus. ¡°Oh

    dear, didn¡¯t I <i>warn</i>

    you not to get on his bad side, little Zarius?¡±

    Silence.

    The

    others¡ªknights, magus¡ªstood frozen, horrified.

    Then

    Arlen smiled cruelly. ¡°Ah,

    right. I forgot we had an audience.¡±

    Before

    anyone could react, they all died.

    The

    battlefield was wiped clean.

    The

    knights and Magus collapsed in unison, their bodies shredded apart by

    an invisible force. Blood soaked the sand in an instant.

    Only

    three remained¡ªVivy, Thalia, and Drek.

    Vivy

    stumbled back, falling to the ground. Her eyes widened in horror as

    her knights¡¯

    mutilated corpses surrounded her, the acrid stench of blood and

    fluids reached her nose. Breath hitched. Chest heaved. She was

    hyperventilating.

    Arlen

    crouched beside her, his voice soft and gentle

    ¡°I

    trust you¡¯ll keep this our little secret, Miss Kolbrone?¡± He

    patted her shoulder, smiling coldly.

    Vivy

    couldn¡¯t

    answer. She just stared at him with sweat and tears streaming down

    her face.

    ¡°Good

    girl.¡± Arlen stood, dusting off his hands. ¡°My unit will be here

    soon. Gather your little friends. We leave for the Capital.¡±

    Then,

    he turned to Krul.

    The

    Devil¡¯s

    gaze remained nonchalant as Arlen killed his own comrades.

    ¡°Oh,

    and before I forget.¡± Arlen leaned in, amusingly. ¡°That Life

    Pact? It only guaranteed your little slave

    boy

    would leave the battlefield safely and that <i>I</i>

    wouldn¡¯t

    harm him.¡±

    Krul¡¯s

    stomach dropped. ¡°¡­You didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Arlen¡¯s

    grin widened. ¡°Oh, I did.¡±

    He

    laughed.

    ¡°I

    already sent a knight to finish him off.¡±

    ¡°YOU

    FUCKING VERMIN!!!¡± Krul¡¯s roar shook the battlefield.

    Arlen

    only laughed harder at his reaction.

    The

    man wasn¡¯t

    just a Grandmaster.

    He

    was a monster in human skin.

 Chapter 19 - Trial

    Stark

    ran until his legs gave out, exhaustion crashing over him like a

    wave. His only thought had been to put as much distance as possible

    between himself and them.

    But

    now, his temporary strength from Krul¡¯s

    spell had disappeared long ago.

    He

    leaned against a rock, chest heaving. His body burned from the

    sprint, but the pain was nothing compared to the weight in his chest.

    Krul

    had been captured.

    Because

    of him.

    The

    thought gnawed at him. What would happen to Krul? Torture? Execution?

    Stark had no illusions about the fate that awaited someone like the

    Devil of Kastar. The Empire¡¯s

    hatred for him was very evident.

    His

    legs trembled. He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to

    still the shaking, trying to clear his head and cool his body.

    The

    sun had begun to set, bathing the horizon in orange. The desert heat

    faded, giving way to the chill as nightfall approached.

    His

    eyes drifted across the landscape¡ªand then stopped.

    <i>A

    pass?</i>

    A

    narrow path cut through the rocky terrain, flanked by low cliffs.

    Stark frowned. <i>Had

    that been there before?</i>

    He

    rubbed his eyes. <i>I

    must be exhausted maybe that</i><i>¡¯s

    why I didn¡¯t notice.</i>

    Still,

    he couldn¡¯t

    afford to rest for long. He had to keep moving. He had to find a way

    out of this new predicament.

    He

    could hunt, but this was far from the devil¡¯s

    territory. He had no idea what kinds of beasts roamed these lands,

    what strengths or weaknesses they had. Food would be much harder to

    come by.

    And

    survival would be even harder.

    Stark¡¯s

    senses sharpened as the lingering effects of the spell faded. Every

    sound felt amplified¡ªthe faint rustle of critters beneath the sand,

    the subtle movements of insects skittering nearby.

    <i>It</i><i>¡¯s¡­

    unsettling.</i>

    Then¡ªa

    footstep.

    His

    head snapped toward the sound. Nothing.

    His

    breathing hitched. He was sure he had heard something. <i>Someone.</i>

    Sweat

    beaded on his forehead as his eyes darted around, searching. <i>Am

    I imagining things?</i>

    ¡°I

    finally found you.¡±

    The

    voice came from behind.

    Stark

    whirled around, his heart beating loudly.

    A

    tall, armored man stood a few paces away, a spear resting in his

    grip. Broad-shouldered, muscular, battle-worn. The insignia on his

    armor was identical to the one Arlen bore.

    An

    Imperial Knight.

    The

    man studied him with an amused expression, scratching his beard.

    ¡°You¡¯re

    that slave, right?¡±

    Stark¡¯s

    fingers instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword. ¡°W-Who

    are you?¡±

    The

    knight let out a short chuckle. ¡°Does

    my name even matter? You¡¯re going to die anyway.¡±

    Stark

    staggered back. The man¡¯s

    presence was suffocating¡ªstronger than the knights he had faced

    before.

    His

    blood ran cold.

    He¡¯s

    like that man with scarlet eyes.

    The

    knight grinned, noticing Stark¡¯s

    reaction. ¡°Yeah? So what?¡±

    Stark

    swallowed hard, forcing out the words. ¡°T-That

    man¡­ he made a Life Pact with Teacher. He promised I¡¯d be safe!

    He¡ªhe said no one would harm me!¡±

    The

    knight¡¯s

    grin widened.

    Then

    he threw his head back and laughed.

    ¡°AHAHAHA!!!¡±

    The

    sound sent chills down Stark¡¯s

    spine.

    ¡°You

    actually believed that? The pact only ensured you left the

    battlefield safely. The Grandmaster won¡¯t harm you¡ªsure.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    But

    me?¡±

    The

    knight raised his spear.

    ¡°I

    was never part of the deal.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s

    why he sent me to kill you outside the battlefield.¡±

    Kvran

    smiled, leveling his spear at Stark.

    Stark¡¯s

    blood ran cold.

    Krul

    had been tricked.

    Everything¡ªthe

    sacrifice, the pact¡ªit had all been for nothing. And now, he was

    going to die at this knight¡¯s

    hands.

    He

    stared in disbelief, words failing him.

    Kvran

    chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m

    Kvran. Nice to meet you, filthy slave.¡± His grin widened. ¡°Now,

    let me send you safely to the afterlife.¡±

    Rage

    burned endlessly inside Stark. That smirk. That mocking tone.

    ¡°You

    call me filthy, yet you stoop to this?¡± His voice trembled with

    fury. ¡°IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL A KNIGHT?? A FUCKING DOG BASTARD!!¡±

    He roared.

    Kvran¡¯s

    grin faltered.

    ¡°You¡­¡±

    Stark

    ripped his broadsword from its sheath, dagger in his other hand.

    ¡°Come

    at me, you putrid bootlicker.¡±

    Kvran

    moved.

    In

    an instant, the knight closed the distance, his spear lunging

    straight for Stark¡¯s

    heart.

    <i>Too

    fast!</i>

    Stark

    barely deflected the blow, stumbling back toward the narrow pass. His

    muscles screamed in protest¡ªhe could sense the attacks, but his

    body couldn¡¯t

    keep up.

    Kvran¡¯s

    spear whistled through the air, aimed for Stark¡¯s head.

    Stark

    jerked sideways, the blade missing by a hair. A sharp sting. Blood

    trickled from a fresh cut on his cheek.

    He

    exhaled sharply. ¡°Barely

    dodged that¡­¡±

    Kvran

    strode forward, relaxed. ¡°You

    dodge well¡ªfor a novice.¡±

    <i>He</i><i>¡¯s

    underestimating me. Good. A chance would come.</i>

    Without

    warning, Stark whipped his dagger forward.

    Kvran

    reacted instantly, flicking his spear to deflect it.

    <i>Perfect.</i>

    The

    moment the knight¡¯s

    focus shifted, Stark lunged, scooping a handful of sand and flinging

    it at his face.

    A

    direct hit.

    ¡°Tch¡ªrunt.¡±

    Kvran cursed, momentarily blinded.

    Stark¡¯s

    blade shot forward, aimed for his chest.

    ¡°Too

    slow, you little runt.¡±

    Kvran¡¯s

    instincts took over. Steel met steel. With a brutal counter, the

    knight snatched Stark by the collar and pivoted, slamming him into

    the ground.

    <b>CRACK.</b>

    The

    impact rattled Stark¡¯s

    bones. His vision blurred. Pain exploded in his back.

    Blood

    pooled in his mouth.

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±

    He croaked throwing up some blood on the sand.

    <i>Move.

    Move, damn it.</i>

    Gritting

    his teeth, he rolled away, pushing himself onto his knees just as

    Kvran regained his bearings.

    The

    knight wiped the sand from his face, expression dark.

    The

    real fight had just begun.

    ¡°Don¡¯t

    expect a quick death after this stunt you pulled.¡± Kvran¡¯s voice

    was low, edged with amusement.

    Stark

    wiped the blood from his lips and glared. ¡°I¡¯d

    rather die fighting than submit to scum like you.¡±

    ¡°So

    be it.¡±

    Kvran

    charged.

    Before

    Stark could react, a hand clamped around his face.

    Then¡ªhe

    was flying.

    The

    world blurred as Kvran hurled him like a ragdoll into the narrow

    pass.

    <b>CRACK.</b>

    Stark¡¯s

    body collided with the rock wall, a tremor shaking through the stone

    from the sheer force. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he slumped to

    the ground, coughing violently.

    Before

    he could catch his breath, Kvran was there.

    A

    fist tangled in his hair¡ªthen pain exploded in his ribs.

    <b>THUD.

    THUD. THUD.</b>

    The

    knight¡¯s

    knee drove into his gut, again and again.

    ¡°Gh¡ªAgh¡ª¡±

    Stark¡¯s body convulsed with each brutal impact. Something cracked.

    Then another. His ribs. His leather armor split, useless against the

    raw force.

    Still,

    he refused to fall.

    His

    fingers dug into the stone wall as he staggered upright.

