After a fight between the old man and Hans, the once-scarred surroundings, marked only by a massive sword mark, were now marred by additional sword marks of varying sizes evidence of an battle. The area had become even more devastated. The old man sheathed his sword and began to walk away from hans dead body.
"What a waste of potential..." he muttered.
He walked toward a young man who had been there for a week. Noticing the man's tattered clothes and the signs of starvation etched on his face, the old man paused and sat three meters away, his gaze fixed on the massive sword mark.
He finally understood the young man's torment. "It seems you bear a deep hatred toward the Deity of the Sword," he said.
The young man remained silent, not uttering a single word. His tired eyes, hollow and lifeless, resembled those of a dead man. The old man glanced at him and sighed before speaking.
"I'll take that as a yes." he smile.
The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle containing a mysterious liquid. He handed it to the young man.
"This should help you," the old man said firmly. "It's once in a lifetime, so don't waste a single drop. I need to go now..."
The young man quickly turned to the old man, his voice filled with confusion and urgency.
"Hey, elder, why did you give me something like this?" he asked, clutching the bottle tightly.
"Oh, i though you are mute. About that.. well I also wonder, why did i give it to you," the old man replied with a faint smile.
The young man stood up, gripping the bottle firmly. "My name is Nox. May I know your name, elder?"
The old man smiled again, his gaze steady as he looked at Nox. "My name is Damatius."
The wind started to grow stronger and heavier as the moon began to rise. Nox, his voice filled with uncertainty and despair, looked at Damatius and asked, "What should I do right now, Elder Damatius? I don't know anymore... I'm alone. It's like I don't want to live anymore."
"There is better, but foolish, and there is better, but worse. What do you want to choose?" Damatius asked Nox, his voice steady.
Nox scratched his cheek, the question seeming simple at first, but he knew both options could go terribly wrong. "Do they both mean the same?" he asked, uncertainty in his eyes.
"Then you should not ask me about that," Damatius replied with a knowing smile.
"Your destiny is shaped by your actions. But who knows? The right answer might already be in your hands." He winked.
"What do you mean by that?" Nox asked hint of confuse,
"Find it out..." He winked
Damatius began to walk away, his figure gradually fading into the distance, leaving Nox alone with his thoughts.
Thirty Minute passed by...
Nox stared at the bottle in his hand, still puzzled by Damatius' parting words. "Maybe in my hands?... The only thing in my hand now is this small bottle," he murmured, both confusion and curiosity.
He slowly removed the plug from the bottle, and instantly, a strange, overpowering smell wafted out. It was so vile that even a rat in the sewers would have fled in disgust. Nox quickly pinched his nose, his face twisting in revulsion.
"What the hell is this smell?!" he exclaimed, gagging. "It's the most disgusting thing I've ever smelled in my life!"
"Is this even drinkable? Or did that old man give me poison to end my suffering?" Nox muttered, glaring at the bottle. "Damn it! Whatever the case. Besides, I can't stand this smell anymore!"
He quickly drank it, the potent smell intensifying with each gulp. He recalled Damatius's stern words: "Don't waste a single drop." Though the stench was nauseating, he gritted his teeth, steeling his resolve, and forced himself to finish it all.
After drinking the entire contents of the bottle, Nox fought the urge to vomit. The disgusting taste lingered on his tongue, making him gag. Soon, his stomach began to growl, and a sharp pain began to spread within it.
"Well, I knew it... It's poison." he muttered through gritted teeth, his body tensing as the pain intensified.
Suddenly, a strange sensation surged through Nox's head, as if something inside was about to explode. His body began to shake uncontrollably, and parts of it started to swell unnaturally.
Suddenly, black smoke began to seep from Nox's body, swirling around him like a dark aura. The pain became unbearable, forcing him to collapse to his knees.
"Haghh... I can't move my body..." he groaned, his voice strained with agony.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind. "Nox... Please, stand up, my child... Avenge me..."
The familiar tone struck him like a lightning bolt, pulling his senses back from the edge. His eyes widened as recognition hit him.
"Mother?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
But almost immediately, doubt clouded his thoughts. Something felt off. His mother had never been the type to seek vengeance, no matter what had happened to her.
"You are not my mother..." he hissed, his trembling hands clenching into fists. "You're just using her voice... How dare you?!"
The voice of his mother repeated over and over, relentless and haunting. It echoed in his mind, calling his name and demanding vengeance.
Nox clutched his head, unable to endure it any longer. "Aghhh!!! Stop!!!... Stop!!!" he screamed, his voice filled with desperation.
His weakened body gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. The black smoke pouring from him thickened, swirling chaotically around him.
Moments after he hit the ground, the smoke began to shift, taking on a distinct shape. Slowly, it turn into a humanoid figure.
"I see... Finally, that old man has fulfilled my last wish," the humanoid figure said, its voice calm as it gazed at Nox's unconscious body.
"I'm sorry you had to endure that pain... But it was the only way, for me to find someone who has felt hatred as deeply as I have," it continued, its tone softening.
The figure reached out, placing a hand gently on Nox's head, its shadowy fingers brushing through his hair in a motion almost comforting. "This feeling... it reminds me of those days..." it murmured.
Suddenly, the figure's form began to fade, its edges dissolving into wisps of black smoke. "I don't have much time left..." it whispered.
