As soon as Bulan stepped into the glowing circle, the atmosphere around him seemed to shift, like the moment before a storm breaks.
The hum of energy deepened, resonating in his chest, and the ground beneath him vibrated faintly. The runes on the obelisk flared with light, their flowing patterns spinning faster, almost as if they were alive.
Mist's expression remained calm, though his eyes were sharp, he knew that if the vessel accidentally used the power of the Bakunawa, the narda stone would surely react and they would be cut in pieces. "Brace yourself," he said, his hand steady against the obelisk's surface.
Bulan shot him a wary look. "For what?"
Mist didn't answer. Instead, the circle beneath them erupted with light. A sudden force surged upward, wrapping around them like an invisible current. Bulan's stomach lurched as he felt himself being lifted, weightless, into the air. The world dissolved into a blur of radiant colors that swirled and twisted, as if he'd been tossed into the heart of a kaleidoscope.
A wave of nausea hit him, and for a brief moment, he was certain he was going to lose the fight against his churning stomach. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation stopped.
Bulan's feet slammed onto solid ground, the impact jolting him. The blinding light receded, leaving him disoriented but unharmed. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and his breath caught in his throat.
They stood in the middle of a vast plaza, its stone tiles cracked with age but still radiating an aura of majesty.
Towering marble columns surrounded the space, their surfaces wrapped in glowing green vines that pulsed faintly, as if alive. The air was cool and damp, carrying the earthy scent of moss mixed with something metallic and faintly sweet.
In the distance, the remains of a grand castle loomed, its jagged spires piercing through a layer of thin, drifting mist. Massive, ancient trees framed the horizon, their trunks impossibly wide and their golden leaves shimmering as though lit from within.
"Whoa…" Bulan breathed, his voice barely audible. He turned in a slow circle, his head craned upward to take it all in. "This place is insane."
Mist stepped forward, his posture relaxed but his eyes scanning the surroundings with quiet vigilance.
"Welcome," he said, his tone even and measured, "to the Kingdom of Luntian."
Bulan's mind replayed the potion seller's words as if they had been spoken moments ago:
The Kingdom of Luntian… they're famous for their unique materials—rare ores and enchanted gems that can be forged into permanent weapons. Weapons strong enough to last a lifetime, imbued with properties that grow alongside their wielder.
He could still hear the old man's voice, steady yet firm.
You need a permanent weapon that can be upgraded as you grow stronger. Guilds won't accept members without adequate equipment and skills.
Bulan's fists tightened. Every word echoed with purpose, fueling his determination. This was the moment he had prepared for.
He glanced at Mist, who stood with quiet confidence, his gaze fixed on the distant castle ruins. The way he carried himself—calm, commanding, and always a step ahead—made Bulan feel both in awe and slightly inadequate. The thought struck him like a thunderbolt: This guy... he's too powerful. Too experienced.
He hesitated, then decided to voice his suspicion. "Hey," Bulan began, his voice tinged with curiosity, "are you... by any chance, a Guild Captain?"
Mist's shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, but he didn't turn around immediately. For a moment, Bulan thought he'd overstepped. But then Mist glanced over his shoulder, his piercing eyes locking onto Bulan.
"Yes," Mist said simply.
Bulan's jaw dropped. "Wait, what? Seriously? You're a Guild Captain?"
Mist turned fully now, his expression unreadable. "Was that not obvious?"
Bulan stumbled over his words, his excitement bubbling over. "I mean, I thought you might be strong or something, but a Guild Captain? That's a whole other level! What's your guild called? Is it one of the big ones? How many members do you have? Can I join—"
Mist held up a hand, silencing him. "Calm yourself. This isn't the time for a fanfare of questions."
Bulan flushed but couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face. "Still, that's amazing! You must be insanely strong. I mean, I knew you were no ordinary guy, but a Guild Captain? That's incredible!"
Mist sighed, though a faint smirk played on his lips. "Strength alone doesn't make a Guild Captain. A guild is built on trust, teamwork, and leadership. Titles mean little without those."
Bulan nodded fervently, though his thoughts were already racing. If Mist was a Guild Captain, then maybe he could help him get closer to his dream of joining a guild. He hesitated for a moment, glancing down at his fists, "What kind of weapon do you think would fit me... Captain?"