    Kvran

    tilted his head. ¡°You¡¯re

    tenacious. I¡¯ll give you that.¡±

    Stark

    laughed. A wet, broken laugh. Blood dripped from his lips. ¡°Hah¡­

    Fuck you.¡±

    Kvran¡¯s

    smirk disappeared.

    The

    spear flashed.

    ¡°AGHHHHHHH!!!¡±

    A

    searing pain exploded.

    Stark¡¯s

    scream ripped through the narrow pass as the spearhead pierced his

    shoulder, tearing through muscle and bone.

    Kvran

    twisted the weapon.

    A

    sickening crunch.

    ¡°Scream

    more, you worthless bastard.¡± Kvran¡¯s voice was mocking, but his

    eyes held no emotion.

    With

    a brutal kick, he ripped the spear free.

    Blood

    spurted from the open wound. Stark reeled back, his vision swimming

    as his body instinctively pulled him deeper into the pass.

    ¡°Enough

    playing.¡± Kvran¡¯s voice was cold as he leveled his spear at the

    battered Stark.

    <i>Damn

    it!</i>

    Desperate,

    Stark hurled a handful of sand and loose rocks at the knight¡¯s

    face.

    He

    lunged, blinded by pain and rage, sword swinging wildly.

    Kvran

    barely flinched. A sharp flick to Stark¡¯s

    wrist¡ªhis sword clattered to the ground.

    But

    Stark didn¡¯t

    stop.

    With

    a feral scream, he lunged again¡ªthis time, his teeth sank deep into

    Kvran¡¯s

    forearm.

    ¡°Tch¡ªfuck

    you, filthy sewer rat!¡± Kvran cursed, kicking him away.

    Stark

    staggered but didn¡¯t

    fall. Blood dripped from his shoulder, his breath came in ragged

    gasps.

    He

    leaned against the narrow rock wall, barely keeping himself upright.

    Kvran¡¯s

    next attack was coming.

    Stark

    could see it¡ª

    The

    spearhead glinted. Time slowed.

    He

    watched it slice through the air, gliding toward him in eerie

    silence.

    <i>Is

    this it?</i>

    He

    closed his eyes.

    Then¡ª

    A

    blinding light erupted.

    Suddenly,

    the ground vanished beneath them.

    They

    plummeted into the abyss.

    ¡°WHAT¡ª?!¡±

    Stark gasped.

    ¡°The

    hell¡ª?!¡± Kvran shouted, caught off guard.

    Then¡ª

    sudden stillness.

    When

    Stark opened his eyes, he was standing¡ªnot falling.

    A

    narrow stone pathway stretched before them, lined with fire-lit lamps

    that flickered. A soft breeze ran through the cavern.

    He

    looked down at himself.

    His

    wounds were gone.

    The

    pain in his ribs? Vanished. The gaping shoulder wound? Healed. It was

    as if the battle had never happened.

    Kvran

    noticed too. His expression darkened.

    Annoyed,

    the knight swung his spear at Stark¡¯s

    throat.

    Stark

    flinched.

    But

    the spear stopped right before hitting him as if he was enclosed in

    an invisible barrier.

    ¡°What¡ª?¡±

    Kvran¡¯s eyes narrowed.

    Then

    Stark noticed a shackle

    One

    thick, dark chain bound his wrist¡ªthe other end attached to Kvran.

    Kvran¡¯s

    fury boiled over. ¡°What the hell is this?!¡± He yanked at the

    chain, but it held firm. ¡°Is this your doing, you bastard?!¡±

    Before

    Stark could answer, glowing writings materialized.

    The

    letters hovered in the air, shimmering blue, moving like they were

    alive.

    It

    was written in Kastari.

    [This

    is a trial to test your worth. Members bound by the shackle cannot

    harm each other.]

    [To

    complete the trial, One must find the Red-Eyed Raven and retrieve its

    treasure.]

    They

    had stumbled into a dungeon.

 Chapter 20 - Dungeon

    ¡°This damned place.¡± Kvran cursed

    and punched the stone wall.

    The dungeon ensured that none of

    Kvran¡¯s attacks reached

    Stark; each strike stopped abruptly before making contact. The knight

    truly couldn¡¯t harm Stark, which brought some relief to the boy.

    Yet, he wasn¡¯t fully convinced he was safe.

    <i>There

    must be loopholes. I need to stay alert, </i>he

    thought.

    He scanned the surroundings. There was

    nothing but a long stone pathway lit by flickering fire lamps.

    The real problem? He had to work with

    the knight who had just tried to kill him. Shackled together, Stark

    had no choice but to rely on Kvran¡¯s

    cooperation to find the red-eyed Raven and complete the trial.

    ¡°What are you staring at, you

    bastard?¡± Kvran barked, kicking the stone wall.

    Stark frowned at the knight¡¯s

    attitude. ¡°You thick-skulled oaf. You really think we¡¯re getting

    out of here without working together? ¡±

    Kvran turned to Stark with a serious

    look. ¡°I will just kill you.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t, you filthy boot

    licker.¡± Stark smirked. ¡°Even if you did manage to kill me, do

    you really think you could finish the trial alone?¡±

    ¡°There must be a reason for this

    condition set by the dungeon. Go ahead, try to kill me¡ªsee how long

    you stay trapped here.¡± Stark sounded confident.

    Kvran paused for a moment. Stark¡¯s

    theory made sense.

    <i>It

    seems like an ancient dungeon</i>,

    Kvran thought. <i>The

    longer a dungeon remains unexplored, the more dangerous it becomes</i>.

    The knight clicked his tongue. He had

    no choice but to cooperate with Stark¡ªat least until he found more

    clues about the dungeon.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, then.¡± Stark sighed

    deeply.

    Even as they moved forward, he

    remained on alert. He needed to find a way to get rid of Kvran while

    clearing the trial¡ªotherwise, he would die.

    They ventured deeper into the stone

    pathway.

    ¡°This is an odd dungeon,¡± Kvran

    muttered, running his fingers over the wall. ¡°No traps?¡±

    ¡°Why is that odd?¡± Stark raised a

    brow.

    ¡°Mph.¡± Kvran grimaced and looked

    away.

    <i>This

    bastard,</i> Stark

    thought.

    It was his first time inside a

    dungeon, but he noticed that Kvran seemed to have some understanding

    of them¡ªalmost as if he had explored a fair number before. Stark

    decided to study his actions as they walked.

    Time seemed to stretch endlessly, yet

    they never reached anything. The pathway extended forward, seemingly

    infinite.

    Kvran sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve

    been walking in circles.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Stark frowned.

    Kvran paused for a moment, thinking

    before he spoke.

    ¡°We¡¯re trapped¡ªprobably in an

    isolation space.¡± He pointed at a small carving on the stone wall.

    ¡°I made this at the beginning, and we¡¯ve passed it three times

    already.¡±

    ¡°So there must be a clue to escape.¡±

    Kvran nodded thoughtfully.

    Stark ran his palm over the stone

    walls as they walked. He studied the lamps, the damp stone path, and

    the occasional breeze that passed through the corridor.

    <i>Breeze?

    In a closed pathway?</i>

    Stark thought.

    He quickly noticed that the breeze

    didn¡¯t pass through

    randomly¡ªit came at precise, regular intervals.

    During each gust, he kept his eyes

    sharp, scanning his surroundings. To his surprise, all but one lamp

    extinguished when the breeze passed, only to relight immediately

    after.

    It was odd. And it kept happening.

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    Kvran clicked his tongue in

    frustration. ¡°The hell is

    this dungeon? Fuck! Where are the beasts and monsters?¡±

    They passed the carving for the fifth

    time now.

    Stark had an idea.

    As the next breeze rolled through,

    extinguishing the lamps, he quickly reached out and grabbed one from

    its placeholder.

    ¡°What are you doing, you runt?¡±

    Kvran scowled.

    ¡°Just do as I did.¡± Stark¡¯s

    voice was firm.

    ¡°Like hell I¡¯ll follow your

    orders.¡± Kvran spat.

    The next breeze came. Stark grabbed

    another lamp.

    Again.

    And again.

    By the time the next gust passed, he

    had four lamps in his hands. Then, as another wave of air rushed

    through and another lamp flickered out, Stark lunged forward and

    seized it before it could relight.

    At that moment, the pathway shook

    violently. Dust cascaded from the ceiling. The walls beside Stark

    trembled, then groaned as they slid apart, revealing a spiraling

    staircase leading downward.

    Stark cast a mocking smirk at Kvran.

    Kvran¡¯s

    jaw clenched, his fury evident, but he said nothing.

    They descended the spiral staircase in

    silence, neither speaking a word.

    Kvran was still taken aback by how

    Stark had solved the isolation space puzzle. <i>I

    have to be careful,</i>

    he thought, walking behind him.

    The duo soon reached a massive

    chamber¡ªwide, almost like a training arena. Fire lamps illuminated

    the space, and four large pits of light burned in each corner.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Kvran scoffed. ¡°A

    training arena?¡±

    As soon as they stepped forward,

    glowing letters materialized in the air.

    [Defeat

    the Twin Guardians in a duel to proceed.]

    ¡°Twin Guardians?¡± Stark murmured,

    scratching his chin.

    ¡°Hmph. Whatever. I¡¯ll just kill

    them.¡± Kvran confidently strode into the arena.

    Another set of letters appeared.

    [Duel

    Rules: Two members must participate.

    The duel will end when one

    is unable to fight.]

    ¡°Hey, wait up¡ª¡±

    ¡°What? Are you scared?¡± Kvran

    sneered.

    ¡°No¡­¡± Stark said, squaring his

    shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡±

    Kvran yanked the chain linking them

    together, dragging Stark forward.

    As they reached the center of the

    training ground, the pits of light in the corners began to glow, in

    an instant they were enclosed in an cubical isolation barrier.

    Then, two figures emerged¡ªArmored

    Undead.

    One wielded a sword, the other a

    spear.

    Both were shackled together, almost as if mirroring Stark and Kvran.

    Stark felt a jolt of unease as he took

    in their rotting

    faces, hollow

    eyes staring back at him..

    The undead lunged at them the moment

    the duel began.

