The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.
Alcor, the human realm—one of many in a world vast and filled with wonders. It is said that all the magic used by every being in existence, whether mortal or divine, did not originate from them. It was bestowed upon them, perhaps by ancient gods or primal forces beyond comprehension. This is the one belief that every scholar, no matter their allegiance or knowledge, agrees upon. Magic flows through the world like a river, ever-present and powerful, but its true origin remains shrouded in mystery.
Humans, like the many creatures that inhabit Alcor and beyond, have always wielded magic. From the simplest to the most complex ultimate skills, magic has been a part of life for as long as anyone can remember. Yet, despite this long history, it remains an enigma. The fact that people can use magic does not prove that they are its creators. The search for a higher power—the source of all magic—drives scholars, priests, and mages alike, for it is in our nature to seek something greater, something divine to praise, to follow, and to worship.
Well, this story is just beginning. The mysteries of this world run deep, and as we set forth, the hidden truths of magic, gods, and the system will slowly unravel before us. Let us uncover these mysteries together, step by step, as the pages of this story turn and the world of Alcor unfolds.
An adventurer moved quietly through the trees, his sharp gaze caught the flicker of movement ahead. His tousled brown hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him a rugged, seasoned appearance. Though not heavily muscled, his lean frame moved with the efficiency of someone who knew the wilderness well. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he walked confidently, knowing the dangers of the forest posed little threat to a level 2 combatant. But he always stayed alert. Nightcrawlers—a vicious breed of nocturnal predators—were known for ambushing the inattentive.
His target was perched high in the branches of a distant tree: a Dawnplume, a multicolored bird with feathers shimmering in hues of gold, blue, and violet. Known for its rarity, the bird was prized by the nobility, and a single one could fetch ten gold coins at the capital. Keeping his excitement in check, Erendil stalked forward silently.
Suddenly, he felt it—a subtle shift in the air. His heightened senses picked up an almost imperceptible barrier as he passed through it. He froze, his instincts screaming something was wrong. Looking up, his eyes widened in disbelief. The sky, once a soft blue, was now an eerie shade of green. The trees around him had turned pitch black, their once-lush leaves now a blood-red hue.
Erendil spun around, trying to retrace his steps, but the landscape had changed completely. The familiar forest was gone, replaced by this twisted, unnatural version. His heart raced as he realized something powerful had trapped him within this strange new realm.
Erendil took a few more cautious steps backward, but suddenly froze in place.
[Warning: Multiple hostile life forms approaching.]
The system's voice echoed in his mind, sharp and direct. He drew his sword with renewed focus, shifting to high alert. His ears picked up the sound—a loud, ominous flapping, like giant wings cutting through the air. In the distance, a swarm of bat-like creatures, as black as the twisted trees around him, hurtled toward him with alarming speed.
Before he could brace himself, they were upon him. They were smaller than him, only about half his size, but moved with blinding speed. Erendil swung his sword, cleaving through the first one with ease—his strength as a level 2 combatant far surpassing theirs. Crimson energy burst forth from the slain creature as it disintegrated into the air.
With a quick pivot, he sliced two more, his blade exploding with power, sending ripples of energy through the air. "Two more," he muttered under his breath. They hovered above, wings flapping furiously, just out of reach. He bent his knees and launched himself from the ground with a powerful leap, sword raised high. Before the creatures could react, his blade sliced clean through them, splitting them in half. He landed a few meters from where he had started, the creatures' remains vanishing into the air.
Just as he was about to relax, lowering his sword, every muscle in his body tensed. A shiver ran down his spine, and the hairs on his neck stood on end. He didn't need the system to tell him this time—he could feel it.
Something, or someone, was watching him. And its gaze was filled with pure malice.
Erendil spun around, his sword raised, only to be confronted by a sight that made his heart drop. A massive cave loomed behind him—something that hadn't been there moments before. What? he thought, his mind racing. That wasn't there before.
His eyes quickly locked onto the source of the murderous gaze. From within the cave's gaping maw, a pair of glowing purple eyes stared down at him. Whatever the creature was, it had to be massive—easily five meters tall, though its full form was concealed in the thick shadows of the cave. The malevolent energy radiating from it made Erendil's skin crawl. His instincts screamed at him that this was something far beyond his ability to fight.
The creature stepped closer, revealing only the glowing orbs of its eyes and the dim outline of its hulking figure. Its mouth began to open, and within it, a purple ball of energy slowly began to form, pulsing with power.
[Host life in danger, activating Ultimate Skill—]
The system's voice echoed in his mind, but it was abruptly cut off as the creature released the blast of energy. Erendil barely had time to register what was happening. In that final moment, as the brilliant flash of purple light consumed everything around him, he understood. This was the end.
Daemon emerged from the dense trees, his footsteps soft on the moss-covered ground. He looked around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and saw a boy tending to some animals not too far ahead. The boy looked to be around twelve, with a dirty but friendly face. He looked up, noticing Daemon.
"Hey, where'd you come from?" the boy asked, wiping his hands on his tunic.
Daemon blinked, trying to form a coherent thought. "I... I don't know," he replied, his voice quiet but steady. "I just... came out of the forest."
The boy's eyes widened. "The forest? You sure about that? A lot of guys go in there and disappear. Probably got eaten by nightcrawlers!"
Daemon frowned slightly, the term unfamiliar. "Nightcrawlers? What are those?"
The boy raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "You don't know what nightcrawlers are? Where are you from, mister?"
Daemon paused, thinking. He searched his memory, but it was as if everything was covered in fog. "I don't know...I think my name is Daemon."
"Think?" The boy tilted his head, concern flashing across his face. "Did you hit your head or something, mister?"
Daemon shook his head slowly, though he wasn't entirely sure. "I don't think so."
The boy scratched his chin, studying Daemon closely. "Well, I'm Brynn. You look like you could use some help. I can take you to the village. My mom's a healer—she can take a look at you."
"I would appreciate it."
"No problem! Just follow me. My mom's good with people who get lost," Brynn said, grinning as he turned and motioned for Daemon to follow.
"So, how'd you end up in the forest, anyway?" Brynn asked over his shoulder. "Most people stay clear of it, 'specially at night."
"I'm not sure," Daemon admitted, his gaze drifting toward the unfamiliar landscape. The fog over his memory was thick, but he felt as though something—or someone—had brought him here. "It feels like... I'm searching for something, but I don't know what."
Brynn hummed thoughtfully, kicking a stray stone. "Well, maybe Mom can help. She knows a lot about strange things. Being half-spirit and all, I've heard some weird stories."
"Half-spirit?" Daemon glanced at Brynn, intrigued.
"Yeah," Brynn said casually. "My dad was a spirit. Don't remember him, though. He left when I was a baby. Mom says that's just the way of spirits. They don't like sticking around too long." He shrugged, but Daemon could sense a hint of sadness behind the boy's easy grin.
"Your mother must be strong, then, raising you on her own," Daemon remarked.
Brynn nodded. "She is. But don't worry. She's nice. She'll fix you up, no problem."