(A long, long time ago)
The cave stretched on endlessly, its walls adorned with clusters of light blue crystals that shimmered like frozen stars. I ran my fingers along one of the clusters, marveling at the faint hum of energy radiating from it. "Mana crystals," I murmured, my voice echoing faintly in the cavern. "And so many of them…" My mind raced with possibilities. The sheer wealth of this discovery could set us up for life.
I continued deeper, my boots crunching softly against the loose gravel while my brother followed in tow. The glow of the crystals bathed the cave in an otherworldly light, but something caught my eye—a faint red glow coming from the wall up ahead. I stopped in my tracks, narrowing my gaze.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I approached the source. Embedded in the rock was a small, pulsating red light, faint but distinct against the blue glow. I tapped it lightly with the hilt of my sword. The impact sent a soft vibration through the rock, and before I could react, the section of the wall crumbled outward, rubble tumbling to the ground at my feet.
My breath caught as I took in what lay behind the broken wall. It was a crystal, like the others, but its glow was blood-red, deep, and mesmerizing. Strange runes crawled along its surface, pulsating faintly. I couldn't look away. My hand moved on its own, reaching for it, drawn by some invisible force.
A strong hand gripped my shoulder and yanked me back, breaking the spell. My head snapped around to see my brother, his face grim, sweat glistening on his brow.
"What are you doing?" he asked sharply, his tone low but firm.
I stumbled a step back, shaking off the haze that had clouded my mind. "I… I don't know. It was like it was calling to me."
My brother stood between me and the crystal now, his own gaze fixed on it. The golden glow radiating from his palm—our makeshift light—dimmed as he raised his hand toward the red crystal. He frowned, lowering his hand slightly.
"It's absorbing my Holy Power," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can feel it."
We exchanged a look, and despite the tension, we couldn't help but grin. Whatever this thing was, it was unlike anything we'd ever seen.
Always the cautious one, my brother snapped his fingers. The golden light shifted, turning into a light blue glow that rippled like water in the air. Slowly, he pushed the glowing light toward the crystal, inch by inch. The same thing happened—the closer the light came, the dimmer it got. When he pulled it back, the glow returned to its full brightness.
I crossed my arms, watching closely. "It absorbs mana as well," I muttered.
Curiosity burned in me now. I unsheathed my sword, letting the blade hum softly as I infused it with aura. A vibrant orange glow enveloped the steel. "Let's check if it does the same with aura," I said, stepping forward.
As I moved the sword closer, the aura began to flicker and fade, just like the Holy Power and mana. I pulled back, and the glow returned. This thing wasn't picky—it consumed any kind of energy thrown at it.
"Damn," my brother said under his breath, his voice tinged with awe. "This is a big discovery."
"Yeah," I agreed. "But it's dangerous too."
Neither of us wanted to leave the crystal behind, but we also weren't about to take any unnecessary risks. My brother shrugged off his heavy backpack and pulled out two pickaxes. "Careful," he said, tossing one to me.
We set to work, chipping away at the stone around the crystal. The red glow pulsed steadily as we worked. Whatever this thing was, it was worth the effort—and the risk—to uncover.
Hours passed as we worked, our pickaxes methodically carving away at the stone encasing the red crystal. Every swing echoed in the cavern, the rhythm broken only by the occasional scrape of loose rubble hitting the floor.
Sweat dripped down my face, and my arms ached, but finally, we stepped back to examine our work. The crystal stood exposed now, its blood-red surface glowing faintly, runes crawling like veins across its smooth edges.
I wiped my hands on my pants, gripping the pickaxe tightly. My brother stood a few feet away, his breathing heavy, his face glistening with sweat. He didn't say anything, but his eyes darted between me and the crystal, uneasy.
As the last thing to measure, I threw a rat we had killed that had scurried by while we were mining. It hit the crystal without a sound before plopping to the floor, nothing noticeable occurring so I nodded back towards my brother.
"Here goes nothing," I muttered, raising the pickaxe high. My pulse quickened, but I kept my grip firm, steadying my breathing as I focused on the task at hand.
For a moment, silence filled the cavern. The faint hum of mana crystals in the walls was the only sound, a soft, resonating hum. Somewhere, a distant drop of water echoed in the stillness. My brother shifted nervously, the scrape of his boots against the stone ground in the quiet stillness surrounding us.
I swung.
CLANG
My pickaxe struck the crystal, the impact reverberating up my arms. Nothing happened. My grip tightened as I readied another strike. This time, a shard chipped off, flying through the air in a slow, surreal arc. My brother and I watched it as though time itself had slowed.