    The

    sword-wielding one aimed for Stark¡¯s

    head¡ªa killing blow. He barely dodged, the blade whistling past his

    ear.

    Kvran

    deflected the spear with a flick of his wrist, cursing under his

    breath as he kicked the undead back.

    But

    the spear-wielding undead turned sharply¡ªthis time, targeting

    Stark.

    He

    tried to sidestep, but the shackle yanked him back.

    Off

    balance, he crashed to the floor.

    An

    instant later, his vision blurred.

    He

    was outside the training arena.

    Staring

    at the ceiling, Stark blinked in confusion. They lost.

    The

    undead had impaled his heart, yet he felt no pain. His body was whole

    again¡ªinstantly healed.

    Kvran

    scoffed beside him.

    Above

    them, glowing letters materialized.

    [You

    have used One out of Five attempts. Failure to complete the trial in

    five attempts will result in the death of both members.]

    ¡°What

    the fuck?!¡± Kvran roared. ¡°This isn¡¯t real! FUCK!¡± He turned

    to Stark, seething. ¡°You expect me to win with this dead weight

    holding me back?¡±

    ¡°It

    was your fault too!¡± Stark snapped, exhaling sharply. ¡°You didn¡¯t

    move!¡±

    Kvran¡¯s

    glare darkened. ¡°Do you expect me to read your mind, you little

    bitch?¡±

    <i>Seems

    like we can injure each other in indirect ways. </i>Stark

    quickly noted.

    ¡°We

    need to figure this out. We have to predict each other¡¯s

    movements,¡± he said, frowning as he stood up.

    Kvran

    exhaled deeply.

    ¡°Those

    undead... they¡¯re mimicking us,¡± Stark continued.

    ¡°I

    can tell that much,¡± Kvran growled.

    ¡°I

    want to test something.¡±

    Kvran

    raised a brow, reluctant but slightly intrigued. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Teach

    me something. I want to see if the undead copies me.¡±

    Kvran

    let out a sharp laugh. ¡°You

    want me? Your enemy, to teach you?¡±

    ¡°Or

    we rot here forever.¡± Stark shrugged.

    Kvran

    grunted. ¡°Fine!

    I¡¯ll teach you an intermediate sword technique. Come here.¡±

    ¡°You

    know swordplay?¡±

    ¡°All

    knights master advanced sword arts, along with their preferred weapon

    styles.¡± Kvran smirked arrogantly.

    ¡°I¡¯ll

    demonstrate the form¡ªyou just have to mimic it.¡±

    <i>Meh!

    Like a novice who barely knows the basics could even attempt this.</i>

    Kvran scoffed inwardly.

    With

    precise, flowing movements, Kvran demonstrated the form. Each slash

    and stab was controlled, strong¡ªlike a sword dance. The technique

    flowed like water, smooth yet powerful.

    Stark¡¯s

    eager eyes drank in every motion.

    ¡°There.

    That¡¯s the weakest intermediate sword technique,¡± Kvran smirked.

    ¡°Think you can copy it?¡±

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes sparkled. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±

    Kvran

    was taken aback by the enthusiasm but crossed his arms to watch.

    <i>Let</i><i>¡¯s

    see.</i>

    Stark

    took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing completely. He

    visualized Kvran¡¯s

    movements¡ªthe way the blade moved, the weight shifts, the momentum.

    Then,

    his body moved on its own.

    Each

    strike flowed naturally, as if he had practiced it a hundred times.

    He could feel the energy concentrate at the blade¡¯s

    edge with every motion.

    Kvran¡¯s

    eyes widened.

    <i>What

    the hell?</i>

    The

    boy replicated the technique flawlessly. Not just the stance, but the

    precision, force, and seamless execution.

    Even

    Kvran had to admit¡ªthe kid was talented.

    <i>This...

    in just one glance? Some knights would kill for a disciple like this.</i>

    ¡°Was

    that good?¡± Stark asked.

    Kvran

    sighed. ¡°It

    wasn¡¯t the best, but¡­ it¡¯s passable.¡± He crossed his arms.

    ¡°Now, let¡¯s try it.¡±

    Stark

    took a deep breath, gripping his sword.

    He

    was ready for the next duel.

    They

    both stepped into the training arena to face the two undead once

    again.

    And

    a few moments later.

    Stark

    was facing the ceiling once again. Kvran sitting beside him with a

    frown.

    [Two

    out of 5 attempts have been used]

    They

    lost once again in a similar manner to the last fight.

    Stark

    let out an awkward laugh and got up quickly.

    ¡°The

    undead mimicked me the moment I entered the room. They can¡¯t copy

    my growth.¡±

 Chapter 21 - Twin Guardians [1]

    ¡°So,

    the only way out of this mess is to make you stronger?¡± Kvran

    scowled.

    ¡°Precisely.

    If I¡¯m faster and stronger than my counterpart, we can win.¡±

    Stark explained.

    <i>I

    have no other choice, it seems. The undead can</i><i>¡¯t

    copy growth, and I¡¯m nowhere near the Enlightenment Stage to

    achieve explosive progress.</i>

    Kvran scratched his beard, frustrated.

    ¡°Fuck!

    Never thought I¡¯d have to train my own target.¡± He spat on the

    ground and turned away. ¡°First things first¡ªhow do we even find

    food in this place?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s

    circle the arena,¡± Stark suggested. ¡°We might find something.¡±

    The

    room was massive¡ªalmost like a vast grassy plain stretching so far

    they couldn¡¯t

    see the end from where they stood. They cautiously followed the

    arena¡¯s perimeter, careful not to step inside and trigger another

    attempt.

    After

    a few minutes of walking, they stumbled upon something peculiar¡ªa

    large stone door with two doorknobs, one on each side. It was the

    only door in the entire room.

    ¡°Two

    doorknobs?¡± Kvran eyed it suspiciously. ¡°How the hell does this

    even open?¡±

    He

    grabbed one knob and tried twisting it. Nothing.

    ¡°Maybe

    we have to turn them at the same time?¡±

    They

    exchanged a glance and twisted the knobs simultaneously.

    <b>Click.</b>

    The

    door split down the middle, sliding apart to reveal a small stone

    chamber.

    ¡°Damn!

    I was right.¡± Stark grinned. ¡°This is a supply and rest room.¡±

    Inside,

    shelves were stacked with food, and a water well stood in the center,

    its surface glistening under the dim light. A restroom and other

    amenities made it feel almost like an inn inside a dungeon.

    Kvran¡¯s

    frown deepened. ¡°This dungeon is weird. I¡¯ve never seen a supply

    room inside one before.¡±

    Stark

    ignored Kvran and examined the food. It smelled fresh¡ªno hint of

    staleness. The meat looked like it came from some beast.

    ¡°Hey!

    What if it¡¯s poisonous?¡± Kvran warned. ¡°The last thing I need

    is you falling sick and becoming a burden.¡±

    ¡°How

    would we even check for poison?¡± Stark asked.

    Kvran

    fell silent.

    ¡°Exactly.

    There¡¯s no way to check, and we can¡¯t survive without eating.

    It¡¯s a death-death situation either way.¡±

    <i>Why

    is this brat so smart? Isn</i><i>¡¯t

    he a slave?</i>

    Kvran cursed in his mind.

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    Stark

    tossed him a piece of jerky. Kvran caught it midair, watching as

    Stark took a bite. Only after Stark swallowed the first piece did

    Kvran follow.

    <i>Doesn</i><i>¡¯t

    seem poisonous¡­</i>

    After

    eating some more, Kvran headed to the water well.

    ¡°I¡¯ll

    teach you some techniques in a few hours.¡± He sighed before

    chugging a handful of water.

    Something

    odd about the chamber caught Stark¡¯s

    attention. Their chains stretched unnaturally, passing through

    walls¡ªallowing them to move freely inside the room.

    <i>Free

    movement inside this room</i><i>¡­

    odd. There has to be a hint here.</i>

    Stark

    glanced around but quickly stopped himself. <i>It</i><i>¡¯ll

    raise suspicion if I investigate now.</i>

    Instead,

    he subtly observed Kvran. Despite his arrogance, the knight¡¯s

    observation skills were sloppy. He missed key details during their

    time together. <i>A

    front-line fighter. Not someone who relies on strategy.</i>

    <i>That</i><i>¡¯ll

    be useful.</i>

    Stark

    waited for Kvran to rest before searching the supply room for clues.

    A

    few minutes later, Kvran retired to a chamber, taking it easy. With

    no time limit on the quest and plenty of food, he had no reason to

    rush. After all, Stark couldn¡¯t

    harm him.

    But

    for Stark, it was different. <i>His

    life was on the line.</i>

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He

    couldn¡¯t

    trust Kvran¡ªnot even with the temporary cooperation between them.

    So he moved quietly, careful not to alert him, and scoured the supply

    room for any hidden clues.

    ¡°Damn

    it¡­ Is there really nothing?¡± he muttered under his breath.

    Leaning

    against the wall, he crouched to check beneath a shelf. His palm

    pressed against something¡ª a loose stone.

    Before

    he could react, the stone sank inward like a hidden button.

    Stark¡¯s

    breath hitched. <i>A

    trap?!</i>

    He

    clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself.

    ¡­Nothing

    happened.

    Slowly,

    he opened one eye. Floating in the air, silent was a line of writing.

    ¡°This¡­¡±

    He gasped.

    ¡°You

    runt¡­¡±

    A

    voice cut through the air.

    Stark

    jerked his hand back. The writing vanished instantly, leaving no

    trace behind.

    His

    heart pounded, but he forced himself to stay calm. Grabbing a piece

    of jerky, he walked toward Kvran, who was watching him with an

    unimpressed scowl.

    ¡°As

    expected. You¡¯re just stuffing your face,¡± Kvran scoffed.

    Stark

    frowned and tossed the jerky away.

    ¡°Let¡¯s

    go train.¡±

    Kvran

    sighed, standing up. ¡°Finally.¡±

    He strode toward the arena, with Stark following close behind.

    As

    they walked, Kvran glanced at him. ¡°You¡¯ve

    got good foundations.¡±

    Stark

    nodded, saying nothing.

    The

    knight studied his frame, noting the toned muscles beneath his ragged

    clothes. ¡°Who

    taught you swordsmanship?¡±

    ¡°Why

    does it matter?¡± Stark countered.

