'Valen, did you see what just happened?'
[The rune broke? What are you talking about?]
'I was transported to another space... I met someone there. He said he was from a world destroyed by demons and gave me some sort of inheritance.'
[From my perspective, you just sent mana into the rune, and it shattered. It seems like your soul was pulled into it briefly, maybe just a split second.]
'Maybe. I feel... strange. He didn't just pass on his knowledge and experience—he transferred his emotions too. It's like I now carry his life's memories, or at least the moments that mattered most. The devastation, the suffering the demons caused in his world... it's overwhelming. So much sadness.'
[The past is set in stone, kid, no matter how tragic. You need to focus on what lies ahead. The demons may have destroyed one world, but there are still countless lives we can protect. That's what matters now.]
'I know you're right, Valen, but I can't think straight right now. I need time... to process all of this… his knowledge, his emotions.'
Elion left the shattered rune behind, feeling the weight of the inheritance pressing down on him. As he walked through the now-familiar forest, the once-sharp glint of determination and excitement in his eyes faded.
His thoughts swirled with memories that weren't his own—flashes of a world overrun by demons, its people screaming, its cities crumbling into ash. His heart was heavy with the sadness and loss of an entire world he never knew.
Each step toward Elandor seemed slower, his feet dragging as if pulled by an invisible force.
Normally, he would have been on high alert, scanning the horizon for beasts or threats. But now, his mind was elsewhere, too consumed by the haunting images left behind by the deceased mage's soul.
After what felt like hours, the gates of Elandor finally came into view. The city was alive with activity, but Elion barely noticed.
He navigated through the crowded streets, ignoring the usual bustle of vendors calling out their wares, townspeople chatting, and adventurers boasting of their recent exploits. Everything felt distant, muffled.
He reached the inn where he'd paid for a room. Without even acknowledging the innkeeper, he climbed the stairs to his small, rented space.
The familiar creak of the wooden floorboards barely registered in his mind as he opened the door and shut it behind him.
Once inside, Elion didn't bother removing his gear. He simply collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The softness of the mattress offered no comfort. His thoughts churned, weighed down by the mage's tragic legacy.
The room, though warm and safe, felt cold and suffocating. The knowledge and emotions of a long-dead world swirled within him, too overwhelming to digest all at once.
For the first time in a long while, Elion felt lost. His body was in Elandor, but his mind was trapped in a void of sorrow, haunted by the suffering of another.
...
"Avandor, you are our pride. The void magic you've developed... it's revolutionary. With it, we might finally stand a chance against the demons. You're our beacon of hope." The voice echoed in Elion's mind, full of admiration and desperate belief.
...
"Urgh... it seems my time has come," another voice groaned, filled with the weight of a life at its end. "Thank you for standing by my side, my friend. I... I couldn't have fought this far without you."
...
"Come on, Avandor, we're not finished yet! We can still turn the tide of this war. We'll never bow to those bastards!" The words were filled with fire, but the world around them seemed to be falling apart, the hope fading even as it was spoken.
...
"It's over. We can't win this fight... no one can. Avandor, there's still time for you. Flee to another world, another life. Live on... for all of us."
...
Each memory flashed vividly in Elion's mind like fragments of a broken mirror, showing the final moments of Avandor's world. The pride, the loyalty, the defiance, and finally, the crushing despair.
These weren't just the memories of a mage who had once stood at the pinnacle of his world—these were the echoes of a life lost to a war that could never be won.
Elion could feel Avandor's pain, his sense of duty, and the immense burden of being the last hope for a doomed world. And now, that weight was passed to him.
Elion hadn't realized when the tears began to fall, nor when the sobs escaped his throat. At first, arriving in this world felt like a dream—a fantastical chance to be the hero, to save a world from peril like the stories he'd read and imagined.
But now, that dream had become something far heavier, something crushing.
He had glimpsed the reality behind the heroism: the weight of lives depending on him, the enormous responsibility to protect a world he had barely begun to understand. The enormity of it all hit him like a wave—drowning, suffocating.
How was he, a young man trapped in the body of a boy, supposed to bear this burden?
Could he really carry the fate of an entire world on his shoulders? The expectations, the lives, the horrors of a war that had destroyed so much already.
It all felt too overwhelming as if the ground beneath him was slipping away.
The naive excitement he once felt was gone, replaced by doubt and fear. The kind of fear not of death, but of failure. Of not being enough.
