Amid the Fracture War, by the shores of Lake Leyenia.
Emerald leaves fall with the wind, settling onto the azure lake surface, an illustration of pulsating life and burgeoning vibrancy amidst a world at war.
There's a manor by the lake, with Carya's royal flag billowing against sturdy stone walls. Fully-armored soldiers patrol, the clinking contact of swords and armor echoing throughout. Beneath their helmets, solemn expressions are worn.
Ever since the Reialucaria Magic Academy imprisoned their dean - the Full Moon Queen Reynalla, the flames of war between the academy and the royal family have been relentless.
Now that the magicians and their minions have reached the royal family's last territory, crossing this manor would allow them standing at the gates of Carya's stronghold a few miles north.
The entirety of Carya's remaining forces mobilizes, from powerful knights, skilled soldiers, armed civilians, and magicians who have defected from the academy. All have their swords drawn and bowstrings drawn taut, overlooking the yet to be collected corpses and the vast encampments in the distance.
However, at the lake-side of the manor, a young man in a magic apprentice's attire sat by the wall. He had short black hair, with a golden glow of 'blessing' twinkling in his pale blue eyes, muttering to himself as he stared at the giant golden tree in the distance:
"Is there no end? Why does it always come back to the defense of a city?"
The bloody memory of the Siege of Weina still lingered, the sensation of his blade piercing through his enemy was still imprinted on his hands. He looked down at the dark blue magician's robe he was wearing, which had a metal name tag written in strange characters:
Daon Right.
With a rush of memories, this youth originally joined the magic academy and defected to the Carya royal family after his village was plundered by the Cuckoo Knights. Due to his timid nature, he had always been slacking off.
"You could have at least found me a decent body to use. What am I supposed to do as a magic apprentice?"
He smirked, then spat into the lake. But from the very beginning, he never had a choice. The ridiculous world the cynical god had chosen was meant for suffering, not a realm that should be selected by carbon-based beings.
Luckily, after being tormented in Sekiro, he had become accustomed to this.
"Never mind, a magician it is. This Elden Ring doesn't seem too bad, either."
Daon glanced at the golden tree in the distance again. According to the memories of this body, the Borderlands were still in the midst of the 'Fracture War', the Faded One had not returned, and even the manor under his feet had not yet become ruins.
But of course, it was not much better. Due to the shattering of the Elden Ring, the flames of war enveloped the Borderlands, from demigods to civilians, everyone was struggling in blood and fire. This 'Fracture War' could also be summarized in a famous saying: "As heaven's decree changes, divine artifacts pass on, and so shall the righteous return... What a load of BS."
Daon managed a self-deprecating smile. High-ranking individuals wanted nothing more than to seize pieces of the Elden Ring and ascend the throne. Meanwhile, for a mere magic apprentice like himself on the banks of Lake Leyenia, his task boiled down to something much simpler— survival.
Taking a deep breath, he habitually placed his hand on his waist, only to grab at air. With a rueful laugh, he glanced at the stubby apprentice's staff in his hands. Cupping his hands within the wide sleeves of his mage's robe, he strolled towards the center of the manor.
Several tents had been set up there. He could see Carya soldiers in full armor, along with ogre soldiers nearly ten meters tall. Several long tables were arranged in the center, and aside from the duty-bound soldiers, everyone was lining up for a meal.
"Daon, Daon, over here."
Just as he stepped off the stairs, a man dressed like a soldier called him over. The soldier wore his helmet askew on his somewhat juvenile face, complete with a mustache.
Daon paused for a moment, recognizing his old friend Arno from their village. He joined the queue without asking, and the soldiers behind him, upon seeing his mage's robe, kept their comments to themselves. After all, mages who had defected from the academy were a rarity, even mageling were considered precious during sieges.
"Speaking of which, Sir Pols mentioned you for a patrol mission this morning. Why didn't you show up?" Arno balanced on his tiptoes, holding his plate high, looking excited.