    Kvran

    shrugged. ¡°Just

    curious.¡±

    A

    brief silence stretched between them before Kvran changed the

    subject.

    ¡°So,

    tell me¡ªwhat¡¯s the difference between a basic swordsman and an

    intermediate one?¡±

    ¡°Better

    physique and experience?¡± Stark guessed.

    Kvran

    smirked. ¡°Experience

    matters, yeah. But there¡¯s a fine line between them. Physically,

    they¡¯re about the same. The real difference¡­¡± He tapped his

    head. ¡°Is up here.¡±

    Stark¡¯s

    brows furrowed. ¡°You¡¯re saying I can grow stronger without

    increasing my physical power?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    Kvran¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get started.¡±

    He

    stopped in the center of the training ground.

    ¡°Close

    your eyes,¡± Kvran instructed, drawing his sword.

    ¡°Unsheathe

    your blade.¡±Stark followed without hesitation

    Kvran

    lifted a massive stone from the platform and, with a single fluid

    motion, sliced it into hundreds of fragments using his spear.

    ¡°I¡¯ll

    throw these at you. Your job is to make contact with them using your

    sword.¡±

    Stark

    hesitated. ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°No

    complaints. Let¡¯s start.¡±

    Without

    further warning, Kvran nonchalantly flung a handful of stones in

    Stark¡¯s

    direction.

    Stark

    swung his sword wildly, missing every single one. His movements were

    clumsy, unfocused¡ªhe wasn¡¯t

    reacting fast enough.

    The

    stones, however, never hit him. The shackles between them prevented

    Kvran from inflicting harm, ensuring the exercise remained a test of

    skill rather than survival.

    ¡°Try

    harder,¡± Kvran instructed. ¡°Don¡¯t focus on the stones¡ªfocus

    on the changes around you.¡±

    Minutes

    passed. Stark kept swinging.

    He

    still couldn¡¯t

    hit a single one.

    "Again,"

    Kvran ordered.

    Time

    passed, and Stark began to adapt. He could sense the stones before

    they even reached him¡ªthe faint rustle of Kvran¡¯s

    footwork, the sharp whistle of stone slicing through the air, even

    the subtle shift in the surrounding air pressure.

    <i>There.</i>

    <b>CLANG!</b>

    A

    precise strike shattered a stone mid-air. His first successful hit.

    From

    that moment, it only got easier.

    Kvran

    increased the difficulty as Stark adapted, but the boy¡¯s

    progress was staggering. Within hours, he was effortlessly cutting

    down every stone thrown his way.

    The

    knight couldn¡¯t

    believe his eyes. He had never seen anyone develop so quickly.

    <i>He

    managed to grasp it this fast</i><i>¡­</i>

    Kvran

    clenched his jaw. If Stark kept growing at this rate, he¡¯d

    become a threat.

    Suppressing

    his unease, he exhaled and said, ¡°Great.

    You passed the training.¡±

    Stark

    opened his eyes, looking almost disappointed. ¡°That¡¯s

    it?¡±

    ¡°What

    did you expect? That I¡¯d teach you sword art forms?¡±

    ¡°No,

    but¡­ does this really make me an intermediate swordsman?¡± Stark

    scowled.

    ¡°Technically,

    yes. A lower-level one,¡± Kvran admitted. ¡°The difference between

    the you who entered this room and the you now? Massive.¡±

    Still

    catching his breath, Stark looked up. ¡°Then

    let¡¯s attempt the trial again.¡±

    Kvran

    hesitated for a second. <i>He</i><i>¡¯s

    too confident.</i>

    ¡°¡­Fine.

    Let¡¯s do it.¡±

    They

    both stepped into the arena once again.

    The

    armored undead spawned before them, their rotting faces still

    unsettling. Stark winced for a moment before steeling himself.

    The undead, coordinated and precise,

    charged at them at the same time.

    Stark, instead of paying full

    attention to the enemy, also kept his eye on Kvran. He needed to

    study the man to dodge and attack precisely without interfering with

    each other.

    Stark blocked the sword undead¡¯s

    blade mid-swing and kicked its rotted gut, protected by armor. It was

    pushed back, yanking the shackled arm of the spear undead back.

    <i>I</i><i>¡¯m

    definitely stronger than that undead.</i>

    As they kept fighting, problems began

    to pile up. Despite their best efforts, their bond and teamwork

    weren¡¯t up to par. The twin

    undead had almost flawless teamwork, making up for each other.

    In the end, they were pushed back to

    the edge of the arena by the undead.

    ¡°Fuck!!¡± Stark cursed at the

    undead. ¡°You dirty mutts.¡±

    Stark jabbed at the ribs of the

    undead. A step forward and a stab.

    The undead switched as the

    sword-wielding undead caught Kvran¡¯s

    spear by the edge and deflected it to the side using his momentum.

    The spear undead rushed to end the

    duel, bringing its spear down at him in a deadly arc. Gritting his

    teeth, Stark whipped his sword up to block, just barely managing as

    the strike rattled his bones and nearly made his knees cave in.

    ¡°This filth.¡± Kvran cursed and

    jabbed at the spear undead in an attempt to save him.

    The undead stepped out in an attempt

    to create distance.

    A dagger shot at Kvran¡¯s

    head before he could even charge.

    ¡°These motherfuckers," he

    cursed loudly as he deflected the dagger.

    Kvran charged at the spear undead,

    following his lead. Stark was to take care of his undead counterpart.

    He closed in quickly.

    He twitched, jerking his sword for a

    false stab.

    Its sword came up to block. The moment

    was finally here.

    Stark swung low. It was over for the

    undead. But the blade never reached.

    Kvran, in an attempt to dodge a

    strike, yanked him by the chain. The force pulled him back and threw

    him off balance.

    Unfortunately, before he could pull

    him up, he saw a stab coming right at his face.

    It was over.

    Stark was back outside the arena,

    staring at the ceiling with a dejected look.

    [Three out of five attempts have been

    used.]

    ¡°Fuck!! I was so close.¡±

 Chapter 22 - Twin Guardians [2]

    Kvran snapped and punched the ground.

    ¡°FUCK!!!!¡±

    ¡°Why can¡¯t we even beat those

    bastards!!¡± he yelled. ¡°And you¡ªstop being a burden.¡±

    Stark frowned. ¡°The

    hell do you mean burden? I was about to kill him, and it was your

    fault I couldn¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°Oh!! Really? If I didn¡¯t save

    you, would that chance have come?¡± Kvran asked mockingly.

    Stark just sighed and turned his face

    away. He knew it was both of their fault. Their teamwork was lacking,

    and considering they were enemies, it made this even harder.

    <i>I

    don</i><i>¡¯t

    want to die.</i> Stark

    grimaced. <i>I

    need to find a way to win.</i>

    ¡°If we improve our coordination, we

    can win.¡±

    ¡°This is bullshit,¡± Kvran spat and

    got up. ¡°I don¡¯t care about these things. We will try once again

    tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡±

    Kvran just yanked the chain forward

    toward the supply room to rest. He followed, knowing that words

    wouldn¡¯t reach the knight¡¯s

    ears.

    The knight retired without a single

    word.

    <i>I

    need a plan to win</i><i>¡­

    </i>Stark thought.

    He sat down on the cold stone floor

    and closed his eyes to visualize the three fights he had against the

    twin guardians so far. They made up for each other¡¯s

    flaws.

    This also meant he could learn Kvran¡¯s

    flaws by observing the spear undead. He figured it would be useful

    for later.

    <i>In

    the end, they were undead made of rotting flesh and bones,</i>

    he thought. <i>Rotting

    flesh</i><i>¡­</i>

    As he visualized more of the fights,

    he realized there were many flaws in the undead. The main one was

    their limited use of muscles. Their muscles was too rotten and far

    less functional than that of a living human. It made sense that

    physically intensive movements, which put a lot of strain on the

    frame, would be difficult for them.

    <i>If

    I can push them into such a situation, we can probably win.</i>

    However, there were more variables at

    play. Kvran was not cooperating. He was a wild card¡ªone that could

    cost him this trial. Stark needed a plan to deal with him.

    The boy spent his time replaying the

    fights in his mind and sharpening his senses. He lost track of time

    until Kvran¡¯s crass voice

    broke through his focus.

    ¡°Come, let¡¯s do the trial.¡±

    Kvran stretched his arms. ¡°Don¡¯t mess it up this time.¡±

    Stark opened his eyes. He hadn¡¯t

    rested, but he felt refreshed, his senses sharper than before.

    ¡°¡­.¡± Stark stayed silent,

    scowling at Kvran.

    They both took their stances, ready to

    fight the armored undead. With a screech, the spear-wielding undead

    charged straight at him, aiming to take him out first¡ªit saw him as

    the weakest link.

    ¡°This rotten bastard.¡± Kvran

    blocked the strike, stepping in between.

    Stark moved from behind, parrying the

    sword undead¡¯s attack. Their

    blades clashed in a flurry of steel, sparks flying. He took a step

    forward, pivoted, and aimed a kick at its side. The undead promptly

    blocked it but was pushed back.

    It let out a screech as the spear

    undead also moved back to regroup.

    Stark was experiencing an immense toll

    on his mind. He was analyzing the movements of three people while

    fighting, actively predicting Kvran¡¯s

    movements to position himself where they had the advantage.

    ¡°Keep him occupied for a moment,¡±

    he requested. ¡°I¡¯ll take that undead out.¡±

    Kvran nodded briefly and accelerated

    toward the spear undead. A jab at its chest¡ªthe spear whistled

    past. The undead turned and planted a kick on his shoulder.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Pain exploded through Kvran¡¯s

    shoulder.

    In the same instant, the undead

    brought its spear down. Kvran stopped the blow with the metal shaft

    of his own spear. His knees nearly buckled. Gritting his teeth, he

    twisted his weapon to break free and create distance.

    As the fight commenced, Stark moved

    swiftly toward the sword-wielding undead.

    They exchanged a flurry of strikes,

    sending sparks into the air.

    With a flick of his wrist, Stark shot

    a dagger at the undead, attempting to create an opening. It deflected

    the dagger, but in that instant, Stark closed in, bringing his sword

    down cleanly.