The entity summoned a book and a small box, both radiating an ominous energy. It knelt beside Nox's unconscious body, its shadowy form seeming to waver with urgency.
Gently, it placed its hand over Nox's closed eyes. "Accept this," it said softly. "I'm glad you're unconscious because... this would hurt too much if you were awake."
Next, it moved its hand to Nox's head and then to his chest, over his heart. "For the second and the first most important thing..." it murmured, its voice tinged with both sadness and resolve. "I don't have much time left, but I need to complete them both."
A massive dark aura erupted from the entity, spreading outward and engulfing the area. The atmosphere grew dense and suffocating, and the ground beneath began to tremble violently.
"I'm sorry I can't give you everything," the entity said, its voice echoing. "This is all I have left in this form."
The overwhelming aura began to dissipate, fading into the night as the ground ceased its trembling. The shadowy figure, now faint and translucent, started to vanish as well.
"Well... I've given you everything I could," it murmured. "This should be enough to make you stronger."
The figure paused, its fading voice filled with a bittersweet tone. "I hope that someday, we'll meet again..."
The shadow entity had vanished completely, leaving behind only silence and the faint hum of residual energy in the air. Nox remained unconscious on the ground, his body motionless.
Slowly, the swelling across his body began to subside, the injuries healing at an unnatural pace. The black smoke that once surrounded him dissipated entirely, leaving the air.
Suddenly, a striking transformation began. Nox's black hair started to shift in color, the dark strands fading into a shimmering silver-white, almost glowing under the faint moonlight.
Hours passed, and Nox remained unconscious, his body still as if in a deep slumber. There was no sign of movement, but far off in the distance, two figures were steadily approaching the area where he lay.
As they came closer, their appearances became clear. One was a young girl, vibrant and curious, and the other an old man, his posture dignified and steady. Their attire was anything but ordinary—elegant and intricately designed, the kind of clothing that commoners could only dream of.
The young girl suddenly stopped, her sharp eyes spotting something ahead. She pointed excitedly toward Nox. "Grandpa! Look, look! A person!" she exclaimed.
The old man's eyes narrowed as they approached the figure. He could feel an overwhelming presence radiating faintly from Nox's unconscious body, something unnatural and powerful. Concerned, he quickly stepped in front of the young girl, blocking her path.
"Hana, stop here," he said firmly. "I'll go alone."
Hana frowned but nodded, her curiosity tempered by her grandfather's serious demeanor.
The old man cautiously approached Nox, his eyes scanning the figure lying on the ground. His gaze lingered on the tattered clothing, but what struck him most was the silver-white hair shimmering in the fading light.
"A slave?" he murmured, noting the worn and simple attire. Kneeling beside Nox, he reached out to check for a pulse.
"He's still alive," the old man said softly.
The old man carefully lifted Nox's limp body, cradling him with surprising ease for someone of his age. Hana, watching intently, couldn't contain her curiosity.
"Where are we going, Grandpa?" she asked, tilting her head inquisitively.
The old man smiled gently, his tone warm and reassuring. "My little Hana, we're returning home now—this young man will be coming with us."
Her eyes widened with excitement as she pressed further. "A young man? Does that mean I'm older than him?" she asked, her voice brimming with playful anticipation.
The old man chuckled at her eagerness. "No, Hana," he said, shaking his head lightly. "He's probably older than you by at least fifteen years."
"Oh, so he's older than me?!" Hana exclaimed with a hint of excitement.
The old man nodded, a gentle smile on his face.
"Yay! Older brother!" Hana cheered, clapping her hands as she walked alongside her grandfather. Together, they began their journey away from the devastated area, leaving behind the remnants of destruction and mystery.
Somewhere in the continent...
A mysterious figure sat on a grand throne, far larger and more ornate than the other empty thrones that surrounded it. The chamber was dimly lit by floating purple flames that danced eerily, casting shadows on the dark walls.
"The night is thick and heavy," the figure mused, his voice deep and deliberate. "It reminds me of the birth of our Lord, our savior, and our god."
He gazed at the pitch-black sky visible through a high arched window, lost in thought, when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the chamber. A man, panting and drenched in sweat, rushed toward the throne and knelt.
"My king! We have urgent news!" the man cried, struggling to catch his breath.
The king's eyes narrowed, his calm demeanor replaced by sharp attention. "Speak," he commanded.
"The Sword of the Black God... it has destroyed its chamber!" the man reported frantically.
The king rose abruptly, his expression filled with shock and disbelief. "What do you mean by that?!" he demanded.
"It's true, my lord," the messenger replied, his voice trembling. "Not only has it destroyed its chamber, but its power... it's starting to return."
The king froze for a moment, as if recalling a long-buried memory. Then his expression hardened. He turned sharply and called out, "Ere!"
From the shadows, a mysterious woman appeared, her movements graceful and deliberate. She knelt before the throne. "Yes, my king?"
"Go to the Empire immediately and deliver this message to the Ten Commanders of the Legion. Inform them...
"Our god has returned!."
Ere bowed deeply. "As you command, my king." She disappeared into the shadows as swiftly as she had come.
The king turned back toward the night sky, his voice a reverent whisper. "Our Lord... has returned."