"Um, it would require me to take the waterway and I get seasick." Daon searched through his convoluted memories, getting a grasp of the nature of this body he occupied.
"Seasickness?" The young soldier blinked, turned towards Daon, his face turning serious. "Daon, I know you're scared, but in these times, it's already pretty good just to be alive. What if the manor gets attacked? Will those damned cuckoos listen to any explanations?"
"Of course not." Agreeing, Daon bobbed his head, a show of sudden comprehension on his face. He thought to himself that this friend sure knew how to read the room.
A magician's apprentice may be naive and timid, but those seasoned by the blades of the Ashina region were fully matured. There was no need to elaborate.
Arno let out a surprised grunt, his mind clearly not catching up. He presumed Daon had come to terms with their reality. While continuing to serve his meal, he started rambling
With their conversation going on, the cook started serving food onto their plates. Upon closer inspection, boiled crab meat, bread, and a bowl of soup made from Atlea leaves could be found on their plates.
Arno held up a piece of crab meat and flashed a toothy grin, "See, the food isn't too bad today, right? The guys from the second squad said they were planning on catching lobsters, and they ended up getting blasted back by a water cannon."
"Challenging the Lobster Monarch is daring; it's impressive," Daon thought, forcing himself to smile. He found an empty spot and sat cross-legged with this young soldier, savouring his meal.
The Carya army's cook knew his craft pretty well. He used a certain spice to mask the fishy taste of the crab meat, and the meat soup carried a rich and peculiar aroma. Tearing off a piece of bread and sandwiching it with the crab meat, then gulping it down with the meat soup got Daon's taste buds going. Between bites, he thought about the 'Hollowing Disease'.
He recalled when he used to be a player, the Borderlands was overrun with madmen, and the remaining living were so emaciated that it was almost horrifying. But now it seemed that the majority of the people looked normal, indirectly indicating that this was far earlier than the game era he remembered. He glanced towards the Golden Tree in the distance subconsciously, his hand holding the spoon paused mid-air.
"What are you thinking about? Are you done with the bread? If you don't want it, I'll take it," said Arno, making guilty moves to poke it with his hand.
Daon handed his bread over, looking at the cheerful face, he stated, "I was just thinking about how not to end up as a madman."
With their conversation going on, the cook started serving food onto their plates. Upon closer inspection, boiled crab meat, bread, and a bowl of soup made from Atlea leaves could be found on their plates.
Arno held up a piece of crab meat and flashed a toothy grin, "See, the food isn't too bad today, right? The guys from the second squad said they were planning on catching lobsters, and they ended up getting blasted back by a water cannon."
"Challenging the Lobster Monarch is daring; it's impressive," Daon thought, forcing himself to smile. He found an empty spot and sat cross-legged with this young soldier, savouring his meal.
The Carya army's cook knew his craft pretty well. He used a certain spice to mask the fishy taste of the crab meat, and the meat soup carried a rich and peculiar aroma. Tearing off a piece of bread and sandwiching it with the crab meat, then gulping it down with the meat soup got Daon's taste buds going. Between bites, he thought about the 'Hollowing Disease'.
He recalled when he used to be a player, the Borderlands was overrun with madmen, and the remaining living were so emaciated that it was almost horrifying. But now it seemed that the majority of the people looked normal, indirectly indicating that this was far earlier than the game era he remembered. He glanced towards the Golden Tree in the distance subconsciously, his hand holding the spoon paused mid-air.
"What are you thinking about? Are you done with the bread? If you don't want it, I'll take it," said Arno, making guilty moves to poke it with his hand.
Daon handed his bread over, looking at the cheerful face, he stated, "I was just thinking about how not to end up as a madman."
"Why bother thinking so much? The Hollowing Disease is an issue for the big shots to worry about. We just need to focus on repelling the Cuckoos and getting back to the village. Ah, also wondering if Mary has gotten married or not."