    The undead, clearly taken aback,

    stepped back. The blade grazed its chest piece, slightly cracking it.

    Stark kept up his momentum, charging at the undead relentlessly,

    pushing it back in an attempt to create an opening.

    His strikes inflicted damage, cracking

    the undead¡¯s brittle bones

    under the relentless pressure.

    He was certain of victory in a head-on

    battle¡ªuntil the undead proved to be more cunning than he had

    anticipated.

    It yanked its ally forward, throwing

    the spear undead into the fray. It quickly took cover behind its

    counterpart.

    Stark skidded to a halt as the spear

    undead slashed low at his side. He raised his guard, but it wasn¡¯t

    enough. The impact sent him rolling several feet, yanking Kvran with

    him and breaking their momentum.

    ¡°You little shit¡­¡± Kvran

    snapped. ¡°Can¡¯t you do one thing properly?¡±

    Stark ignored the pain, blood pooling

    at his mouth and Kvran¡¯s

    yelling. He was too focused on the fight. T<i>hat

    sword undead</i><i>¡­</i>

    He got up, bracing for the next

    attack.

    A dagger shot toward Kvran,

    accelerating through the air. It pierced the gap in his shoulder

    armor.

    ¡°ARGH!!¡± Kvran grunted, yanking

    the dagger out. His frustration boiled over. Blinded by rage, he

    threw the weapon aside and surged forward.

    Stark quickly followed, already

    predicting the next move.

    ¡°You piss-faced fucks!¡± Kvran

    roared, swinging his spear in a brutal arc from low to high.

    <b>CLANG!</b>

    The spear undead was lifted off the

    ground by the sheer force of the strike. Kvran followed the spear

    wielder in a fit of rage.

    The sword undead moved instantly to

    cover its comrade, hurling another dagger at Kvran.

    <i>It</i><i>¡¯s

    the sword one that¡¯s finding the gaps. </i>Without

    pause his sword whipped back up, parrying yet another probing strike.

    And

    another from the sword undead.

    Stark

    took a half step back, the dirty point of the undead¡¯s

    sword coming within a hair''s breadth worn-out leather armor. He

    twisted his hands. Borrowing the force of the undead parry twirl his

    sword overhead.

    He

    was too far back on his rear foot to cave in the undead''s brain, but¡­

    The

    point of his sword ripped through the undead''s rusty chest

    plate, completely shattering it. Cutting clean through its leading

    shoulder muscle. blood sprayed out from the wound, spilling free

    slowly. The creature was still primarily of flesh and bone. It needed

    muscles to move.

    Its

    arm fell weakly to its side, fully unusable.

    It didn¡¯t

    stop the undead.

    Stark glanced at Kvran¡ªhe was

    forcing the spear undead back.

    Wasting no time, Stark turned his

    attention to the other undead and charged behind it.

    The shackle chain wrapped around the

    spear undead¡¯s waist.

    ¡°Kvran, switch¡ªQUICK!¡± he

    shouted.

    Sensing the opportunity, Kvran

    switched sides with Stark. The chain tightened around the undead¡¯s

    waist as they moved in opposite directions, crushing its bones.

    Then, the sword undead did the

    unexpected. It was unnaturally clever.

    It ripped off its own limp arm and

    jammed both its sword and severed limb between the chains before the

    spear undead could be fully crushed¡ªallowing it to escape.

    ¡°FUCK!!¡± Stark cursed, stepping to

    the side.

    Without hesitation, he ripped two

    daggers from his belt and hurled them at the spear undead¡¯s

    legs.

    Both blades struck precisely, slicing

    through its hamstrings. Blood sprayed from the loose, rotten flesh.

    The undead buckled, stumbling

    backward.

    ¡°DIE!!¡± Stark clenched his teeth

    and lunged, aiming for the spear undead¡¯s.

    The sword undead stepped in between

    them, its blade still lodged in its own chest.

    <i>It

    used its own torso as a scabbard. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT UNDEAD?!</i>

    Without hesitation, it grabbed its

    last dagger and flung it at Stark.

    <b>STAB</b>

    Mid-charge, Stark twisted, but the

    dagger still found its mark¡ªpiercing deep into his obliques.

    Pain exploded. Flesh twisted. Blood

    dripped.

    Yet, he didn¡¯t

    waver.

    He bit down hard and charged forward.

    The sword undead ripped its blade free

    from its chest, ready to defend its comrade.

    Stark¡¯s

    sword lunged forward, its point aiming straight for the spear

    undead¡¯s chest.

    The other undead swung to intercept

    him.

    Metal

    clashed. Sparks flew. Bones cracked.

    Anticipating the attack, Stark angled

    his strike to deflect the undead¡¯s

    sword¡ªredirecting it straight into its own comrade, alongside his

    own.

    Both blades pierced through the back

    of the spear undead.

    But he wasn¡¯t

    done.

    With

    a cry of rage, he wrenched his sword upward, ripping straight through

    the spear undead¡¯s

    skull.

    The

    undead¡¯s

    body fell limp on the arena and the sword undead began to turn into

    ash in front of his eyes.

    Stark

    watched the rotten face of the creature shift into a grin as its body

    vanished.

    It

    moved its mouth uttering something inaudible to him.

    <i>Huh!!

    What!!</i>

    The

    undead¡¯s

    bodies and the weapon vanished into nothingness.

    Stark¡¯s

    injuries began to heal. The barrier was vanishing slowly. Kvran

    walked over as he witnessed something pretty crazy.

    The

    Room began to shift, unveiling a huge metal door with an raven emblem

    studded with red gems.

    Suddenly,

    Text began to materialize before them.

    [You

    have successfully defeated the Twin Guardians and completed the first

    trial.]

    [Rewards: Handy Backpack, Removal of

    cursed shackles]

 Chapter 23 - Horde [1]

    The

    shackles disappeared from their wrists.

    Kvran

    immediately swung at Stark¡¯s

    neck¡ªonly for his blade to be blocked once again by an invisible

    barrier.

    ¡°Tch¡­¡±

    The knight retracted his weapon.

    Stark

    frowned. ¡°You

    really are scum.¡±

    Before

    them, a backpack materialized¡ªit was their reward for defeating the

    Twin Guardians.

    Honestly,

    considering the effort they had put in, Stark found the reward pretty

    lackluster.

    He

    walked over and inspected the bag while Kvran peered over his

    shoulder.

    It

    looked like an ordinary leather backpack, but it was extremely

    durable and made of high-quality material.

    ¡°Oh!

    We can use this to store food,¡± Stark exclaimed.

    So

    the dungeon rewarded them with something to preserve their rations.

    ¡°Pack

    up, then,¡± Kvran ordered with a frown.

    Stark

    scoffed, slinging the backpack over his shoulders. ¡°You

    expect me to do all the work?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re

    useless, you bastard. If I hadn¡¯t taught you, you wouldn¡¯t have

    even been able to defeat those undead.¡±

    <i>This

    bastard.</i>

    They almost lost because he was just standing there watching the

    fight at the end.

    Stark

    stomped his foot. ¡°If

    I¡¯m packing all this by myself, I¡¯ll be the one managing

    rations.¡±

    ¡°As

    long as you don¡¯t pull anything, that¡¯s fine,¡± Kvran waved him

    off.

    ¡°Die,¡±

    Stark muttered before moving to gather his daggers. Then, he ran off

    to collect supplies.

    After

    a while, he returned with a full backpack slung over his shoulders.

    Turns

    out, the bag had leather skins inside to store water. Stark packed as

    much non-perishable food as he could find. He also came across a few

    extra daggers while scouring the room and strapped them to himself.

    Kvran

    and Stark faced the huge metal door.

    With

    a serious expression, Kvran pushed it open.

    The

    doors groaned as they parted, revealing a dark void ahead.

    One

    by one, lamps flickered to life, illuminating the space beyond.

    The

    revealed pathway was made of stone, similar to the one before, but

    much wider and far more ancient¡ªits surface cracked with age, with

    thick roots jutting out from the grooves of the floor.

    ¡°An

    abandoned passage?¡± Kvran muttered as he walked. The roots were

    getting thicker as they went deeper inside the passage. The knight

    walked ahead, scouting and keeping an eye ahead.

    Stark

    silently followed behind scanning his surroundings as usual. He was

    figuring out the real reason for this trial. The dungeon referred to

    these as trials so it wanted them to prove themselves.

    But

    Prove what? He had no idea.

    <i>Maybe

    the clues are in the dungeon itself </i>He

    thought.

    Stark

    began to revisit all the moments in the dungeon. <i>An

    isolation illusion trap!! Duel with two undead with similar strength

    to them.</i>

    Time

    passed as they reached an intersection. The path split into 3 new

    paths. Before each pathway was a stone tablet. It was etched with

    some text.

    They

    walked over to take a closer look.

    The

    first tablet read

    [The

    clever crow hoards its secrets in the serpent¡¯s

    shadow, where silence reigns and eyes deceive]

    ¡°Hmm¡­.¡±

    Stark scratched his head thoughtfully. He strode over to the next

    stone tablet along with Kvran

    Second

    Stone tablet read

    [The

    sky does not weep for the fallen; Where wings are stained crimson,

    the victor¡¯s

    path is paved; it only watches.]

    ¡°Hints

    eh? Crap!!¡± Kvran cursed as he strode over to the last tablet.

    [Two

    blades cross, but only one is reflected. The Raven¡¯s

    call indicates the end.]

    ¡°Is

    one path the correct one?¡± Stark thought out aloud.

    ¡°You

    are saying there are traps?¡±

    ¡°Likely!!

    Don¡¯t you have experience exploring dungeons?¡± Stark asked with a

    frown.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°I

    am a fighter. We have explorer and mappers for these things. It¡¯s

    my first time encountering these types of dungeons.¡± Kvran sighed.

    Stark

    chuckled. ¡°So

    you are a brainless knight.¡± He said in a mocking tone.

    ¡°Watch

    your tone, you slave.¡±

    He

    clicked his tongue in disgust and turned away. ¡°Things

    aside, these proverbs hint at the way to the find the Raven.¡±

    ¡°So

    which one should we choose.¡±

    Stark shrugged. ¡°I

    don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Useless,¡± Kvran muttered.

