The village of Mann was nothing more than a small speck on the map. Nestled against the rolling waves of the sea, it had been isolated from the rest of the world for over a thousand years. Legend told that long ago, a group of exiles had arrived on the island, cast away by those who once ruled them. This group was divided into two factions—the Westerners and the Easterners.
The Westerners, seeking peace and a life free from conflict, settled in the fertile, safe lands of the island. They turned to farming, fishing, and living simple, fulfilling lives. Their land was small, a haven surrounded by the sea, offering them everything they needed for a modest existence. Over the years, the Westerners came to see themselves as guardians of peace, content with their secluded life.
The Easterners, however, did not share the same vision. They believed that exile was not the end but merely a temporary setback. They chose to remain on the island's expansive eastern side, where the land was rich with soul energy—a vital force that could be harnessed to enhance one's strength. The eastern region was vast and untamed, separated from the Westerners by the treacherous and feared Forest of Death. This forest, with its dense trees and powerful beasts, made travel between the two regions impossible. Over time, the Easterners dedicated themselves to martial training, holding out hope that one day they would return to the mainland, to reclaim what had been taken from them.
The separation between the two factions had grown to be so absolute that the name of the Easterners was eventually forgotten by the Westerners, and vice versa. The once-shared history between them became little more than a legend—a tale of two paths diverging in the wilderness.
The Festival of Paths had always been a joyous occasion, a time for the people of the village to celebrate their coming of age. But now, it was as if the world itself had conspired to tear apart their happiness. The dark ships loomed on the horizon like specters of death, and what little hope remained among the villagers was about to be crushed in a display of power unlike anything they had ever seen.
The first ship came to a halt just beyond the shallows of the bay, its towering hull casting a long shadow over the dock. For a brief, agonizing moment, there was silence, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Then, a brilliant light erupted from the deck of the ship, a beam so bright it seemed to pierce the heavens. It condensed into a single point above the vessel, and then, with a deafening roar, it shot downward in a devastating arc.
The ground trembled violently as the light struck the dock, vaporizing it in an instant. The blast wave that followed obliterated the surrounding shoreline, sending shards of wood and stone flying through the air like shrapnel. Houses near the bay collapsed under the force, and villagers were thrown to the ground. Aris, standing in the square, felt the heat from the strike even from a distance.
"What… what just happened?" Joran stammered, his face pale.
The village square, once alive with the sounds of celebration, was now filled with screams. The crowd began to scatter in a frenzy, panic spreading like wildfire. The reality of their helplessness hit them all at once—this was not an enemy they could fight.
Aris turned to his father, who was already rushing toward him. "Aris! Take Lila and Joran and run! Now!" his father shouted, his voice trembling with urgency.
"But Father—" Aris began, but his father grabbed him by the shoulders, his grip firm.
"There's no time to argue! Go! Protect them!" His father's eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and determination. Aris had never seen him like this before. It made his heart sink.
Lila, his quick-witted cousin, was already tugging at his arm. "Come on, Aris! We have to go!" she urged, her voice breaking.
Joran, still frozen in place, muttered, "This can't be happening…"
Another blast erupted, this time closer to the village center. The shockwave threw the three of them off their feet. Aris hit the ground hard, the air knocked from his lungs. Dazed, he scrambled to his knees, searching for his father in the chaos. He spotted him near the square, wielding a fishing spear as he faced the invaders who were now pouring out of the ships—hooded figures clad in black armor, their movements swift and merciless.
Aris's father turned back to him one last time. "Run, Aris!" he shouted. But before Aris could respond, the figure leading the invaders—a man wielding a massive, gleaming sword—moved with inhuman speed. In a single motion, the man's blade descended in an arc of light.
Aris watched in horror as his father was cut in two, his body crumpling to the ground. The world seemed to freeze. His father, the man who had raised him, taught him everything, was gone in an instant. Aris's breath came in shallow gasps, his vision blurring as tears welled up.
"Aris!" Lila screamed, pulling him to his feet. "We have to go!"
