The passage of time had long obscured the exact year, but over the desolate plains of the Atasha Kingdom, the sky tore open with a thunderous roar, revealing a falling object that plummeted toward the earth at an unimaginable speed.
The air around it crackled, vibrating with an energy so fierce it sent shockwaves through the atmosphere, distorting everything in its path.
A violent rupture split the heavens as the object crashed into the earth, sending shockwaves rippling across the empty plains. The impact was cataclysmic, the force radiating outwards like a tidal wave of energy that shook the land for miles.
Dust and debris exploded into the air, creating a dense fog that choked the landscape, obscuring vision for miles around. The ground quaked beneath the force of the impact, leaving a massive crater in its wake.
Through the settling dust, a strange object could be seen embedded in the heart of the crater. It was not a meteor, nor a weapon, but a book.
The book was bound in the remnants of creatures long forgotten by history—its cover a blend of dragon scales and phoenix feathers, smooth to the touch yet ancient in its texture. It hummed with a quiet, steady pulse, radiating an aura that bent the air around it.
The faint glow it emitted wasn't ostentatious but carried a weight that seemed to defy the natural order.
The book lay silent In the crater for centuries, its aura seeping into the land around it.
Over time, whispers of its power spread through ancient texts and folklore, becoming the stuff of legend. Scholars and mystics debated its significance, but none could fully comprehend its impact.
However, something profound had happened—an unseen force began to influence the barren plains, stirring a miraculous change.
The land that had once been a desolate wasteland slowly transformed. Where the dust had settled, vibrant greenery began to sprout, and the once barren plains gave way to lush forests and fertile soil.
The Atasha Kingdom, which had struggled in poverty and strife, was reborn from the ashes of its past. The barren land's rejuvenation was so swift and miraculous that it was said to be the work of divine intervention, a legacy of the book's unknown power.
Millennia passed in the blink of an eye.
Gone were the desolate plains of the Atasha Kingdom. In their place now stood a thriving kingdom, bursting with life and greenery. The land that had once known only poverty and suffering was now lush with vibrant forests and bustling cities.
Atasha, once the weakest and most poverty-stricken kingdom, had grown to become one of the five strongest kingdoms on the continent.
The cause of this miraculous change remains a mystery. Some say that, long ago, a god descended from the heavens, moved by the relentless suffering of his people. Unable to bear their pain any longer, he unleashed his divine powers. With a single, sweeping gesture, he turned the barren lands into a dense, thriving forest. His aura enveloped the entire kingdom, infusing it with a spiritual energy that felt almost tangible.
The kingdom's prosperity and strength grew from this divine intervention, though no proof of the myth's truth exists.
* * *
The bustling atmosphere of the Moonlight Inn buzzed with lively chatter as the early morning sun cast a soft light through the windows. The rich aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread mingled in the air, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.
"Oi, did you hear about the grand tournament at Fortress Academy this year?" a man asked, leaning forward over a wooden table. His accent had a distinct regional twang, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.
His companion, a newcomer to the kingdom, looked puzzled and took a hesitant sip of his drink. "Uh, no. I'm afraid I haven't heard anything about it. What's the fuss about?"
THUD!
The first man slammed his mug down onto the table, causing a few patrons to glance over. His irritation was clear, but he quickly masked it with a more patient expression.
"What? You're telling me you don't know about the grand tournament? Wait a tick—you're new around here, aren't you?"
The second man nodded, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, I just arrived. I've been trying to catch up on everything, but I'm a bit lost. What's this tournament all about?"
The first man sighed, leaning back in his chair with a friendly grin. "Well, let me fill you in. Fortress Academy is one of the top three academies in the kingdom, you see. The other two are Silverpeak Academy up in the mountains and Valorhold Academy, which is right in the heart of Atasha. But Fortress Academy? It's right on the edge of the Shadowveil Forest, the most dangerous place in the land."
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "Shadowveil Forest isn't just feared because of the wild beasts that roam there. No, it's what's sealed deep within that makes it so terrifying. If whatever's locked away ever escapes… well, it'd spell disaster for everyone. Only a select few know what's actually hidden there."