    He sat down on the floor while Stark

    scouted the area for any more clues. But apart from the proverbs

    inscribed on the hall¡¯s

    walls, there was nothing else.

    He read them again.

    Despite racking his brain, there was

    still no clear clue as to which path was correct.

    Each proverb mentioned the Raven in

    different forms¡ªone hoarding secrets, another watching over

    battles, and the last calling for the end.

    <i>If

    all paths lead to the Raven, why the distinction? </i>He

    pondered.<i>

    Is it some sort of curse, like the shackles?</i>

    ¡°That would make sense¡­¡± he

    muttered to himself.

    Pulling out some stones, he broke them

    into smaller pieces and began tossing them into the different paths

    and against the walls, testing for hidden traps.

    Kvran just stared at him blankly as

    Stark did most of the work.

    But the knight wasn¡¯t

    entirely foolish¡ªhe could see it clearly. If he allowed the boy to

    grow any further, it would spell his own inevitable end.

    Kvran had seen individuals like Stark

    before. Talents like his were rare, but they existed¡ªthose

    exceptional capital squires from the academy who climbed the ranks to

    become high-ranking Aura Knights in just a few years.

    He had firsthand experience of

    witnessing one such rapid growth.

    There was a case two years ago¡ªa

    squire who had risen through the knight order at an unprecedented

    pace, reaching the rank of High-Ranking Aura Knight in just a single

    year.

    The Grandmaster, Arlen, and the

    Supreme Magus, Frestia, had pressured the king to keep the news under

    wraps.

    That High-Ranking Aura Knight had been

    Kvran¡¯s only childhood

    friend¡ªthe very person he had once taught martial arts.

    <i>That

    boy</i><i>¡­

    He¡¯s just like him. It¡¯s almost uncanny.</i>

    Kvran sighed. <i>Though,

    this one doesn</i><i>¡¯t

    seem as talented. Still, being cautious wouldn¡¯t hurt.</i>

    Meanwhile, Stark finished checking the

    entrances for traps. Finding none, he pulled out some dry roots and

    crafted a makeshift torch, using the fire lamps from earlier to light

    it.

    Kvran stood up, dusting off his back.

    "Which pathway? Do you have any

    hints?" he asked.

    "The second one. Let¡¯s

    take that path," Stark said, handing Kvran a torch.

    "Are you sure?" Kvran raised

    a brow. "Is it the right path?"

    "There are no right paths. Every

    path leads to the Raven." Stark adjusted the straps on his

    backpack, securing two extra torches to its side.

    "Let¡¯s

    go."

    Kvran followed silently. He knew the

    boy was better at navigation and solving these kinds of puzzles.

    As they entered the middle pathway,

    the damp soil squelched beneath their boots. The scent of earth was

    thick in the air.

    Stark inspected the surroundings as

    they walked. At the edges of the pathway, he spotted clusters of

    fluorescent herbs. He knew better than to touch them.

    Krul¡¯s

    lesson came back to him:

    the more alluring a plant looks, the more likely it is to be

    poisonous¡ªor worse, a monster. Given their small size, these were

    likely just toxic, not predatory.

    Minutes later, the tunnel opened into

    a vast cavern.

    Fluorescent moss dotted the walls,

    casting an glow over the space. Strange, bulb-like plants pulsed with

    light, growing in dense clusters.

    But the most bizarre sight of all was

    the waterfall.

    Or rather¡ªthe <i>bloodfall.</i>

    Scarlet liquid poured down in

    torrents, feeding into a wide, sluggish river that blocked their path

    forward.

    Kvran narrowed his eyes and stepped

    closer to the fall. He sniffed the air. No distinct smell.

    "This liquid..." He

    hesitated. Carefully, he loosened the tip of his leather glove and

    dipped it into the red stream.

    <i>SSSSSSHHH!</i>

    The glove sizzled instantly, curling

    and blackening under the acidic burn.

    "Tch!" Kvran yanked his hand

    back. "It¡¯s not safe."

    Stark

    pointed to the edge of the flowing stream. "Look over there."

    Across

    the red river, a series of stones jutted out, forming what seemed

    like a natural path. Almost like stepping stones.

    It

    felt too convenient.

    They

    walked closer. Despite the gushing liquid, the stones remained

    intact, showing no signs of sizzling or dissolving.

    "It

    feels off," Stark muttered.

    "It

    definitely does," Kvran agreed.

    To

    test it, Stark picked up a loose rock and hurled it at the nearest

    stepping stone.

    <i>CRACK¡ªSPLASH!</i>

    The

    stone gave way instantly, sinking into the red liquid without

    resistance. A trap.

    Stark

    turned to Kvran. "Can¡¯t

    you jump across with me?"

    "Huh?"

    Kvran frowned. "You want me to use movement arts to cross?"

    "Yes!"

    Stark said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

    Kvran

    eyed the river¡¯s

    width. "I can cover about 75% in a single leap¡ªbut not the

    rest."

    "Oh,

    then let''s do this." Stark crouched, gathering several stones.

    Kvran

    immediately understood. The boy wanted him to leap first while he

    threw stones ahead, triggering any remaining traps before Kvran

    landed. A risky, but effective, plan.

    "Not

    bad," Kvran admitted. "But can you even aim mid-leap?"

    "Even

    if I didn¡¯t.

    I don¡¯t know movement arts! If there are two traps in a row, do you

    think I can jump?" Stark scoffed. "Besides, the proverb

    says I need to be here to complete the trial."

    Kvran

    didn¡¯t

    argue. The logic made sense.

    "Fine,"

    he sighed, grabbing Stark and putting him onto his back. "Ready?"

    Stark

    nodded.

    Kvran

    crouched, power surging in his legs. Then, like a bolt of lightning,

    he launched forward.

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes darted across the path, calculating in an instant. He flung the

    first stone.

    <i>CRACK¡ªSPLASH!</i>

    A trap.

    Another

    throw. <i>SPLASH!</i>

    There

    were more traps than expected. But Stark¡¯s

    training with daggers paid off¡ªhis aim was sharp, each stone

    striking with precision.

    Then¡ªone

    stone landed and the stepping stone held firm.

    "There!"

    Stark shouted.

    Kvran

    spotted it mid-air. Twisting, he adjusted his landing, barely

    touching down before launching forward again.

    A

    heartbeat later, they skidded to a stop on the other side of the

    river.

    They¡¯d

    made it.

    Kvran let Stark slide off his back.

    Stark adjusted his backpack, somehow

    having wedged the torches inside without burning the fabric. He

    pulled them free to venture deeper into the dungeon.

    As they moved away from the bloodfall,

    the surroundings grew stranger. Fluorescent moss spread across the

    walls, glowing in neon hues. Bizarre, bulbous plants pulsed faintly.

    Then¡ª

    GRRRHHH

    A deep, guttural rumbling echoed

    behind them.

    Kvran and Stark spun around.

    A solid stone wall had risen where the

    entrance had been.

    No way back.

    "What the fuck?" Kvran

    snarled, stepping forward and driving his fist into the stone. A

    solid thud¡ªbut

    the wall didn¡¯t even crack.

    His expression darkened.

    Stark raised his torch, scanning their

    surroundings with tense anticipation. His free hand unsheathed his

    sword, ready for the worst.

    Then¡ªtext

    materialized before them.

    Scarlet letters dripped

    through the air, as if written in blood.

    [Prove

    your Worth to the Master of the dungeon]

    [Survive

    the Horde]

 Chapter 24 - Horde [2]

    "Horde?"

    Stark muttered, his grip tightening on his sword.

    For once, Kvran looked tense. His stance shifted, ready for battle. "Stay

    alert. A lot of beasts and monsters are coming. We have to survive."

    The

    text before them flickered¡ªthen shifted into a ticking timer.

    [3:00:00]

    Stark''s

    eyes widened. "A timer?!"

    "We

    have to hold out for three hours?! Damn it!" Kvran cursed.

    A

    tremor shook the ground ahead. The dungeon floor vibrated beneath

    them. Something massive was marching closer. Kvran clenched his

    sword, sweat beading on his forehead.

    Stark

    had fought multiple opponents before¡ªbut never a horde.

    "Create

    a perimeter, quick!" Kvran barked. "I''ll hold the left; you

    take the right."

    Having

    fought on the front lines, Kvran knew the dangers of a horde better

    than Stark. With only two of them, defense would be brutal. Worse,

    Kvran¡¯s

    superior strength meant Stark''s side would always be the weaker

    link¡ªthe side most likely to collapse.

    "Conserve

    your energy. No reckless moves." Kvran warned. "You need to

    last the whole three hours."

    Stark

    scanned for anything useful¡ªbut there was no time.

    The

    timer started.

    [2:59:59]

    Then¡ªthey

    came.

    From

    the shadows, hundreds of red-skinned beasts emerged. Their arms were

    covered in rocky spikes, almost like a club. Their hollow eyes gleamed

    with mindless hunger. Drool leaked from their gaping mouths, sharp

    canines glistening.

    Kvran¡¯s

    face twisted. "Ma¡¯oks!!"

    Stark

    glanced at him. "What the hell are those?"

    Kvran

    cursed. "Weak forest beasts from forests of the Gr¨¹ntal

    Kingdom¡­

    but in numbers? A fucking menace."

    Ma¡¯oks

    were a menace¡ªnot because of their strength, but because of their

    mindless tenacity. These creatures felt no fear, no pain. According

    to legends, they were cursed by a powerful witch that lived in the

    Gr¨¹ntal Kingdom¡¯s forest centuries ago; since then, they have become

    mindless beings, throwing themselves into battle without regard for

    survival.

    Kvran

    wasted no time. He lunged forward, a spear flashing. A clean strike¡ªone

    Ma¡¯ok¡¯s

    head flew off, blood spraying like a fountain. The body collapsed,

    lifeless.

    "Aim

    for the head," Kvran instructed, driving his spear through the

    skull of another beast. "They¡¯ll

    keep moving if you only pierce the heart."

    Stark

    observed the Ma¡¯oks

    closely, studying their movements. One charged at him, swinging its

    club-like arms. He sidestepped as the massive limb slammed into the

    ground, cracking the stone floor.