Mist froze mid-step, then let out a low, amused chuckle. It grew into a full-bodied laugh, his voice echoing across the ancient plaza. Bulan frowned, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"What's so funny?" he demanded, his tone defensive.
Mist wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, his grin mischievous. "I heard about a kid once. He told a potion seller bold as brass that he didn't need a weapon because his fists were his weapon."
Bulan's eyes widened as the memory hit him like a lightning bolt. "Your fists?" the old man had echoed, his laugh shaking the shop. "Against Devourer Slimes?!"
His face turned bright red. "Wait—how do you know about that?"
Mist smirked knowingly, crossing his arms. "The potion seller? He's an old friend. He told me the story of a crazy kid who walked into his shop claiming to fight Devourer Slimes bare-handed. Said the kid was so confident he nearly choked on his tea."
Bulan groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You've got to be kidding me."
Mist's laughter softened, though his eyes still sparkled with amusement. "Relax, kid." His voice dropped, carrying a weight that silenced the humor in the air. "But here's the thing, Bulan. He wasn't laughing at you. He was preparing you."
Bulan frowned, lowering his hands. "Preparing me? For what?"
Mist's smirk vanished, replaced by an expression of quiet intensity. "For this. For the truth of who you are."
Bulan blinked, confused. "What do you mean? I don't have a weapon. That's why I'm here—to find one."
Mist stepped closer, his piercing gaze locking onto Bulan's. "You're wrong. You already have one."
"What?" Bulan's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"
Mist gestured to Bulan's clenched fist wrapped with Void Serpent. "This. Your fists. Your body. They are your weapon."
Bulan opened his mouth to argue, but Mist held up a hand to stop him.
"Think about it," Mist continued. "You've always relied on your strength, your instinct, your determination. You've faced challenges that most wouldn't dare to take on at level 0, and you've done it without a blade or bow. The potion seller saw it in you. That's why he sent you here."
Bulan's breath caught in his throat. "You're saying… he knew? That I wouldn't need a weapon?"
Mist nodded slowly. "Exactly. Luntian isn't just a place to find weapons—it's a place where warriors are forged. It's where those with unique potential come to unlock their true power. The potion seller sent you here because this is your training ground. Your proving ground."
The weight of Mist's words pressed down on Bulan's chest. Memories of the potion seller flooded his mind: the way the old man had smiled knowingly, the way his words had seemed to carry hidden meanings.
"A permanent weapon… one that grows with you…"
It wasn't just advice—it was a prophecy.
Bulan looked down at his left hand, flexing his fingers. Could it really be true? Could his fists be the weapon he'd been searching for all along?
"But…" Bulan's voice wavered. "How can fists be enough? Against monsters? Against… player like you?" He looked up at Mist, his insecurities spilling out. "You've got magic. Swords. Entire guilds backing you up. What do I have? Just these?" He raised his fists, frustration evident in his voice.
Mist's expression softened, but his tone remained firm. "You have more than you realize. And Luntian will prove it to you."
Before Bulan could respond, the ground beneath them began to tremble. The glowing green vines wrapped around the columns pulsed brighter, and a deep, resonant hum filled the air. Mist's eyes narrowed as he turned toward the source of the disturbance.
"It's starting," he said grimly.
"What's starting?" Bulan asked, his voice tinged with panic.
Mist didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pointed toward the ruins of the castle. The mist that had been drifting lazily moments ago now swirled violently, forming a vortex that seemed to pull the very light from the air.
"This is your first trial," Mist said, his voice steady but urgent. "The guardians of Luntian are awakening. They'll test you—not just your strength, but your resolve. If you truly believe in your fists as your weapon, you'll prove it here."
Bulan swallowed hard, his heart pounding. "And if I fail?"
Mist's gaze was unyielding. "Then this place will devour you."
A chill ran down Bulan's spine, but he clenched his fists tighter, the weight of his choice pressing down on him. The potion seller's words echoed in his mind once more.
"Weapons strong enough to last a lifetime… imbued with properties that grow alongside their wielder."
This wasn't just a journey for a weapon—it was a journey to understand himself.
"Alright," Bulan said, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him. "Let's see what this place has got."