The second man's eyes widened with curiosity. "So, why would they build an academy so close to such a dangerous place?"
The first man chuckled, the warm glow of the lanterns highlighting his animated expression.
"That's exactly the point! Fortress Academy was set up to guard against whatever's lurking in the forest. They're on the front lines, keeping the dangers at bay. And with the grand tournament coming up, everyone's on edge, wondering which student will prove themselves the best."
They continued eating and drinking, the lively atmosphere of the inn a stark contrast to the foreboding presence of the Shadowveil Forest looming beyond the kingdom's borders.
Meanwhile, at Fortress Academy…
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the conversation at Moonlight Inn gradually drifted to other topics, the warmth of the inn a stark contrast to the challenges facing the students at Fortress Academy.
The grand tournament loomed large in the minds of many, its importance symbolized by the academy's position at the edge of the ominous Shadowveil Forest.
Early morning light bathed the academy in a golden hue, the dew on the grass shimmering like tiny jewels. The academy's grand arena was alive with the energy of a sparring match, the sound of clashing swords ringing through the air.
CRASH!
In the arena, a young man was flung through the air, his body crashing into the stone wall with a bone-rattling thud. His form crumpled to the ground, dust rising in a small cloud around him as he lay there, gasping for breath.
His chest heaved, his breathing ragged and uneven, each inhale a struggle against the pain coursing through his body.
Blood dripped from his mouth, staining the dirt beneath him as he struggled to stand. His legs trembled, barely able to support his weight, and just as he managed to push himself halfway up-
STAB!
Agony exploded through his shoulder as a blade pierced his flesh. He screamed, the sound of his pain echoing through the arena as the sword drove deep into his shoulder, the steel cutting through muscle and bone with brutal precision.
The one holding the blade was none other than Darius Lionhart, a 14-year-old boy with dark grey eyes that gleamed with malice. His black hair swayed slightly in the morning breeze, and his slightly muscular frame stood tall as he loomed over his fallen opponent.
Darius's elemental trait was evident as his sword was enveloped in a sharp, metallic energy, a manifestation of his family's earth and metal attributes.
Around the arena, a group of disciples watched the sparring match with a mix of interest and unease. Their faces reflected a range of emotions—from silent admiration of Darius's prowess to pity for Aryan's suffering. Some exchanged whispers, their voices barely audible over the distant sounds of the academy.
Darius twisted the blade, a sneer forming on his lips. "How weak!" His voice dripped with contempt as he pulled the sword free. Blood dripped from the blade, staining the ground below.
Darius laughed, his voice echoing through the arena. "Aryan, you useless piece of shit!"
His words cut as deeply as the sword.
"How dare you stay in the academy with that little strength of yours? You've been stuck at the Initial stage of the mortal tier for the last three years! It's a disgrace!"
He spat on the ground near Aryan, his face twisted in disgust. "I can't understand why the elders allowed you to take part in the academy's grand tournament."
Aryan's sharp amber eyes flickered with a hint of fire and lightning, but his body was too broken to respond. The morning sun cast long shadows over the arena, and the air seemed to thicken with tension.
Around them, the disciples exchanged uneasy glances, some whispering among themselves, but none dared to intervene. The tension in the air grew thick as Darius stepped forward, his expression darkening with rage.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Darius roared.
SHING!
The sound of his sword cutting through the air sent chills down the spines of the watching disciples.
Metal and earth energy, sharp and suffocating, enveloped the blade, creating an almost visible pressure that made the air crackle around them. The ground beneath Darius trembled as his elemental power surged.
Aryan's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the approaching sword. His body was frozen, muscles too worn from the battle, pain throbbing in every fiber. His mind raced, but his heart had given up.
'Is this the end of my pathetic life?' His thoughts echoed in the void of his mind, resignation settling in. His vision blurred as he watched the blade draw closer to his neck.
The flickering fire and lightning in his eyes began to dim, the spark of life almost extinguished.