    <i>Durable

    and powerful arms.</i>

    With

    a sharp exhale, Stark brought his blade down in a clean arc. The edge

    sliced straight through the creature¡¯s

    thick neck. Its head rolled. Blood sputtered. Another lifeless body

    fell.

    Another

    Ma¡¯ok

    lunged. Stark blocked with his sword, the impact rattling his bones.

    Strong¡ªbut nothing compared to the Twin Guardians.

    "Weak,"

    he muttered before swiftly decapitating it.

    Minutes

    passed. Then more. The Ma¡¯oks

    kept coming.

    Now,

    Stark understood why they were a menace. Their movements were

    predictable, almost too easy to read¡ªbut that wasn¡¯t

    the problem.

    They

    just never stopped.

    With

    every kill, another came forward. Endless. Relentless.

    Fatigue

    was inevitable. And in a battle of endurance¡­

    That

    was where the real danger lay.

    Stark¡¯s

    gaze shifted to Kvran, who was cutting through the Ma¡¯oks like they

    were nothing. The knight barely showed signs of exhaustion, while

    Stark could feel fatigue creeping in, slowing his movements.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    [1:48:20]

    <i>"</i>Still

    close to two hours left¡­<i>"</i>

    he muttered under his breath.

    <i>There

    had to be something more. The dungeon wouldn</i><i>¡¯t

    set impossible trials¡ªthere had to be a way to survive.</i>

    He

    exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus.

    A

    Ma¡¯ok

    lunged. Stark drove his blade into its neck and flung the creature

    aside like a rag doll. Another beast swung at his ribs. He barely

    managed to raise his sword in time, the impact knocking him back

    several steps.

    "Ugh!"

    His stance wavered.

    In

    an instant, dozens of Ma¡¯oks

    surged toward him, sensing weakness.

    "This

    runt¡ª" Kvran cursed as he saw the incoming horde.

    The

    knight lowered his stance, gripping his spear. A sharp breath. A jolt

    of energy.

    <b>Spear

    Arts, First Form: Arc.</b>

    His

    weapon moved. A silvery glow traced through the air, forming a thin

    line across the necks of the charging beasts.

    A

    heartbeat later¡ª

    Kvran

    reappeared on the opposite side of the battlefield.

    Multiple

    heads tumbled to the ground. Blood splattered across the damp stone.

    The charge had been halted in an instant.

    Kvran

    turned his head and yelled, "Focus, you bastard. You''re making me

    waste extra energy."

    Stark

    gritted his teeth and forced himself back into position. His breaths

    came in ragged gasps, and his muscles burned with every movement.

    And

    the horde kept coming.

    He

    was fighting through the pain. Cuts formed in the gaps of his leather

    gear, blood dripping from the wounds.

    Suddenly,

    a charging Ma¡¯ok

    collapsed face-first into the ground, tripping the ones behind it.

    Stark noticed a dark purple hue creeping up its feet.

    ¡°What¡¯s

    that?¡± he muttered, cutting down another beast.

    His

    eyes scanned the surroundings. The Ma¡¯oks

    near the fluorescent moss had their feet turn purple and began losing

    balance and stumbling.

    <i>Is

    this poisonous for them?</i>

    He wondered, slashing through another beast.

    Although

    it seemed to be poisonous, the effect wasn¡¯t

    immediate. The Ma¡¯oks could still move, albeit sluggishly. The

    dosage wasn¡¯t lethal enough to kill them outright.

    Stark¡¯s

    mind raced. He grabbed a handful of moss from the walls and smeared

    it onto a red-skinned beast. It screeched in agony before collapsing

    lifelessly.

    <i>So

    the poison definitely works.</i>

    Dodging

    a wild strike, he grabbed the beast¡¯s

    rocky arm, pivoted, and hurled it into the charging horde.

    <i>What</i><i>¡¯s

    a way to poison them all at once?</i>

    ¡°KVRAN!!!¡±

    Stark shouted. ¡°Can you hold them off for a moment?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Kvran yelled back, his spear piercing through three skulls in a

    single thrust. ¡°What the hell do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I

    think I have a way to kill a lot of them at once,¡± Stark said,

    keeping his guard up against the relentless horde.

    Kvran,

    already aware that Stark¡¯s

    defensive line was crumbling, spared a glance at the timer.

    [1:09:08]

    <i>Almost

    an hour left.</i> Kvran

    noted. <i>I

    need him to hold out, or I</i><i>¡¯ll

    have to defend both sides myself.</i>

    ¡°Fine!! Make it quick!! I can¡¯t

    hold out for long!¡± Kvran shouted. He still had plenty of energy

    left, but the horde was unyielding.

    Stark stepped back from his position.

    In an instant, Kvran seized

    full control of the perimeter.

    <b>Spear

    Arts 2nd Form: Guardian.</b>

    The

    knight adjusted his grip on the spear and shifted his stance. A wave

    of bloodlust surged from him as he unleashed his fury upon the

    advancing horde. Red-skinned beasts were sent flying with each

    devastating strike.

    His spear tore through

    tens of Ma¡¯oks

    in a single sweep.

    Meanwhile, Stark moved swiftly,

    retrieving his makeshift torch. One

    of them still burned. He used it to light another before tearing a

    strip of cloth from his clothing and covering his nose.

    The

    boy rushed toward the frontline, two torches in hand, and grabbed a

    fistful of fluorescent moss.

    He set it ablaze.

    Flames

    consumed the moss, and within moments, thick green smoke billowed

    into the battlefield.

    Ma¡¯oks

    that inhaled it collapsed almost instantly, their skin darkening to a

    deep purple as the poison seeped into their bodies, almost like

    absorbing the poison naturally.

    ¡°I found it,¡± Stark muttered.

    ¡°Kvran,

    open a path there.¡± The boy pointed at the mass of fluorescent moss

    within the heart of the incoming horde.

    ¡°Fine!!¡±

    Kvran muttered. A jolt of energy coursed through him.

    ¡°Fine!!¡± Kvran muttered, a surge

    of energy coursing through him.

    <b>Spear

    Arts 3rd Form: Impale.</b>

    His

    spear tore through the heart of the horde, crushing Ma¡¯oks

    on impact. Some were even cleaved in half by the sheer force of the

    strike.

    Kvran

    moved forward. Stark followed.

    With

    his keen battle instincts, the knight carved a path through the enemy

    lines, each strike deadly. He moved with ruthless efficiency,

    eliminating any threat before they could swarm him.

    As

    soon as they reached the cluster of fluorescent moss, Stark skidded

    to a halt, spinning toward it.

    Kvran

    turned around immediately, blocking incoming strikes.

    ¡°Cover

    your nose.¡± Stark tossed a piece of cloth to the knight.

    The

    stage was set for havoc.

    With

    a grin, Stark lit the cluster of moss.

    Flames

    spread almost instantly.

    Thick

    green smoke flooded the battlefield.

    The

    red-skinned beasts choked and convulsed, their bodies darkening to a

    deep purple before collapsing lifelessly onto the cold, hard ground.

    ¡°Fall

    back!!¡± Stark yelled.

    Kvran

    grabbed him, slinging the boy over his shoulder.

    As

    they retreated, Stark hurled his makeshift torches to other parts of

    the battlefield, igniting more patches of moss.

    ¡°Behind

    that pile of Ma¡¯ok corpses!¡± the boy advised.

    [0:30:10]

    The

    timer ticked down.

    They

    reached the pile of Ma¡¯ok

    corpses, taking cover behind it. The lifeless bodies absorbed the

    approaching smoke, shielding them as it wreaked havoc across the

    battlefield.

    Stark

    exhaled, glancing back through the cover.

    The

    battlefield was littered with piles of dead beasts. None had

    survived. They dropped like flies, one after another.

    Kvran,

    still catching his breath, mumbled, ¡°How

    did you know that?¡±

    Stark

    shrugged. ¡°Just

    cause.¡±

    A

    grueling thirty minutes passed as they finished burning the last of

    the moss.

    Then¡ª

    [Congratulations!!]

    The

    text materialized before them.

    [You

    have successfully defended against the 1st wave.]

    Both

    Stark and Kvran gasped in unison.

    ¡°Huh?

    1st?¡±

    Before

    they could react, another ominous message flashed before their eyes.

    [2nd

    wave starts in 12 hours!!]

    A

    new countdown appeared.

    [12:00:00]

    Stark¡¯s

    rage exploded.

    ¡°FUCK

    this, you dirt-eating raven!!¡±

 Chapter 25 - Horde [3]

    Exhausted

    from the fight, Stark collapsed onto the hard ground.

    They

    had just eaten some of the jerky they packed from the supply room.

    More

    than ten hours remained before the second wave commenced, and Stark

    noticed the path ahead was lit up. The corpses of the Ma¡¯oks

    hadn¡¯t vanished after the fight.

    ¡°Why

    aren¡¯t they vanishing?¡± Kvran muttered, inspecting them.

    ¡°Do

    they usually vanish?¡± Stark asked, turning his head, still lying on

    the floor.

    ¡°Dungeons

    are run by mana,¡± Kvran explained. ¡°Killing a creature returns

    its mana to the dungeon.¡±

    ¡°So

    the dungeon has a fixed amount of mana. It creates traps, beasts,

    etc., with it¡­ Interesting,¡± Stark noted.

    He

    absorbed information from the knight like a sponge.

    <i>If

    the corpses aren</i><i>¡¯t

    disappearing, it¡¯s definitely the work of the raven,</i>

    he thought.<i>

    I</i><i>¡¯ll

    check it later. Right now, I need rest.</i>

    With

    a sharp exhale, he drifted to sleep on the cold, hard ground.

    He

    woke to the crass, disgusting voice of Kvran.

    ¡°You

    bastard, there are only three hours left,¡± he yelled. ¡°How long

    will you sleep?¡±

    ¡°FUCK!!

    You damned muscle-headed bastard.¡± Stark sat up, clutching his

    head.

    His

    sleep had been interrupted. The knight was right¡ªthey needed to

    scout ahead and secure a better position for the next wave. The

    corpses hadn¡¯t

    rotted and were still in great condition.

    ¡°Did

    you scout?¡± he asked, adjusting his torn gear.