Such a statement, Daon had heard many times before. However, a humble swordsman and an elder had taught him one important lesson: Regardless of status, if one sought to survive, they had to fight.
As the cheerful chewing noises of the country young man went on, the far-off sound of iron boots scraping against the ground could be heard. Following the noise, Daon saw a dark figure walking along the wall.
The individual had a muscular build, clad in gray armor and a furry mantle. A large sword was strapped onto his back, and most distinguishing of all was the head - that of a menacing wolf.
"Sir Blaize is here," Arno murmured in a low voice, quickly standing up and wiping the grease from his mouth.
This wolf-man was a commander of the Carya army, serving the Moon Princess Lannie. Naturally, his standing was much higher than theirs, the ordinary soldiers. Daon promptly got up as well.
Such an overwhelming presence.
Even though he had just come from a chaotic battle, Daon squinted slightly. After all, the Borderlands was not a place of ordinary humans - this wolf-man was an enemy to thousands. Plus, this appearance felt oddly familiar to him.
Blaize, the one who became a wolf-man for Lannie, my source of transformation?
"Gentlemen, there is a reconnaissance mission this afternoon, and I need five volunteers," Blaize announced. His appearance was frighteningly ferocious, his voice stern with a commanding aura.
Many stuck in this besieged place were die-hard followers of Carya. As soon as his words fell, several people immediately stepped forward. However, Blaize didn't say a word. He simply cast a deep glance into a corner then quietly walked away.
Coincidentally, lunch had just ended. The soldiers gathered there dispersed each to their duties. As Daon and Arno were about to leave, a soldier approached them.
"Daon Lite, come with me."
There was no room for negotiation in his tone. Arno realized something in an instant and hurriedly approached with an awkward laugh, rubbing his hands together.
"Sir, about this morning's..."
Before he could finish his words, the soldier gripped his shoulder. When he turned around, he didn't see any panic on his friend's face.
"Stop pleading, I'll go."
"Hey, are you crazy? Reconnaissance missions are dangerous!"
"It was your speech just now that made me see the light. Having eaten the Carya's food, it's only right I put in work. Otherwise, wouldn't it be worse if I'm subjected to military law?" Daon was unfazed. Seizing Arno's moment of stupefaction, he grabbed his straight sword leaning against the wall corner. He pulled it out partially and seeing the cold glint with a layer of oil on it, he sheathed it with satisfaction.
The sword was three feet long, the hilt was slightly blue, and the overall shape formed a 'T'. It was the most common two-handed straight sword in these Borderlands. He weighed it and decided it was just passable.
"Please, lead the way."
The soldier hadn't anticipated this apprentice to be so polite and friendly, but he realized the individual didn't really have a choice. Thus, he led him away, leaving Arno scratching his head, feeling that his friend was different from usual after just a simple lunch.
The manor cum fortress was coincidentally located on the vital route leading to the Carya King's City. The outer wall cut off the mountain road, and the inner side was flat as a plateau. The right side was a lake, and the left was dense forest.
At the edge of the forest, a tent was set up. The wolf-man Blaize was seated on the ground. Around him lay the bodies of some Cuckoo soldiers. Dragooned civilians efficiently removed the armor and weapons from the corpses, piling them up on the side.
Blaize had received the report and recognized the newcomer, Daon, the lackluster apprentice. His first thought was that the latter was trying to make an escape. He furrowed his brows, revealing several pale, sharp teeth.
"Are you sure about this? Trying to be smart in front of me won't work."
Facing the question, Daon rested his sword on the ground, inhaling the faint smell of blood in the air, his mind free of distractions.
It was nauseating, yet so familiar it brought a sense of nostalgia. Several figures flashed in his mind.
The silent ninja, the unruly swordmaster, the warrior with a mission to save his kind – everything overlapped with the current scenario of armored soldiers and the city at hand.
With these thoughts in mind, the former Sword Spectre, now an apprentice, straightened his back and responded with confidence:
"I'm in."