The wind was quiet. The trees in the ruined cities did not move. The land ahead was dead, covered in broken stones and cracked earth. Long ago, it had been a proud city, its walls strong and its buildings are tall. But now, it was a graveyard of memories. The buildings were shattered, roofs caved in, and streets choked with vines and dust. The evil gods had once sent their monsters here to destroy it, and they had succeeded.
Protheus stood at the of a buolding, wearing his long white cloak. His pure white hair waved slightly as a soft breeze passed. His eyes were calm, but sharp, glowing faintly with magical power.
He didn't speak. He simply raised his hand, and a small golden light floated above his palm. The light slowly drifted forward, guiding his path.
He stepped into the ruined city.
With every step, dust and gravel crunched under his boots. His senses stretched out in every direction. He could feel the presence of monsters, beasts that had been left behind by the evil gods. They hid in the shadows, waiting, hunting anything that moved.
But they were not the hunters today.
Protheus was.
As he moved deeper into the city, he raised one hand. A magical circle appeared beneath him, glowing softly with white light. It was a spell of purification—one of many he had mastered over the centuries. This magic would protect the city from more corruption and cleanse any evil left behind.
From behind a broken wall, a creature lunged. It had a long, snake-like body covered in dark red scales. Its eyes glowed green with hate, and black mist oozed from its fangs. But Protheus was faster. He flicked his fingers, and a beam of light shot out, piercing the creature's skull. It fell to the ground with a hiss, its body twitching once before going still.
Protheus stepped closer and knelt. He placed his hand over the creature's chest, and a soft blue light flowed from his palm. The light moved into the monster's body, surrounding its core, the magical heart that powered all beasts of darkness.
As the light circled the core, the black mist around it vanished. Protheus purified the magic, removing every trace of the evil gods' influence. When the core glowed a soft silver-blue, he nodded in approval.
He raised his other hand and opened a small portal beside him, his magical storage. Inside, he kept important items and treasures, protected by powerful spells. He placed the purified core inside and closed the portal.
This was the first of many.
He continued walking, not stopping, not resting. Time moved slowly in the ruins. Daylight dimmed as heavy clouds rolled in above. Yet Protheus never faltered. He moved like a shadow—silent, fast, and deadly.
More monsters came.
A pair of winged beasts swooped down from above, claws outstretched. Protheus raised a barrier of light, and the creatures slammed into it, their screams echoing through the broken streets. With a sweep of his hand, he summoned a spear made of pure magic and threw it. It pierced one beast through the chest. The second tried to flee, but a chain of golden energy caught it and dragged it back. Another flash of light, and it was gone.
One by one, the monsters fell. They were not weak, but they were nothing compared to him.
Each time he killed a monster, he purified its magical core and placed it into his storage. He worked without pause, collecting not for himself, but for the children back at the citadel. These cores, once cleansed, would help the students grow stronger—boosting their magic, sharpening their elemental powers, and strengthening their bodies. Some cores held the power of flame, others ice, wind, or stone. Each would be useful in training the next generation of protectors.
Protheus never hesitated.
He found a large creature hiding inside a broken temple. It was huge, like a wolf with four arms and thick black fur. It charged at him with a roar, shaking the broken floor beneath them. Protheus calmly stepped aside, and the creature crashed into the wall.
Before it could rise, he pressed his palm to the ground. The stone lit up, and chains of light burst from it, wrapping around the monster. It struggled, growled, and screamed, but it could not escape.
"I free you from the evil that binds your soul," Protheus said quietly.
His words carried power, and the creature froze. A circle of light formed around its heart, and slowly, the darkness faded. The beast stopped moving. A moment later, it vanished into dust, leaving only a glowing core behind. Protheus collected it as he had the others
Hour after hour passed. The city, once full of evil, was growing quieter. The light Protheus used in his magic began to settle in the ruins, seeping into the stones and earth, cleansing the land itself.
Protheus walked deeper into the ruined city. The sky was still dull, covered in grey clouds that hung low and heavy. Broken towers leaned at dangerous angles. Cracked streets split open in many places, and the remains of homes and shops stood like hollow skeletons.
But none of it slowed him down. His steps were silent. His cloak barely moved in the air. He didn't need light to see. His eyes, glowing faintly, saw more than what normal humans could.
The monsters here were not natural. They were born from the twisted power of the evil gods. Some crawled like insects, others stalked like beasts. Some looked like humans from far away but were horrors up close—skin burned black, eyes glowing red, jaws filled with jagged teeth.
But Protheus didn't stop.
He moved with purpose.
One creature leapt at him from the roof of a broken house, its body long and thin, limbs stretched like ropes. Protheus raised one hand and a spear of light burst from his palm. It pierced the monster through the chest. The creature let out a sharp cry before turning to ash.
He stepped over the remains and reached down, his fingers hovering just above the fading ash. A small core of magic shimmered in the debris—dark and pulsing with corrupted power.
He closed his eyes and whispered a few words. A soft glow surrounded the core, and the blackness within it slowly faded. The twisted energy drained away like smoke caught in the wind. When he opened his eyes again, the core was bright, warm, and clean.
He gently picked it up and placed it inside his magical storage.
Each core was precious.
Each one could help a student grow stronger—could sharpen their magic, boost their strength, deepen their elemental control. But only if purified. Only if free of the evil essence.
Protheus continued through the ruins. More monsters came, drawn to him. Some were fast. Others flew above him. Some tried to hide in shadows and strike when he passed. But they were no match.
He moved like wind through the streets. Quiet. Cold. Unstoppable.
He cast no large spells. There were no explosions. No giant waves of power. His attacks were swift and clean—bolts of light, spears of force, circles of sharp magic that sliced through darkness.
For every monster he defeated, he purified a core and placed it in his storage. Some cores were strong. Others were faint. But each one was saved.
After hours of walking, he reached the center of the ruined city.
Here, the air was thicker. Magic swirled around the broken buildings. A tall statue of one of the evil gods once stood here, but now it was just a pile of rubble. He didn't look at it long.
A wave of monsters guarded the center. Over a dozen. More than he had faced in any one place so far. But he didn't pause.
He raised his hand and magic circles appeared around him—quiet and smooth. Not a single word left his mouth, but the circles spun faster, glowing brighter, and when he stepped forward, the monsters rushed him all at once.
They didn't last.
One by one they fell. Not a single drop of blood touched the ground. Their bodies crumbled, leaving only dust and corrupted cores behind.
Protheus stood still for a moment after the last one fell. The wind blew lightly. He turned slowly, taking in the broken buildings, the empty streets, the silence that had returned.
Then he knelt and began purifying the cores one by one.
The golden glow of his magic was soft and steady. He did not rush. Every core was treated with care. Every trace of evil removed.
When he was done, he stood and looked at the sky. The clouds hadn't cleared, but the wind had changed direction—blowing gently to the north, as if guiding him.
He didn't speak. He simply turned and began walking again, his cloak brushing against the stones.
There was more to collect. More to clean. More to prepare.
He knew the students would need everything they could get. These cores would shape their future. Their growth. Their survival.
And not just them. Others would come in the future—survivors from other lands, maybe even other worlds. All would need strength. All would need hope.
And so, without rest, without pause, Protheus hunted through the ruined cities.