Within the dense, shadowy depths of the Great Forest of Althea, the air trembled with the roar of explosions, loud enough to send flocks of birds scattering into the sky. Beasts howled in pain, their anguished cries reverberating through the thick canopy of trees. It was the sound of battle—raw, brutal, and unrelenting.
A lone figure stood at the center of the chaos.
He whispered, "My flames of fury shall turn my enemies to ashes, [Fire Storm]."
Boom!
A deafening explosion ripped through the forest, and with it came the unmistakable scent of scorched earth and burning flesh. The ground was littered with the charred remains of magical beasts—creatures whose forms had been so ravaged by the inferno that they were now unrecognizable. Once fierce Rank 1 Land Boars, feared by adventurers for their relentless charges and thick hides, now reduced to heaps of smoldering ash.
Any wandering adventurer, particularly those new to the dangerous trade, would have been left slack-jawed at the sight of such devastation. These were beasts that entire parties of seasoned warriors struggled to defeat—yet here, they were obliterated by a single young man.
The figure in question stood silently, dressed in black from head to toe. His clothes, worn and tattered in places, clung to his lean frame, and a mask concealed the lower half of his face. The only part of him visible were his piercing eyes, burning with the intensity of his recent battle. Despite wielding powerful magic, which should have marked him clearly as a mage, his attire and the way he moved with silent precision gave him the air of an assassin.
Clei, the young mage, glanced down at the scorched bodies before him, his eyes narrowing beneath his hood. He let out a long sigh.
"Still too weak," he muttered, frustration biting at his words. "I've been training for so long... and yet..."
Four years. Four years of relentless training, and yet he felt no closer to his goal. His magic had grown stronger, but the progress was painfully slow. He was chasing a shadow—a figure so powerful it seemed unreachable. The thought gnawed at him.
He clenched his fists, the memory of that person—the one who disappeared—looming large in his mind. The person he treated as his father, the one who had changed his life forever, had vanished five years ago, leaving nothing behind but unanswered questions and a deep ache in Clei's heart.
With a single, graceful leap, he vaulted onto the branch of a towering tree, settling down on a sturdy bough. The fatigue from casting [Fire Storm] weighed on him, draining his mental energy. He needed rest. The beasts of the forest were relentless, and more than once, he'd encountered thieves lurking along the outskirts, preying on lone travelers. Closing his eyes, Clei tried to calm his mind, though the turmoil within him made it difficult.
In the quiet moments that followed, his thoughts drifted to the upcoming milestone—his eighteenth birthday. For most, such an age would bring a sense of excitement, a celebration of coming of age. But for Clei, it was a bitter reminder.
Four years. Four long years of solitude, of wandering the forest, of searching for answers to a mystery that only deepened with time. His father's disappearance, sudden and without explanation, had left a void in his heart—a wound that festered with each passing day.
"Father, where are you now?" he whispered into the stillness, though no answer came, only the rustling of leaves in the wind.
His memories drifted further, pulling him back to his earliest days. He had not always been alone. Born an orphan, raised by priests in a shelter, he had once known what it felt like to belong in a warm place. The priests had cared for him, and the other children had played and laughed with him—it had been a simple, innocent life.
But fate, as it often does, had been cruel.
When he turned five, everything changed. Without warning, the kindness he'd known turned to cold disdain. The people who had once shown him love now looked at him with hatred, their eyes filled with contempt and fear. They called him names—demon, monster, and outcast. And with those labels, they cast him out. Alone, confused, and heartbroken, Clei had wandered the streets, begging for food, shelter—anything to survive. But no one would help him. It was as if the city of Althea had decided, collectively, that his very existence was a curse.
For an entire month, a five-year-old boy roamed the outskirts of Althea, half-starved and barely clinging to life. The memory of that time was like a knife twisting in his chest. It was a miracle he had survived at all. But just when he thought he could endure no longer, when the light in his eyes had begun to fade, something miraculous happened. Someone had found him.
The details of that day were hazy now, clouded by the passage of time, but one thing remained clear: the figure that had saved him, the man who would become his father, had been a beacon of hope in his darkest moment.
"Father…" he muttered again, his hands balling into fists.
After a few hours of rest, Clei got up. Though his mental force had not fully recovered, he was steady enough to move. He couldn't linger in one place for too long—this forest held too many dangers for anyone, no matter their strength.
Leaping down from the tree, Clei surveyed his surroundings. The Great Forest of Althea was vast, and within it lurked not only magical beasts but darker forces. Without hesitation, he began to run, heading north toward a place few dared to venture.
An hour passed before Clei reached a part of the forest that was eerily quiet. The trees here grew unnaturally close together, their thick branches intertwining to block out all light, plunging the area into near darkness. Overgrown vines and twisted plants covered the ground, making it difficult to navigate.
Clei stopped abruptly. His breath was steady, his eyes focused. This was the place.
With practiced precision, he made a series of intricate hand gestures and chanted softly, "A treasured child, a treasured life, oh where might I find you?"
As the last word left his lips, the surrounding vegetation responded. The tangled mass of plants parted, revealing a narrow, hidden path that led deeper into the forest. Without hesitation, Clei stepped forward, entering the secret trail.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the world around him seemed to shift. The oppressive darkness of the forest gave way to a serene clearing bathed in soft sunlight. Birds chirped overhead, their song filling the air, and the scent of flowers was carried on a gentle breeze. Before him, two lush gardens flanked a marble pathway that led to a quaint house atop a small hill.
The sight of the tranquil haven brought a fleeting smile to Clei's lips, though it was tinged with bitterness. This place, so peaceful and beautiful, felt worlds apart from the turmoil that raged inside him.
He walked the familiar path, his footsteps slow and deliberate, until he reached the door of the house. Standing before it, he hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm home."
But the house remained silent, as it always did.