"Val," Elion whispered, his voice trembling, "when I came here, I thought this was my chance to live a life of adventure, to finally do something meaningful. But now, I see how naive I was. I'm just one person. How can I possibly fight against all the demons and protect the world? They've already fought so many wars and won so many battles. I'm just an inexperienced boy who hasn't even seen enough of the world."
Valen's voice echoed in his mind, steady and unwavering.
[You're not alone in this fight, Elion. You never were.]
Elion closed his eyes, trying to feel comfort in the words, but the weight on his chest remained.
[It's not just you standing against them. I'm with you, every step of the way. We'll face whatever comes, together.]
Valen's tone was firm, but there was something warm beneath it, something almost protective.
[And don't forget, the entire Vampire Realm will be by your side. You have allies—powerful ones. You're not fighting this war on your own. Our strength, our knowledge, our armies, they will stand with you.]
Elion clenched his fists, feeling a flicker of hope spark within him.
[It's true, the demons are powerful. They've destroyed worlds, and crushed entire civilizations. But we've fought them for centuries, and we'll fight them again. You're stronger than you realize, kid. And together, with everything we've got, we'll show them what real resistance looks like.]
Elion took a deep breath, the weight on his heart lifting ever so slightly. Valen's words were like a lifeline, reminding him that even though the burden was heavy, it wasn't his alone to carry.
"You're right, Val," Elion muttered, his voice steadier. "I'm not alone. We'll fight together, and we'll protect this world, no matter what it takes."
After a few hours of meditating and absorbing the memories from his encounter in the dungeon, Elion finally began to process the vast knowledge imparted to him. Among the most intriguing and complex of the teachings was Void Magic—an advanced form of space magic.
Void Magic was fundamentally different from conventional space magic. Where traditional space magic focused on manipulating distances, reducing the space between two points to enable teleportation or create portals, Void Magic worked on a far more profound level. It didn't just bend or fold space, it aimed to nullify it.
Conventional space magic operated within the boundaries of reality, manipulating the fabric of space to shorten distances or displace objects.
The key was the understanding of dimensional planes, creating shortcuts through the spatial continuum. But Void Magic ventured beyond that.
Void Magic was about erasing the concept of space itself. Rather than simply shrinking the distance between two places, it removed space altogether, momentarily creating a "void" where nothing, no matter, no time, no distance, existed.
For a split second, the caster and their target were suspended in pure nothingness, free from the constraints of the physical world. This made Void Magic terrifyingly efficient and unpredictable.
While space magic created portals or spatial tears, Void Magic created emptiness, a vacuum in the fabric of reality. Attacks or movements that employed this power didn't merely bypass defenses, they rendered them irrelevant.
With Void Magic, the very space an attack moved through ceased to exist, making it impossible for conventional barriers to block or react to it.
The risks, however, were immense. The void was unstable, and even the slightest miscalculation could tear apart not just space, but the caster's connection to reality itself.
It was a magic that demanded perfect control and unwavering focus, as one wrong move could lead to being lost in the void forever.
His mind reeled with the possibilities and dangers. This magic had the potential to devastate his enemies, but it also required him to master forces beyond what any ordinary mage could hope to control.
As he sat, contemplating the depth of the knowledge he had gained, he knew that learning Void Magic would be a path fraught with peril, but it was a path that might hold the key to defeating the demons.
Elion suspected that the reason he was chosen for this inheritance was tied to the moment he had unknowingly tapped into Void Magic before.
When he had killed the beast in the forest, channeling space energy into a devastating punch, he hadn't fully understood what had happened. The sheer power had obliterated the creature—and nearly destroyed his arm in the process.
Now, with his newfound knowledge, it was clear: he had inadvertently accessed the void, harnessing its destructive potential.
The mage's will had recognized that spark within him, that innate connection to the void, however brief and uncontrolled it had been. It wasn't just luck or talent that had drawn the inheritance to him.
It was that moment when Elion had unwittingly crossed into the realm of Void Magic. His body had suffered for it, unprepared for such raw power, but the mage must have seen something more.
Perhaps it was his potential to master that dangerous force, or his reckless determination to push past his limits, that had marked him as worthy of the inheritance.
Reflecting on that memory, Elion realized that the inheritance hadn't been a gift given out of chance. It was recognition. The ancient mage had seen in Elion the seeds of Void Magic, a connection forged through desperation and survival.
The pain he had endured, the near destruction of his arm, those were the costs of touching the void without understanding it. Now, with the knowledge and experience he had been granted, Elion understood that it wasn't just about having the power; it was about controlling it.
The inheritance wasn't just a blessing. It was a responsibility, a challenge to harness the void without letting it consume him.