With the rising sun, the sound of birds and the fresh morning breeze flowed in through the window, creating a symphony of nature that gently stirred the slumber of a handsome 17-year-old boy. His distinctive features, including his ruby-like red eyes, purple hair, and a physique that bore witness to dedicated training, marked him as a young man of exceptional potential. Stretching leisurely, he rose from his bed, letting his bare feet sink into the soft carpeted floor. The sun's rays bathed the room in a warm golden hue, accentuating the subtle curves of the furniture and casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls. With languid grace, he made his way to the open window, his movements imbued with a subtle elegance, as if each step were part of a carefully choreographed dance routine.
Peering outside, he fixated his gaze on the slowly ascending sun, a ball of fiery gold that painted the sky with streaks of radiant pink and orange. There was a childlike wonder in his eyes, a glimmer of something long-forgotten, as if the rising sun were a harbinger of hope in a world darkened by loss and tragedy.
'I used to wake up early with you, sister, just to watch the sunrise. Don't you agree... ha... you're dead. Who am I even talking to? Would you still be alive if you hadn't gone to battle in that war?' he murmured softly, the corners of his lips betraying a mixture of melancholy and regret. A shadow of grief passed fleetingly over his face, etching lines of sorrow and longing that bespoke a tale of untold loss.
His gaze, still fixated on the sun, reflected the turmoil within, the weight of memories and unanswered questions pressing down upon him. 'No point in arguing. Let's see what I can do,' he said, his voice barely a whisper as he exhaled slowly, as if releasing the burden of the past with each breath. With a determined air, he crossed the room, his steps barely making a sound on the plush carpet, and approached the bookshelf nestled against the far wall.
The bookshelf, a treasure trove of knowledge and forgotten tales, stood as a silent sentinel to the passage of time. The aged tomes, their leather spines cracked and faded, whispered of centuries-old secrets waiting to be unraveled. With a practiced hand, he reached out and selected a weathered volume, its once ornate cover now worn and frayed, a testament to the countless hands that had sought its wisdom.
'Four hundred years ago, the world was plunged into chaos and endless slaughter by a war known as the Bloody War of Gods...' he read aloud from the book, his voice carrying the weight of history and tragedy. As he delved deeper into the pages, the memories of an ancient conflict came alive before his eyes, painting vivid images of a world torn asunder by the whims of power-hungry deities and the folly of their ambitions.
This devastating conflict saw the deities, consumed by their avarice for a mystical artifact, tear each other apart, leading to a cataclysm that transformed the very fabric of existence. The tale unfolded with an intricate complexity, revealing the emergence of monstrous creatures and the profound metamorphosis of every living being, including the tragic extinction of the dwarves.
In the aftermath of the war, the rise of the Rose and Dawn guilds stood as a testament to the fractured yet resilient world. Empress Silvia Arthur and Elf Queen Arina Quent's efforts to forge peace faltered, with subsequent conflicts leading to the decimation of the few surviving beastmen and the elves kingdom.
His brows furrowed as he absorbed the accounts of devastation and destruction, the carnage that once painted the world a vivid shade of crimson, staining the very fabric of existence with the blood of countless lives lost to the madness of divine warfare. The story unfolded with an intricacy that mirrored the complexities of the human heart, unveiling a narrative of greed, betrayal, and ultimately, redemption.
The sun, now fully ascended, cast a warm glow over the room, bathing everything in a soft, golden light that seemed to infuse the air with a gentle warmth, as if seeking to ease the burden of the tale being recounted within those walls. Knocking on the door interrupted his reverie, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness of the room, as if hesitant to disrupt the quietude that had enveloped the space. A gentle voice, muffled by the thick wooden door, reminded him of the impending duties that awaited him beyond the confines of his room.
A slight frown played at the corners of his mouth, an indication of his reluctance to leave the cocoon of solitude that had wrapped itself around him, shielding him from the outside world and its ceaseless demands. The voice belonged to a maid, her presence signified by the soft rustle of fabric and the faint aroma of fresh herbs and flowers that trailed in her wake.
He acknowledged her presence with a barely perceptible nod, allowing her to leave before suddenly noticing something intriguing outside the window, a flicker of movement that caught his attention and stirred within him a sense of curiosity and adventure. His face lit up with a childlike excitement, the weight of the past momentarily forgotten as he abandoned the comfort of his room and bounded towards the source of the sudden commotion.
The maid, left behind in the room, mumbled in frustration and embarrassment as she watched his figure disappear into the dense forest, her own features a mix of concern and exasperation. 'So fast, I couldn't stop him, even though I'm a high-ranking adventurer now. What will I say to his elder brother? Oh no...'
In the forest, he moved with a fluidity and grace that betrayed a familiarity with the terrain, a sense of belonging that transcended mere physical boundaries and marked him as a denizen of the wilds. His senses, sharpened by years of honed instinct and vigilant watchfulness, guided him towards the presence that had stirred within the tranquil embrace of the forest, disrupting the delicate balance that had reigned undisturbed for centuries.
The forest, shrouded in a canopy of verdant foliage, embraced him like an old friend, whispering secrets and stories of forgotten times, of ancient magics and long-lost civilizations that had once flourished in the heart of these mystical woods. The air, crisp and invigorating, filled his lungs with the sweet scent of pine and earth, transporting him to a realm where time held no sway and the only currency that mattered was the pulse of life that beat within his veins.
As he approached his target, a surge of energy and anticipation coursed through him, igniting a fire within that burned with an intensity that threatened to consume him. 'I sense three unknown powerful presences 4km away. One seems to be a wounded prey lying on the ground, but the other two appear strong and well-built. Are they bandits? No, that couldn't be true in the demon nation. Who are they, and how did they enter my territory? Their mana doesn't resemble that of a demon.'
A mischievous grin played on his lips, his eyes twinkling with an inner mirth that belied the seriousness of the situation at hand. 'This will do, I guess. Should I blow the whole forest away? No, that would be bad. Whatever, let's see how powerful my new spell, Hell Fire Inferno, is...'
With a barely perceptible flick of his wrist, he conjured a surge of purple flames that surged forth like a tempest unleashed, swallowing everything in their path and moving towards the target with a speed and ferocity that left no room for escape.
Earlier, a young boy, blood-stained and wounded, ran through the forest, his breath ragged and his steps faltering with each passing moment. The forest seemed to envelop him, offering solace and refuge from the darkness that pursued him relentlessly, threatening to consume him whole. His eyes, wide with fear.
Leaving a trail of blood behind. Injured and fatigued, he attempted to escape his pursuers, but his body soon gave in. As he fell, an arrow struck his left arm, indicating the arrival of two skilled archers.
'Don't let him get away. I've got his left arm. Now, your turn. Let's catch that rat,' one of them declared, setting off in pursuit.
The desperate boy, struggling to stay alive, pulled out the arrow but found himself collapsing onto the ground, his strength dwindling rapidly. With a faint voice, he pleaded, 'I have to... escape... I don't want to go back...'
As his consciousness faded, the boy fell unconscious, his fate uncertain. Noticing the impending danger, the two men prepared themselves, but they were too late. The purple flames engulfed them, reducing everything in their wake to ashes.
In a flash, Larsen reached the boy and, using his teleportation ability, transported them to safety. He began the process of healing the boy's wounds, only to be startled by what he found beneath the boy's cloak.
'What in the world are you?' he muttered, astonished to discover that the injured boy was none other than a beastmen.