Fueled by adrenaline and sheer terror, Aris grabbed Joran, who was still in shock, and the three of them bolted toward the forest. Explosions continued to rock the village behind them, each one accompanied by screams and the crackling of flames. The docks were gone, and much of the village was in ruins. Smoke filled the air, thick and choking.
As they ran, another explosion struck nearby, the force of it knocking them off their feet. Aris hit the ground hard, his head spinning. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was alone.
"Lila! Joran!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. There was no answer. The only sounds were the distant cries of the villagers and the roar of the flames. Panic set in as he stumbled to his feet, searching for any sign of his cousin or his friend. They were gone, swallowed by the chaos.
Aris's path brought him to the edge of Lake Cyrus, the water glinting eerily under the light of the fires. The lake was a place of nightmares, spoken of in hushed tones by the villagers. No one who had ever entered its waters had returned. Some said it was cursed; others claimed it was home to ancient, malevolent spirits.
He hesitated, his mind racing. Behind him, the sounds of the invaders grew louder. He could hear their voices now, sharp and commanding. They were closing in.
Aris's chest tightened. He had no choice. It was either face the invaders and certain death or take his chances with the lake. Summoning every ounce of courage he had left, he took a deep breath and dove into the water.
The cold was immediate and all-consuming. The lake's icy grip wrapped around him, dragging him down into its depths. Aris thrashed, his lungs burning as he struggled to stay afloat, but the current was too strong. It pulled him deeper and deeper, the surface growing further away.
Panic set in. He clawed at the water, his limbs growing heavy. His vision blurred as the edges of his consciousness began to fade. Just as he thought he would drown, a strange warmth spread through his chest. The necklace. It was glowing again, brighter than before.
A blinding light engulfed him, and the world disappeared.
When Aris opened his eyes, he was no longer in the lake. He found himself in a vast, white expanse, the light so intense it was almost blinding. He looked down at his hands, realizing he was standing, though there seemed to be no ground beneath him.
"Where… am I?" he muttered, his voice echoing in the emptiness.
"Am I dead?.."
He thought
A deep, resonant voice answered, "You are where you were meant to be."
Aris spun around, his heart pounding. Before him stood a figure unlike anything he had ever seen. It was massive, at least 3.5 meters tall, its body glowing with an ethereal white light. Its face was featureless, yet somehow it exuded an air of smug confidence.
"W-Who are you?" Aris stammered.
The figure tilted its head, as if amused. "I am… let's just say, a part of your destiny."
Aris's mind raced. "What do you mean? What is happening to me? Why am I here? What is this power?"
The figure chuckled, a sound that echoed endlessly. "So many questions, and so little patience. You'll find your answers in time, young one. For now, know this: the power you possess will grow with every challenge you face. Every opponent you defeat will make you stronger. But strength comes at a cost."
Aris clenched his fists. "What cost? Why me? What am I supposed to do?"
The figure leaned closer, its faceless head inches from Aris. "That, too, you will discover. I'll be watching, young one. Make it… entertaining."
With that, the figure smiled—a chilling, knowing smile—and the light around Aris flared once more.
When Aris awoke, he was lying on the damp ground. The air was thick and heavy, filled with the earthy scent of moss and decay. He sat up slowly, his body aching.
His surroundings were unfamiliar—towering trees loomed overhead, their twisted branches blocking out the sky. The Forest of Death. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.
"No… no, no, no," he muttered, his voice trembling. The forest was a place of nightmares, filled with beasts powerful enough to kill anyone who dared enter. He had heard the stories, seen the fear in the eyes of those who spoke of it. And now he was here, alone.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of his father, of Lila and Joran. He had lost everything—his family, his home, his friends. For a moment, despair threatened to overwhelm him.
But then, a spark of anger flared within him. He thought of the invaders, of their ruthless slaughter, of the smug figure who had cut down his father. His fists tightened.
"I'll make them pay," he whispered. "I'll survive this forest. I'll grow stronger. And one day… I'll destroy them all."
With that, Aris stood, his resolve hardening. The path ahead was uncertain, but he knew one thing for sure—he would not let his story end here.