Then it happened.
A jagged bolt of red lightning burst from the shard, striking me square in the chest. Pain erupted through my body, sharp and searing, like fire coursing through my veins. I stumbled, gasping, but before I could even process what was happening, another bolt struck me.
This time, it wasn't just pain.
My mind filled with images—symbols I couldn't decipher, voices speaking in a language I didn't know. Knowledge, or perhaps the promise of it, swirled in my thoughts, intoxicating and overwhelming. I felt a pull, like something deep within the crystal was clawing into my mind, leaving me desperate for more.
The shard hit the ground with a faint tink, and I heard my brother's voice, faint and distant, as though it came from the far end of a long tunnel. "Hey, you alright?"
I couldn't respond. My body twitched uncontrollably, and suddenly, a dark, viscous substance poured from my mouth, my nose, even my eyes. It wasn't liquid—it moved like smoke, curling and twisting around me, encasing me in an inky shroud. My breaths came in ragged gasps, my vision blurred, and through it all, I saw my brother step back, his face pale and stricken.
Then everything shifted. My vision folded in on itself, and I felt like I was being pulled backward, fast and violently, into an endless void. I tried to scream, but no sound came.
The void was black—utterly and completely empty. I couldn't see, hear, or feel anything. Except for one thing.
Hunger.
It gripped me with an intensity I'd never felt before, twisting my insides into knots. But it wasn't food I craved. No, this hunger was different, deeper. I needed something far more than physical sustenance.
Knowledge.
The word pulsed in my mind, growing louder, and more demanding until it consumed every thought. I floated in the darkness, consumed by the endless, gnawing need for understanding, for power, for answers to questions I couldn't yet form.
…
(Present day)
The following day, after that ambush at night, the caravan had established a temporary camp within a clearing flanked by two towering cliff faces. The natural barriers shielded them from prying eyes, providing an ideal base of operations while they awaited Tridra's return. They were roughly two miles from a bandit base, the proximity enough to act but distant enough to avoid detection.
After nearly an hour of absence, Tridra reappeared at the edge of camp. She swiftly weaved through the camp toward Ophelia's cart and upon reaching the door, she knocked once before entering.
Inside, Ophelia sat on her couch, utterly still, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above. The room was quiet, the tension palpable, until Tridra cleared her throat ever so slightly. Ophelia's eyes flicked to her, the piercing silver gaze cutting through the silence.
Tridra nodded in acknowledgment before stepping toward the newly pinned large map on the wall opposite Ophelia's couch. "The information was correct," she began, her voice calm as she tapped a precise point on the map with her gloved finger. "The base is here, at the top of this hill. The mountain above obscures it almost entirely. It could be a natural cave they've expanded into or something they carved out themselves."
Ophelia leaned forward slightly, her interest piqued as Tridra continued. "There's a wall around the base," Tridra said, tracing the perimeter of the hilltop on the map. "I spotted at least three watchtowers—one at the north, another to the east, and the last to the west. Inside the walls, the buildings are clustered tightly, with clear paths connecting them. No sign of a barracks or anything formal like that, though. The whole place feels… improvised... so I explored a bit more and realized this place was built upon what looked to be ruins."
"Ruins, huh?" Ophelia scratched her chin.
"Yes, My Lady. In addition, I counted roughly fifty bandits, give or take. The important part, however, is the Bandit Leader's quarters. From what I observed, this isn't like the others we've dealt with. Those leaders were lackeys—teams in charge of scattered ambushes at best. This one commands authority, and his presence is obvious."
Ophelia's expression sharpened as she absorbed the report. "You're saying this is likely one of their main bases," she summarized.
Tridra nodded. "Exactly. And their leader… he's strong. Very strong."
Ophelia tilted her head, her gaze narrowing. "Stronger than Edwin?"
At the name, Tridra felt a bead of sweat trace down the side of her face. Her voice faltered slightly as she replied, "It felt like it. If we face him, we'll need to gang up on him. He's not someone who can be taken down alone." She hesitated again, her face paling as she glanced back at the map. "However… there's something else."
Ophelia's ears perked up at the shift in her tone. "What else?" she asked.
Tridra's lips thinned as she continued, her voice quieter now. "They have a magical beast. Inside the ruins. It's, unlike anything I've ever seen before. I don't even know what classification it could receive."
Ophelia straightened, her sharp gaze locking onto Tridra. "Describe it for me.
