In the midst of a forest shrouded in dense, suffocating fog, south of the Celestial continent, lies the forbidden zone known as the Primordial Forest. A place where murderous beasts lurk in the shadows and the very air itself is infused with a poison that corrodes the will of those who dare to breathe too deeply.
Plants that poison the air coexist in harmony, while other hidden terrors wait in its depths like treasures forgotten by time itself.
For all this, it is considered an SSS rank danger zone, the most lethal in the world. A place where many venture to try their fortune, but few manage to escape... or even dare to enter.
At the heart of this place rise mountains that, during the day, shine like the sun itself, but when night falls, they are completely darkened, as if they had never existed.
A whisper in the air, a ripple in reality.
Suddenly, one of them trembles, as if something inside it is struggling to escape. The movements intensify until, with a deafening roar, the mountain splits in two.
The dust finally settles, and the first rays of dawn illuminate a lone figure. Wrapped in a black robe that devoured the light around him, the young man emerged from the depths of the rock, as if born from the darkness itself.
His intense blood-coloured eyes scan the horizon coldly.
-Five seconds. No more.
His voice expresses no anger, no impatience. Only certainty.
Two hooded men emerge from beneath the earth, each wielding a black sword, ready to strike at any moment. They stand in front of the boy, their imposing presences full of lethal intent.
-It seems our master was right... you are still alive. But not for long.
They move with speed, attacking from different angles and targeting vital points. Their movements are lethal, precise, designed to kill without mercy.
The young man barely moves his arm, an almost imperceptible gesture.
A heartbeat of silence spreads through the forest. Then, two piercing screams erupt like a storm, shattering the stillness.
The attackers retreat. One falls to the ground, spitting blood uncontrollably until the life leaves him. The other, on his knees, thrusts his sword into the earth in desperation; pools of blood gush from his ears and nose.
-Just one move? How is that possible?
-You alone, on the legendary level, are not enough to take my life.
-Never mind... just wait until our master hears of your return. He is not one to simply watch... He devours. And he will do it with you.
The young man maintains an unperturbed expression.
-I don't think he knows yet.
With a sigh an object crosses the air like a fleeting shadow. Effortlessly, the young man reaches out his fingers and catches what is coming towards him.
A hooded head. Still wide-eyed, empty.
With a sigh an object crosses the air like a fleeting shadow. Effortlessly, the young man reaches out his fingers and catches what is coming towards him.
A hooded head. Still wide-eyed, empty.
-Only three guarding this area... it seems he thought he would never come back.
A smile spread across his face. With a soft snap of his fingers, a dark fire consumed the bodies until there was no trace of their existence.
He sighed. Not of relief, not of exhaustion... A sigh without emotion... though deep down, he knew that this was only the beginning.
And then, as if obeying a silent command, the mountain rebuilds itself. Every rock returns to its place, every crack disappears, every trace of the battle is devoured by oblivion.
With this, it seemed that no one had ever left the place. There was no trace of a fight, no sign of any presence.
He shook out his robe, letting the last vestige of dust fall to the ground. Then, without haste, he began to rise.
But he did not fly. It did not ascend. It just stopped being there.
================================
A little further from the Primordial Forest, among towering mountains that once symbolised strength, stands the Sect of Creation. Though the landscape envelops it in its wild beauty, it is no longer a bastion of power, its splendour crumbling along with its walls.
Decades ago, it was the most powerful on the continent. Thousands of members filled its grounds with life and energy. But now, the picture was different: the sect was in decline.
The sect that once dominated the continent now lay in its tomb of stone and ruins. The mountains that once protected it now seemed to watch its slow demise with cruel indifference.
It belonged to one of the four sects of the Mythoria kingdom, a place full of ancient myths and legends. However, since its founder disappeared, many have taken advantage of it to attack it.
The truth of his disappearance remains shrouded in shadows. Some claim he died in battle, others say he transcended beyond this world. But there was a rumour whispered among the few who remained: "He is not gone" "He waits".
There were countless casualties after their departure, and the sect fell to the bottom of the hierarchy of power in the region.
To survive, they were forced to accept an agreement with the king himself:
They could never go out and recruit new members.
They had to obey every order sent out.
Pay an annual fee to maintain the sect.
Reduce their territory.
Any non-compliance would mean eradication.
At first, they put up with the situation. But over time, the number of members dwindled drastically, from dozens to just three. Some disappeared, others died in strange ways, and all this dragged them towards an inevitable collapse.
Inside the sect, only a few ruined houses remained in the students' and teachers' quarters. The area for the elders to rest was practically destroyed. Even the central, most protected area, where the leader was located, was damaged to the point of collapse.
The sect that once reigned over the entire continent was now nothing more than a ghost town.
Inside the sect, only a few ruined houses remained in the students' and teachers' quarters. The area for the elders to rest was practically destroyed. Even the central, most protected area, where the leader was located, was damaged to the point of collapse.
The sect that once reigned over the entire continent was now nothing more than a ghost town.
-Oof! Brother, why do you always train alone? You could help me with my training. As an Elder of the sect, you should teach me.
About ten metres away, a young girl with long blonde hair and green eyes was watching him. Anyone would be captivated by her gaze, but at that moment, kicking on the ground and crying like a baby, she looked more like a child lost in the forest looking for her mother. Her current state would drive anyone away, more out of desperation than anything else.
-Roxan, you're very noisy. Besides, you're always complaining about the way I train you and then you run off with dad. How do you expect me to teach you anything?
She stopped complaining, wiped away her tears, and stuck her tongue out at him.
-Brother, you are boring. Your training is just meditation, more meditation, and then more meditation.
-Whew," he sighed, opening his eyes to look at her, "You know my techniques are wind style. I only know the meditation training to perceive the air around me as part of my body. Besides, I told you to call me Elder or at least use my name.
-Forgive me, O ancestral Elder, the greatest of the sect! Forgive me my sin, hehehe.
Laughing, Roxan rolled on the floor, clutching her stomach.
-Why did fate give me such an annoying little sister?
But deep down, the tenderness was mixed with a weight that would never go away.
He stood up and shook out his robe, but suddenly the air changed. It was no longer quiet.
A dry sound cut through the calm. A rustle, faint but unmistakable, just beyond the door.
He rose slowly, unhurriedly, but his eyes now reflected a dangerous edge.
Something was lurking beyond the entrance. And it did not come in peace.
-Who's there? Show yourself!