In the far reaches of the Zephyrian Empire, where the sun's rays beat down with fierce intensity upon the arid and unforgiving lands, a boy was born destined for greatness. He was not greeted with celebration, but rather with a stern gaze of assessment. His parents knew that only the strong, the fearless, would survive in this world of war and conquest.
And so, from the earliest moments of his existence, he was tested. His dark eyes were scrutinized for determination, his still-weak voice echoed with the resonance of courage. And when the elders saw that he possessed the indomitable spirit of a true Zephyrian son, he was baptized in the fire of combat.
From a tender age, he was instructed in the ways of war, the arts of battle, and the devotion to the Empire. Weakness was never permitted, retreat was never an option. He was taught to view death not as defeat, but as an honorable passage to the beyond—a glorious destiny reserved only for the bravest and most loyal children of Zephyria.
He grew up with the sound of war drums echoing in his ears, the gleam of swords shining in his eyes. And with each sunrise, he knew that his life belonged not to himself, but to the Empire he had sworn to protect with his very existence. For him, to die on the battlefield for Zephyria was the highest honor he could aspire to in his lifetime.
Erebus of Zephyria, the King of Zephyria, rose from the ashes of obscurity to reign over the lands like an unyielding storm. Born to army officers, he carried the blood of war in his veins, but it was his own strength, intelligence, and brutality that elevated him to the highest position a man could attain: the supreme governorship of the Zephyrian Empire.
With the Zephyrian army at his feet, Erebus launched himself upon Europe like a ravenous predator, devouring entire nations in his insatiable quest for power and glory. War after war, battle after battle, he advanced inexorably, leaving a trail of destruction and desolation in his wake.
The kingdoms and empires that once boasted independence now trembled before the overwhelming might of the Zephyrians. Cities fell, fortresses were seized, and those who dared challenge Erebus's reign were crushed beneath the weight of his merciless wrath.
Europe, once a mosaic of nations and cultures, was now being shaped in Zephyria's image. Its people were subjugated, its leaders bent to Erebus's will, and its lands became part of the vast empire he had sworn to build with his own sweat and blood.
But even as the banners of Zephyria fluttered over the conquered lands, a shadow of discontent loomed on the horizon. For Erebus of Zephyria, the King of Zephyria, knew that his journey toward absolute domination was far from over. And with each victory achieved, his thirst for power only grew, fueled by the promise of a grand destiny awaiting beyond the horizon.
As the shadow of Erebus of Zephyria stretched across Europe, the global world watched with increasing alarm at the destruction left in its wake. It was evident that the mighty Zephyrian Empire was far from content with its current conquests.
Faced with the imminent threat posed by the Zephyrians, world leaders united in an unprecedented alliance known as the Resistance. It was a coalition formed by empires, kingdoms, and civilizations from all corners of the world, united under a single purpose: to resist the tyranny and insatiable expansion of Zephyria.
While many kings and emperors trembled at the prospect of facing Erebus's formidable power and his empire, Erebus himself welcomed the challenge with a sadistic smile on his lips. "Is this all to try and defeat my empire?" he taunted, his eyes burning with wild intensity. "Bring it on! For nothing can halt the relentless march of Zephyria!"
And so, as the world prepared for the impending war, Erebus of Zephyria impatiently awaited the moment when he could unleash his legions against the Resistance, yearning for the battle that would determine the fate of the world. For him, war was not merely about conquering territory or expanding his dominion; it was an opportunity to prove his supremacy and indomitable will to all who dared challenge him.
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In a field with low, well-tended green grass, bloodstains marked the ground. Bodies clad in silver armor lay scattered, while others in gleaming golden armor impaled the fallen with spears and swords.
In the distance, a mound of bodies rose—an immense quantity. At the pinnacle of this mound stood a man of strong, towering stature. His black, sweat-soaked hair fell disorderly over his forehead, and a well-groomed, intimidating beard adorned his face. His dark, determined eyes were fixed on a book he held in his hands.
The sight left some soldiers who were still skewering corpses with a certain disdain. After all, they had just fought a war, lives had been lost, and there sat the man, perched upon the cadavers, immersed in reading. But the more seasoned warriors, those who had fought alongside him, merely exchanged knowing laughs.
"King Erebus loves to read after battles," a soldier proudly commented to a newcomer. The young man's curious gaze fixed upon the figure amidst the bodies. "He says that reading is the most comforting thing during rest." The soldier's tone was respectful and laden with pride for their king.
Hours later, the soldiers gathered in a circle around a large bonfire. About one hundred of them shared wooden bowls filled with chicken soup. The aroma hung in the air, and as they ate, their voices intertwined in lively conversation. Despite the recent battles, the atmosphere was festive.
Suddenly, a visibly intoxicated soldier stood up and projected his voice, capturing everyone's attention: "Erebus of Zephyria, brother of Haijin, sons of Vagner and Arcadia." A brief pause followed, and those present, including the newcomers, halted their meals to listen to the speech.
"King," he proclaimed, "they say that as a child, Erebus killed a bear with his own hands."
Erebus, standing apart from all, gazed at the horizon, still absorbing the words of his man's speech.
"They say that our father, the mighty Odinithar, the Father of Gods, blessed him with greatness and chose him to lead our people to victory," the intoxicated soldier continued, proud to share this story that sprang from the heart. Everyone there felt the same sensation.