Tridra leaned forward, her voice low but steady as she spoke. "The creature was massive, My Lady. Its body seemed to spill out of the shadows, its limbs gnarled and clawed like the roots of some ancient, cursed tree. It had a hunched frame, its surface rippling like a mass of tangled bark and decay. Its eyes glowed faintly, a pale, sickly white, and it sat there, amidst piles of scattered books and torn pages, as if it belonged to that desecrated library."
Ophelia's eyes widened as Tridra finished. Her hand shot up to cover her mouth, "Library?" she murmured, pausing, and then continuing, "That is… bad."
Tridra furrowed her brow, confused. "May I ask why, My Lady?" she asked, her voice cautious yet curious.
Ophelia lowered her hand slowly, her tone somber as she replied. "A Gorgous Maximus," she said.
"A what?" Tridra asked, tilting her head slightly.
"A Gorgous Maximus," Ophelia repeated. "It is a type of magical beast that has evolved into a semi-demonic creature." She exhaled.
…
(In the bandit base)
The chamber was deathly quiet. The bandit leader stood tall and proud, his dark cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. His armor was pieced together from scavenged scraps, a patchwork of steel and leather that gleamed faintly in the dim, unnatural light filtering through the ruined library's towering windows. A jagged sword hung at his side, its hilt worn from years of use. His face was sharp and angular, weathered by countless battles, with a single scar slicing down from his brow to his cheek, hiding the smallest of scars, one extremely dark and deep. His eyes, however, were steady, their icy gaze fixed on the hulking beast before him.
The creature loomed over the man, a colossal amalgamation of shadow and jagged bark-like textures. Its massive claws rested lightly on the mounds of ancient tomes, their sharp tips digging into the brittle pages. Its glowing eyes bore down on the bandit leader, unblinking, filled with an ominous light that seemed to pierce through the man's bravado.
"You play a dangerous game, mortal," the beast rumbled, its voice a guttural growl that reverberated through the chamber. Dust fell from the high, crumbling ceiling as the sound echoed. "You defile this sanctuary and awaken forces you cannot control."
The bandit leader smirked, his lips curling into a defiant sneer. "Sanctuary? This place is a ruin, a graveyard for knowledge no one remembers or cares for. I have claimed it only because you requested so…" He gestured broadly to the piles of books and toppled shelves. "And I've claimed you as well, haven't I?"
The beast's claws tightened, scraping against the stone floor, the sound like nails on glass. "Claim me?" it hissed, its eyes narrowing. "You misunderstand, fool. You have not bound me. I remain because I choose to—because you are useful for now."
The bandit leader's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered. "Useful? To what end, beast? You need me to keep the intruders at bay, to supply you with the scraps of knowledge this place still holds. You may be powerful, but even you can't protect this library alone… this place that almost seems like your very beating heart."
The beast leaned closer, its immense presence bearing down on the man. The air grew heavier, the bandit leader's cloak rippling as if caught in an unseen wind. "You mistake my tolerance for dependence," the beast said, its voice quieter but infinitely more menacing. "I have allowed you to remain because your petty ambitions shield this place from prying eyes. But the storm approaches, and you are ill-equipped to stand against it."
"What storm?" the bandit leader demanded, his tone sharp. His hand rested instinctively on the hilt of his sword, though he made no move to draw it. "Speak plainly, creature. If you have seen something, I need to know."
The beast tilted its head, a cruel mimicry of curiosity. "You are blind, little mortal. Already, they come—those who seek to destroy you and all you've built here. People of a different caliber to the merchants you extort. You will not survive their wrath."
The bandit leader's confidence cracked, his jaw tightening. "Then fight with me," he said, his voice firm. "You said it yourself—I am useful. Together, we can crush anyone who dares to challenge us."
The beast chuckled darkly, a sound that sent shivers down the man's spine. "Fight with you? I am not your ally, mortal. I will defend what is mine, as I have done for centuries. You, however… you are expendable."
The bandit leader clenched his fists, his pride warring with the cold realization that the beast had no loyalty to him. "Then tell me," he growled, his voice laced with desperation. "Tell me what I must do to survive."
The beast's glowing eyes flared brighter, and it leaned closer still until its face was mere feet from the man. "Survive?" it echoed, a cruel smile seeming to form in the shifting mass of its face. "You cannot. But you can choose how you will fall. Will you cower like the rest of your kind? Or will you burn brightly in the storm, a fleeting spark defying the inevitable?"
The bandit leader stared up at the beast, his defiance crumbling under the weight of its words. For the first time in years, fear crept into his heart.
Yet, the beast had a few more words to say. "However, if you do somehow win," The beast grinned. "I shall assist you in any way possible concerning any future matters."