    ¡°Yeah!

    There¡¯s a junction up ahead.¡±

    ¡°Junction?¡±

    He raised a brow at the knight. ¡°I see. How far?¡±

    ¡°Just

    a few meters ahead.¡±

    Stark

    went ahead to check the junction for himself. The pathway was

    surprisingly lit with torches and widened as he approached the

    junction.

    <i>I

    could use the torches</i><i>¡­

    </i>Stark

    noted.

    The

    path led him to a junction, with three other paths branching off into

    the unknown. The center of the junction was wide and circular, with a

    massive pillar standing in the middle. Torches lined the perimeter,

    creating a bright, well-lit space.

    He

    wanted to explore the pathways further but knew it wasn¡¯t

    the best idea. They could be trapped, and if the horde started in

    such an unprepared position, it would end in disaster.

    <i>The

    path is pretty wide. If we could create a barricade</i><i>¡­</i>

    Just

    as the thought formed, something clicked in his mind. His attention

    went to the corpses from the first wave¡ªthey could use them to

    build barricade walls.

    He

    rushed back. Kvran was leaning against the wall, cleaning his spear.

    The knight looked up in surprise as he saw Stark approaching in a

    hurry.

    ¡°I

    need some help! Come!¡± Stark said enthusiastically.

    Taken

    aback by the sudden energy, Kvran agreed.

    Stark

    quickly explained his plan: they would use the rocky, club-like arms

    of the Ma¡¯oks

    to create a barricade. The limbs were durable and could withstand a

    significant amount of pressure.

    Without

    wasting time, they got to work, severing the arms of the Ma¡¯oks

    and hauling them to the junction. Stark began arranging them,

    interlocking the limbs to maintain tension and strength. They

    constructed a double-layered barricade with a narrow opening in the

    middle, forcing the horde to funnel through a single entrance.

    Kvran

    tested the barricade with a powerful strike, but it held firm. Stark

    assumed it would endure the horde¡¯s

    assault.

    They

    gathered the remaining corpses and stacked them to form another wall

    just in front of the real barricade. It took them only an hour to

    complete.

    ¡°Let¡¯s

    take down the torches as well,¡± Stark advised.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Kvran raised a brow.

    ¡°What

    if they use them?¡± Stark said. ¡°We have no idea if it¡¯ll be the

    same beasts this time.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­!¡±

    Kvran sighed.

    They

    removed every torch illuminating the junction, extinguishing them and

    setting them aside as makeshift weapons.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Now,

    let¡¯s close the gap and wait.¡±

    They

    sealed the narrow entrance with a three-layered shield gate made from

    the rocky limbs of the Ma¡¯oks.

    [1:00:54]

    <i>One

    hour left</i><i>¡­

    </i>Stark

    exhaled, letting his muscles rest before the fight. He had done his

    best with the information available to him.

    The

    timer ticked down and reached zero.

    [Second

    Wave Starts]

    Text

    materialized before their eyes. Another timer appeared¡ªthis time,

    it was double the duration of the first wave. They had to survive

    against the horde for six hours.

    A

    deep tremor rumbled behind the barricade as the beasts marched

    forward. The duo braced themselves, pressing their bodies against the

    shield gate to ensure it wouldn¡¯t

    break easily.

    The

    creatures struggled to make progress against the makeshift corpse

    fort. They pounded against the gate, but Stark and Kvran held firm,

    refusing to let them break through.

    Time

    passed, and the pounding began to slow.

    ¡°Huh¡­?¡±

    Stark raised a brow. ¡°What¡¯s happening out there?¡±

    Three

    hours had passed, yet not a single beast had broken through. The fort

    was holding, but something felt off.

    The

    horde seemed to be weakening as time went on.

    ¡°Should

    we check?¡± Stark asked, a concerned look on his face.

    Kvran

    nodded thoughtfully. It was definitely strange.

    He

    gripped the gate and pulled it open, revealing the gap.

    In

    the same instant¡ª

    <b>Spear

    Arts: 3rd Form ¨C Impale.</b>

    Kvran

    launched his spear the moment the opening appeared, slicing through

    every beast in its path.

    The

    creatures resembled jackals with green fur. A glistening, hardened

    shell protected their foreheads and jaws, with a single horn

    protruding from the center of their skulls. Their hollow eyes and

    gaping jaws dripped with saliva at the sight of the flesh piled

    before the barricade.

    Stark

    lit the makeshift torches and hurled them into the horde one by one.

    Flames

    spread, illuminating the junction. The fire revealed the room

    littered with the corpses of the jackal-like beasts.

    But

    Stark also noticed something alarming¡ªa significant portion of the

    corpse wall was missing, exposing the barricade.

    ¡°Poison¡­!¡±

    he muttered, his eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, he rushed back

    into the corpse fort. Kvran quickly shut the gate behind him.

    ¡°What

    did you find?¡± the knight asked.

    ¡°Those

    damned mutts ate the poison corpses and perished.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­

    what?¡±

    ¡°They also seem as mindless as the

    Ma¡¯oks.¡±

    ¡°What beasts are they?¡± Stark

    asked Kvran curiously.

    ¡°No idea,¡± the knight shrugged.

    ¡°It¡¯s my first time seeing such a beast.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­ so we don¡¯t have any

    information on them.¡±

    It was a blessing in disguise¡ªthey

    didn¡¯t have to fight for the

    next two hours while the beasts succumbed to the poison. Adding

    insult to injury, Stark continued throwing makeshift torches into the

    horde, setting their fur ablaze.

    However, he knew the poisoned corpses

    wouldn¡¯t last long. As the

    final hour approached, the beasts had consumed almost all the dead

    bodies. Now, drawn by the scent of human flesh, they began to gather

    for an attack on the shielded gate.

    The charge was relentless. The

    creatures rammed their hardened foreheads and horns against the gate,

    inflicting damage and causing deep cracks to form.

    Hundreds of beasts battered the

    barricade, their sheer numbers sending violent tremors through the

    structure.

    Kvran held the gate up with his

    superhuman strength. He was a knight, after all¡ªhis physical

    prowess was far beyond ordinary. But despite his efforts, the

    creatures'' horns and hardened shells began to crack the rocky surface

    of the gate.

    <b>CRACK</b>

    The gate shattered inward as the

    beasts broke through the barricade.

    Fortunately for the duo, the entrance

    was only wide enough to accommodate one beast at a time.

    Stark and Kvran pulled out their

    weapons and slashed away at the green-furred creatures. Their

    offensive worked in their favor as the accumulating corpses began to

    block the path of the incoming horde.

    Kvran had the best advantage in this

    situation. His spear allowed him to jab at the beasts through the

    gaps with ease.

    Stark, wielding a sword, took down the

    occasional stragglers that managed to slip past the knight.

    As the battle raged on, Stark noticed

    that they still had plenty of torches left¡ªmany of them collected

    from the junction earlier.

    The corpses continued piling up at the

    entrance. Kvran could hold his ground and expend more energy, but

    Stark decided it was best to conserve their strength. They had no

    idea if the next wave would start immediately¡ªdungeons were

    unpredictable after all.

    Without hesitation, he began lighting

    multiple torches, saving only a few for later.

    ¡°Fall back,¡± the boy yelled to the

    knight.

    Kvran glanced back, sweat glistening

    on his skin. A satisfied look crossed his face, as if he was enjoying

    the battle.

    With a click of his tongue, he stepped

    back as soon as he noticed the torches.

    Reaching Stark¡¯s

    side, he grabbed a few torches of his own and hurled them toward the

    entrance.

    The fire caught instantly, spreading

    rapidly as the beasts¡¯ fur

    became kindling. Within moments, a sea of flames engulfed the

    entrance of their corpse fort.

    ¡°Let¡¯s fall back. We¡¯d choke in

    this enclosed space,¡± the knight advised.

    They both stepped back, though their

    eyes remained fixed on the entrance.

    The beasts let out agonizing screeches

    as the red-hot flames consumed them, their howls echoing through the

    dungeon.

    ¡°It was a good idea,¡± Kvran

    praised.

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Stark muttered, watching

    the inferno.

    Something stirred in his mind. A

    fragment of memory suddenly resurfaced¡ªa grassy field from his

    dream, with a tiny house standing in its midst.

    But in an instant, the scenery shifted

    into a sea of flames.

    The entire place was burning. The

    once-green field was now drenched in red, littered with corpses.

    Spears and swords stood out of lifeless bodies.

    The

    whole place was decimated.

    A lone child stood in the middle of

    the chaos, crying.

    <i>What

    the hell is this?</i>

    Stark¡¯s thoughts raced. <i>I

    was fighting the horde just now</i><i>¡­</i>

    He looked down at his hands¡ªcovered

    in blood.

    The ground beneath him darkened into a

    pool of crimson, swallowing him up. He began to sink.

    Panic surged through him. He

    struggled, squirming to get free.

    He tried to scream, but no sound came.

    As he sank deeper, a faint voice

    echoed in his head, growing louder with each passing second.

    ¡°Hey, look out! What the hell are

    you doing?¡± Kvran¡¯s loud scream snapped him back to reality.

    Stark¡¯s

    eyes returned back to focus. A half-burnt beast lunged at him, its

    maw wide open.

    It was too late to dodge.

    He braced himself, shutting his eyes,

    accepting his fate¡ª

    But nothing came.

    The beast froze mid-air, then

    collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

    [0:00:00]

    The

    timer finally stopped and the text materialized before them.

    [You

    have successfully passed the second wave.]

    Stark

    let out a long breath of relief.

    <i>I

    almost died. </i>

 Announcement

    Hello, Author here.

    For the past few weeks, I couldn''t write or post any chapters due to some health issues and some personal family problems. I don''t know how many people are reading my book or is it a dead wasteland devoid of any readers?. I have somewhat recovered and will be writing soon in the coming days.

    So, I really don''t know if I should continue this story; I feel like I have lost viewership from not posting for a long time. Also, the existing readers, I don''t know if they are even still reading.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    So I was thinking of reposting the story once again in a few days, or should I just continue posting this way? I also think I would make slight changes in the story.

    If any one of you is reading this note of mine. Please do drop your thoughts in the comments.

    Peace out. Hope you can understand my plight.