Meanwhile, Ark and Mizan, having left the bustling prosperity of Brightshores City and its surrounding territories, were traveling on foot through the dense expanse of Everdusk Forest. The air was heavy with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves. Towering trees, their bark thick and gnarled with age, reached high into the sky, their branches interwoven to form a dense canopy. Sunlight flickered through the leaves, casting sporadic patches of light onto the forest floor, which was strewn with fallen twigs and leaves, softening their footsteps.
Ark walked with an easy, almost carefree stride, his long cloak flowing behind him as he moved without hurry. His eyes scanned the surroundings lazily, catching glimpses of wildlife moving through the dense brush. Mizan, in contrast, lagged a few paces behind. His leather backpack sat heavily on his shoulders, sweat dotted his brow, and his breathing was labored as he tried to keep pace with Ark. It was clear that the strain of walking for half a day without using his ability was beginning to show.
Breaking the comfortable silence, Ark turned to Mizan. "Tell me more about this empire and the nations surrounding it."
Mizan shrugged, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "I don't know much beyond the eastern region we're in now," he admitted, his tone casual. "But I can share what's common knowledge."
Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Mizan began. "The Brightmoon Empire is divided into five main regions. There's the eastern region where we are now, the southern region, the western region, the northern region, and the central region, which houses the royal palace."
He wiped his brow and continued. "The southern region is dominated by the Arson family. They're powerful—legend says their heritage spans thousands of years, even older than the empire itself. They act as both the guardians of the southern border and rulers of the entire region."
As they wove their way through the towering trees, Mizan's voice softened slightly. "The northern region, on the other hand, is shared between two main families: the Bendrick family and the Winterlock family. Together, they protect the northern border from threats emerging from the Dragonhelm Great Mountain Range."
Ark raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued as he asked about the Dragonhelm Great Mountain Range, prompting Mizan to suppress a sigh as he thought, 'This guy really knows nothing. Where is he even from?' After a moment of deliberation, Mizan stopped walking and squatted down. Picking up a nearby tree branch, he began sketching in the dirt.
Ark paused, watching silently as Mizan drew a rough vertical rectangle on the ground. "The continent we're on is called Alvorn," Mizan began, gesturing to the rectangle. "If you could see it from above, it might look something like this." He then drew a horizontal line near the top of the rectangle, splitting it into two unequal sections—one smaller, one larger—with a three-to-seven ratio. Pointing to the line, Mizan continued, "This is the Dragonhelm Great Mountain Range."
Ark crouched beside him, his sharp eyes taking in the drawing. Mizan tapped the line with the stick. "The range stretches from the eastern edge of the continent all the way to the western edge. It divides the northern part of Alvorn from the rest of the land. Some say it's the backbone of the continent, both geographically and historically."
Mizan's voice dropped slightly, taking on a more serious tone. "The mountain range is named Dragonhelm because, according to legend, dragons ruled over it long ago. Maybe they still do. The range is shrouded in mystery—and danger. People claim there are ancient ruins hidden within the mountains, filled with treasures, rare artifacts, and lost knowledge. But those who venture too far rarely come back. It's not just the creatures and mythical dragons that make it deadly; the environment itself is harsh and unforgiving."
Ark's gaze lingered on the drawing, his expression unreadable. "Dragons, you say?" he muttered, almost as if speaking to himself.
Mizan raised an eyebrow, unsure how to interpret Ark's reaction. "Yeah, dragons," he repeated. "Most people dismiss them as myths, but there are enough stories to keep the idea alive. Travelers speak of massive shadows in the sky, the sound of wings like thunder, and roars that echo for miles. Even if the dragons aren't real, the other creatures in those mountains are deadly enough to make most think twice before setting foot there."
Ark stroking his chin, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Sounds like an interesting place."
"Interesting?!" Mizan exclaimed, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "You mean terrifying, right? The only people who even consider going there are powerful adventurers, lunatics, or both."
Ark chuckled softly, his expression unreadable. "Maybe," he said, offering no further explanation.
Mizan groaned, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. "Please tell me you're not seriously considering a trip to the Dragonhelm Great Mountain Range?"
"Not today," Ark replied with infuriating calmness, his tone as light as ever. "But someday? Who knows?"
Mizan let out another sigh, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of the man in front of him. 'What kind of person am I even following?'
He then continued to gesture at the diagram, pointing to the northern section beyond the Dragonhelm Great Mountain Range. "This land up here belongs to one of the three great empires of Alvorn: the Eternal Frost Empire," he said.
Ark tilted his head slightly. "Eternal Frost Empire? What's it like?"
Mizan shrugged. "Massive, sure, but most of it is just frozen wastelands. Harsh, barren, and inhospitable. Only a few key areas thrive, where the land can support life. They've adapted to the cold, though, and they're said to be an unyielding people—tough as the ice they live on."
Mizan then shifted his focus to the southern part of the rectangle, below the horizontal line. "Now, down here is where we are. On the east side below the Dragonhelm Great Mountain Range lies the Brightmoon Empire—our empire. And on the west side," he drew an arc over the western section below the horizontal line, "mirroring us is the Ashcore Empire."
The name lingered in Ark's mind, a faint, nagging familiarity tugging at him. He glanced at Mizan, recalling an earlier exchange. "The Ashcore Empire… That's the one you thought I was from, right? When we first met, you thought I was a spy?."