Lucio Velarde stood on the cliff's edge, gazing down at the village below. His heart, like the sword strapped to his back, was heavy with the burden of loss and vengeance. Tonight, the moon hung low in the sky, its crimson hue casting an eerie glow over the land, as if the heavens themselves were weeping for the fallen.

The village of San Isidro, nestled in the valley, was peaceful now, unaware of the bloodshed that had ravaged it not so long ago. Fires had once danced in the streets, not from celebration but from destruction. The Velarde family, once the protectors of this village, were gone. Slaughtered. Only Lucio remained.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the hilt of his father's sword—a relic passed down through generations, now his only connection to a legacy bathed in honor and blood. His father had fought bravely, but even the mightiest warrior could not stand against the treachery that had befallen them. Lucio's gaze shifted to the stars, seeking solace where none could be found.

The night air was cool, the wind carrying whispers of the past, reminding him of a time when his family was whole. He could hear his younger sister's laughter in the distance, the warm sound of his father's voice guiding him in the ways of the blade. But those memories, once a source of strength, now only served to fuel the rage burning inside him.

Lucio closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the ancestral sword pulling him toward a destiny he had not chosen. His mind raced back to that fateful night—the night his world had been torn apart. He had been away, training in the mountains under the tutelage of Master Armas, learning the ways of the sword. His father had insisted that he leave, sensing the storm brewing on the horizon, but Lucio had resisted.

"Father, I should be here. To protect you, to protect our home," Lucio had argued, but his father, ever the wise warrior, had only smiled.

"You protect us by becoming stronger, my son," his father had said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "There will come a time when this sword will be yours to wield, and you must be ready."

Lucio hadn't understood then, but now, standing alone on this cliff, the weight of his father's words pressed down on him like the gravity of the earth itself. He had returned to find the village in ruins, the bodies of his family strewn across the courtyard like broken dolls. His father, the once-proud protector of San Isidro, lay with his sword broken beside him, a testament to the battle he had fought until the very end.

But who could have done this? Who could have defeated a man as strong as his father?

The answer had come swiftly. The ones responsible had left a message, a name burned into the wooden pillars of their home: Mga Mandirigma ng Apoy—the Warriors of Fire. A powerful sect, known for their fiery temperaments and destructive techniques. They had come in the night, taking what they wanted, leaving only ashes in their wake.

Lucio had knelt beside his father's body, tears mixing with the blood-soaked earth. In that moment, he had sworn an oath, one that would drive him forward even when his body wanted to give in. He would find the Warriors of Fire. And he would make them pay.

Now, as the crimson moon bathed the land in its haunting glow, Lucio knew that the time had come to begin his journey. He had trained long enough. He had grieved long enough. The path of vengeance was the only one left to him now.

He turned his back on the village, his blackened armor catching the moonlight as he walked toward the dense forest that lay beyond the cliff. His steps were silent, his movements fluid, a testament to the years of training he had undergone. He had become the shadow his enemies would fear, a blade hidden in the darkness, waiting to strike.

The forest was thick, the trees towering overhead, their branches creating a canopy that blocked out the light of the moon. Lucio moved through the underbrush with ease, his senses heightened, every rustle of leaves and crack of twigs alerting him to potential danger. But he was not afraid. Fear had left him long ago.

As he walked deeper into the forest, the path became narrower, the trees closing in around him. The air was thick with the scent of earth and moss, and the only sounds were the soft crunch of his boots on the ground and the distant call of an owl. But Lucio knew that he was not alone.

He paused, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the shadows, searching for the source of the disturbance. And then, he saw it—a flicker of movement to his left, a figure cloaked in darkness, watching him from the trees.

Lucio did not move, his body tensed, ready for whatever might come. He had learned long ago that in a fight, the first strike was often the most important. But this figure, whoever they were, did not seem eager to engage.

"Who are you?" Lucio called out, his voice low and steady.

The figure stepped forward, revealing themselves to be a man, tall and lean, with sharp features and eyes that gleamed like the stars overhead. He wore the traditional robes of a warrior, though Lucio did not recognize the design.

"I am someone who knows your pain," the man said, his voice smooth, almost soothing. "And I am here to offer you a choice."

Lucio's grip on his sword tightened. "I don't need your pity, and I don't need your choices."

The man chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Lucio's spine. "Ah, but you will listen to what I have to say. You seek vengeance, do you not? Against the Warriors of Fire?"

Lucio's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

"I know many things," the man replied, taking another step forward. "And I can help you. But only if you're willing to pay the price."

Lucio said nothing, his mind racing. Who was this man? And how did he know so much about him? Was this some kind of trap?

"I can see that you are hesitant," the man continued, his smile never wavering. "But know this, Lucio Velarde—the path you are on will only lead to more suffering. If you wish to succeed, you will need allies. You will need power beyond what you currently possess."

Lucio's eyes flickered to the sword at his side. His father's sword, a relic of the past, filled with the power of his ancestors. But was it enough? Could he truly defeat the Warriors of Fire on his own?

The man seemed to read his thoughts, his smile widening. "I can show you the way. I can give you the power you seek. But as I said, there is always a price."

Lucio hesitated for a moment, his mind torn between his desire for vengeance and his mistrust of this stranger. But in the end, there was only one path left for him to take.

"Tell me what I need to do," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.

The man's smile widened, and he stepped closer, his hand outstretched.

"Come with me, Lucio Velarde. And together, we will forge a new destiny."

Until the...