"Erebus had never asked for more than a sword. A son forged in the flames of battle. Even after countless fights, victories, and conquests, his sole demand persisted: 'Give me a sword,'" he declared.
"His enemies fell one by one, and the name of Erebus of Zephyria echoed beyond the borders. For the people we burn today, for those we will burn tomorrow, and for the rest of the world that would know our march and war song, Erebus of Zephyria is the most dangerous man in the world."
In the twilight of night, soldiers gathered around the bonfire, their eyes gleaming with pride. Having Erebus as their king was an honor, and the sovereign himself, with his imposing beard and steely gaze, smiled, savoring the echoing words.
"The Most Dangerous Man in the World," they called him. But Erebus preferred another title, one that would resonate in bardic songs and tavern legends: "Erebus the Conqueror."
He hadn't merely invaded Europe; he had turned it into his own backyard. Kingdoms fell like pieces on a chessboard, and enemy armies dissolved like dust in the wind. Once proud kings now knelt, pleading for mercy.
Erebus, forged in the heat of battle, was a war genius. Some called him the god of war, others a living legend. His name echoed across the battlegrounds, and his sword cut like an inexorable fate.
Erebus of Zephyria, the Conqueror—his name would be etched in the stars and whispered by the wind until the end of time, or so he imagined…
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In the quiet of the early morning, while everyone rested in their makeshift cabins, the bonfire crackled, casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. Erebus, the tireless warrior, found solace in the nighttime silence. It was the perfect moment to resume his reading.
With calloused hands, he retrieved a book from inside his coat. The weathered brown leather cover revealed the title in golden letters: "The Return of the Strongest Hunter." This book was his faithful companion, always present on his journeys and battles.
The origin of this gift was as enigmatic as the witch who had bestowed it upon him. She claimed to have crossed continents to deliver it to Erebus. "This book," she said, "will make you begin after the end." The meaning eluded the warrior, but he knew that witches were mysterious creatures, whispering secrets among the stars. So, Erebus disregarded the riddle and delved into the pages, seeking answers and perhaps, just perhaps, a fresh start.
The book "The Return of the Strongest Hunter" chronicles the journey of a boy named T'Griffin, reincarnated from another world. In that previous world, there were hunters who delved into dungeons and battled monsters, and T'Griffin was the strongest among them. However, he was betrayed and killed. Now, in a new world with similar concepts, he seeks to reach the pinnacle once more.
200 years ago, humans found themselves in the midst of a war between angels and demons, a conflict dubbed the "Holy War" or the "Apocalypse". In this apocalyptic scenario, humans stand at the epicenter of the struggle. Angels and demons clash like titans, and the very fabric of reality trembles under their blows. But there is something more, something that transcends mortal flesh and bones: mana.
Mana, this primordial energy, flows across the battlefields. Angels wield it to raise flaming swords and heal wounds.
Thanks to this war, mana—an energy the angels used to fight against the demons—became intertwined with planet Earth and merged with humans, creating the first Awakened.
However, demons also possessed a similar energy: Cursed Mana. This energy is malevolent but profoundly incompatible with Earth. Only a select group of humans can access it, and all who possess it have their minds cursed, transforming into their worst versions—the djinn.
Erebus found great fascination in this book, perhaps because T'Griffin's journey intrigued him. The one who had once been the greatest was killed by lesser beings, betrayed by his friends, and without a chance for revenge, he was cast into another world, reincarnated as a baby—a human born only once every thousand years.
However, T'Griffin, arrogant, believed that ascending to the top would be easy in this new world. He thought he had been blessed, after all, being born with a powerful ability: "The Eyes of the Apocalypse." Each eye corresponded to one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse:
The first eye, crimson as blood, was the Eye of War, granting visions of imminent conflict and destruction.
The second, a dark green, was the Eye of Famine, revealing scarcity and despair that would plague the lands.
The third, sickly pale, was the Eye of Pestilence, anticipating devastating plagues and diseases.
Lastly, the deep black eye was the Eye of Death, foreseeing the last breaths and the end of all things.
Those who possessed the Eyes were both feared and revered, for their sight transcended the bounds of reality and time. Yet, they also bore the weight of a terrible responsibility, as their fate was entwined with that of the world and the very Horsemen they represented.
But T'Griffin, beyond this ability, also had the gift of wielding both mana and cursed mana without corrupting his mind. He was treated by the clan of his birth, the Genesis Clan—one of the three great clans—as a king, a prodigy, someone born only once every thousand years.
The constant flattery and pampering had made T'Griffin excessively confident. At the age of 16, he was sent on a mission to kill the Antichrist. However, upon seeing the Antichrist—a girl, a child who truly didn't deserve death, as she hadn't chosen to be the Antichrist—T'Griffin chose to protect her. Yet, with his Eye of Death, he had a vision of that girl's death, indicating that the end was near.
No matter how many hunters he defeated or what he did, the vision of her death wouldn't fade; instead, it intensified. He then faced another mysterious hunter, an experienced one sent by the Hunter Association, who humiliatingly defeated him and killed the Antichrist before his eyes. T'Griffin survived only due to superior orders.
And so, the true story began…