The Storm Before the Battle
The sky churned with fury. Heavy clouds devoured the stars, lightning flashing like veins of fire across the heavens. Thunder roared in the distance, shaking the earth beneath their feet. Rain fell in merciless sheets, turning the battlefield into a sea of mud and shadows. The air crackled with something more than just the storm—it carried the weight of destiny.
The sages and knights stood motionless, their eyes fixed ahead. Water dripped from their armor and robes, but they did not waver. They had come prepared. For years, this moment had loomed over them like an unbroken curse. Tonight, it would end.
Across from them, three figures loomed in the darkness. They were barely visible under the flickering flashes of lightning, their faces obscured by shadows. But their presence was undeniable. The traitors.
They had once stood among them as brothers, as warriors of the same cause. Now, they were nothing but echoes of betrayal, their souls twisted by forbidden power.
The wind howled, carrying whispers of fate yet to be decided. Neither side moved. Neither side spoke. Only the storm bore witness to what was about to unfold.
Then, one of the traitors stepped forward. His presence was eerie, unnatural, as if the very air recoiled from his existence. His voice, when he spoke, cut through the storm like a whisper from the abyss.
"You cannot stop this." His tone was laced with unwavering confidence. "The Moon Book is with us. You know you can't go against nature, can you? This kind of power… it's like a cheat skill. But don't worry—you won't feel a thing."
One of the sages speak in calm and you are
Phantasos, Phobetor, and Morpheus. The traitors i see you managed to extend your life using a forbidden power.
The oldest sage remained unfazed, his expression calm and knowing. Years of wisdom reflected in his gaze. He turned to his warriors and spoke, his voice steady yet kind.
"You know what to do, sages and knights."
A single answer rang through the storm, their voices united as one.
"We do."
A brilliant light erupted from their hands, piercing through the darkness. It shot into the sky like a falling star, illuminating the battlefield with divine radiance. Then, from above, a book descended—bound in glowing golden chains, its presence sacred and untouchable.
The youngest sage stepped forward, his hands trembling as he reached for it. The moment his fingers brushed the cover, a pulse of energy surged through him. His eyes brimmed with tears—tears of duty, of fear, of understanding. Without hesitation, he turned and ran.
vanishing into the forest.
The wind howled around him as he pushed his legs beyond their limits, faster than ever before.
The three traitors Phantasos, Phobetor, and Morpheus.
Did not react in anger. Instead, they spoke in eerie unison.
"When we use the book, he will return it himself. Did you forget the Moon Book's power?"
But even as they spoke, the youngest sage had already disappeared a power transfer him to another different places. The oldest sage chuckled under his breath, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
"Nothing ever goes as planned."
Back to the Present
The dimly lit room was heavy with silence.
Phantasos, Phobetor, and Morpheus. sat in the shadows, their presence unnatural, their power ,they're dark Aura undeniable.
One of them exhaled slowly, his voice breaking the quiet.
"One hundred and fifty years… and still no trace of the Sun Book."
Another smirked, his fingers tapping against the wooden table.
"It's close. It still clings to him. But if he doesn't bring it soon as possible, it will return to us—when his life ends. Even with magic, even with stolen souls, no human can live beyond two hundred years. If he grows much older, he won't be able to control the books at all. He is always dreamed of bringing the city in it's glory but is power is fading.
The third figure scoffed, his voice dripping with malice.
"And who is this person? His aura is suffocating us."
A tense pause filled the air before the first figure spoke again, his tone sharp.
"If not for the Moon Book's power, we would have been caught long ago." He leaned back, a cold smile creeping across his face. "Let them have their fun."
A Shocking Awakening
Anazitis jolted awake, his breath coming in short gasps. Sweat drenched his skin, his heart pounding like war drums. The voices… they had been so clear. Was it a dream? A vision? No—it was real. Too real.
A deep unease settled in his chest. He had prepared himself for difficult truths, but not this.
Without hesitation, he threw off his blankets and stumbled to his feet. There was no time to think—he had to move. His steps were unsteady, his mind racing as he rushed out of his house. The cold air hit him like a wave, but he barely noticed.
The streets were alive, but the people around him blurred into nothing. Whispers followed him, eyes watching his every move, but his thoughts were drowning in fear, in questions, in the weight of what he had just learned. His legs carried him forward, though he wasn't sure where he was going.
Then, suddenly, his strength gave out.
The world tilted, his vision darkened, and he braced himself for the fall—until a firm yet gentle hand caught his arm.
An old man stood before him, his presence warm, almost radiant. His very being exuded kindness, like a flicker of sunlight breaking through the storm. His golden eyes held the weight of ages, yet his voice was soft, reassuring.
"I will help you, young man. Do not push yourself beyond your limits. You are not alone—I will take you to your friend."