Thalorion was a behemoth of commerce, a thriving hub that drew merchants and traders from far and wide.
Nestled at the crossroads of the Synax kingdom, it was a magnet for potion alchemists and venomancers , its markets overflowing with exotic goods and precious resources.
But Thalorion's significance extended far beyond its wealth and influence. It was a nexus of martial power, home to multiple schools of thought that had shaped the very fabric of the martial world.
The city's destruction, wrought by a cataclysmic battle, sent shockwaves throughout the Eastern Plains, capturing the attention of sorcerers and warriors alike.
The repercussions of Thalorion's downfall would be far-reaching, sparking a chain reaction of intrigue and deception. Enemies of the fallen nation would not rest on their laurels, but would instead tremble with anticipation, sensing the power vacuum that had been created. For in the martial world, there was no supreme being – only an endless struggle for dominance, where the strongest survived and the weakest perished.
In the farthest corner of the ravaged battlefield, amidst the rubble of destroyed ruins, a young man sat shrouded in an aura of quiet contemplation. His black hair framed his pale face, and his dark eyes seemed to hold an unfathomable depth, like two abyssal voids that drew in the light around him. Few could discern the profound wisdom hidden within those eyes, for they seemed to belong to a realm beyond this world, a realm where mortal boundaries did not apply.
"I should hurry and escape from this battlefield. Three days have passed since the war, and soon necrologists, knowledge keepers, and those... damn... lunatics from the secret order will descend upon this place."
"I have no idea how they'll respond, but one thing's certain - those fanatics from the secret order will be ecstatic to stumble upon a living experiment that managed to survive this carnage."
"Should I even bother going back to the original owner's homeland? I have no idea."
"Ugh, what a headache."
"Fragmented memories, all that remained of the original owner's past, hinted at a complex web of organizations. The Nacrologists, masters of the dark arts, were said to be a division of the Arcane Experts, delving into the mysteries of life and death. Meanwhile, the Memory Archivists, guardians of ancient knowledge, served as the Knowledge Keepers, safeguarding the secrets of the past. And then, there was the Black Lodge, an enigmatic faction shrouded in secrecy, rumored to be the elite division of the Secret Order."
"The most insidious threat, however, emanated from the Secret Order, a cabal of fanatics who wielded dark magic and demonic powers to further their twisted agenda. They believed that the heavens had intentionally crafted a hierarchy of power, with the strong destined to reign supreme and the weak condemned to suffer. In their warped ideology, the notion of protecting the vulnerable was an affront to the natural order. Instead, they advocated for the ruthless eradication of the weak, viewing them as obstacles to progress, mere speed bumps on the road to domination.
Their mantra, repeated in hushed tones within the shadowy recesses of their heretical temples, was a chilling testament to their conviction: 'Let the weak perish, that the strong may thrive.' "
After wandering for a while, Noah finally came to a conclusion. He rummaged through his sack of holding, its contents a testament to his resourceful nature. The bulk of the space was occupied by the meat of the scavenger he had hunted earlier, but amidst the provisions, a few peculiar items caught his eye.
A dagger with an intricately carved hilt lay nestled beside two charms that glimmered with a soft, ethereal light. Most intriguing, however, was an ancient tome bound in worn leather, its yellowed pages filled with forbidden knowledge: dark rituals, arcane techniques, and spells that whispered secrets of the unknown.
After conducting a swift inventory of his sack of holding, ensuring that his supplies and equipment were still intact, Noah set off towards the location where the monstrous bear had first emerged, his senses heightened as he navigated the familiar terrain.
As Noah arrived at the destination, he stood before the massive cave, its entrance a yawning mouth in the side of the mountain.
Scanning the ground, he noticed a peculiar sight: the tracks of men and bear intertwined, a tangled dance of footsteps that seemed to whisper secrets of a recent encounter. At first, Noah found it curious - how had the monstrous bear survived the devastation of war? But as his gaze lingered on the human footprints, a shiver ran down his spine. Something didn't add up. The situation was more complex, more sinister, than he had initially thought but something is wrong.
After meticulously scanning the perimeter, Noah confirmed that the cave was trap-free.
He then retrieved a handful of mud from ten paces away and began to apply it to his skin, masking the scent of his body. The bears' sense of smell was legendary, 2,100 times more acute than that of humans. Given the three-day-old stench of battle still clinging to him, Noah knew he had to be meticulous.
With his scent neutralized, Noah settled into a patient wait, ready for his prey to wander into range. He wasn't intimidated by the bear's brute strength; after all, the body he now inhabited belonged to a level 2 peak sorcerer.
His cautious demeanor wasn't driven by fear of the scavengers or the bear, but rather by his wariness of the Memory Archivists, Shadow Scryers, and Seers - specialists who could unravel hidden truths from even the most innocuous objects or visions.
"If they discover that an apprentice-level sorcerer like myself survived the battlefield carnage that claimed the lives of elder sorcerers from their own branches, it will spark a maelstrom of trouble. The fact that I reside in Thalorion City will only add fuel to the fire. They won't even bother to convene a council to discuss my fate; instead, they'll swoop in to capture me, determined to extract the secrets behind my unlikely survival - or uncover any hidden treasures I might have stumbled upon in the war's aftermath."
As the afternoon wore on, a commotion erupted near the cave entrance. A hulking figure emerged, its muscular physique rippling beneath scarred, weathered skin.
The man's fiery red hair stood out starkly against the dull surroundings, and a latticework of scars etched his body, telling the tale of countless battles.
One particularly gruesome gash above his left eyebrow seemed to twist his face into a perpetual snarl, making him appear even more formidable. With a piercing gaze, he began to survey his surroundings.
As he scanned his surroundings, his gaze sweeping across the barren expanse, he concluded that he was alone, the only companion the scorching heat that radiated from the brazen field. With a purposeful stride, he set off towards one side of the battlefield.
Though spring had barely begun, the air was heavy with an unnatural, sweltering heat. The aftermath of the catastrophic clash between hundreds of experts had left the area scorched and distorted, their explosive techniques imbuing the environment with a residual energy that would incinerate any ordinary person who dared to enter.
"I was right, after all. It's unimaginable that a monster like you could survive this war, where even grandmasters in their respective fields fell without even knowing who struck them down."
Noah melted into the shadows, concealing himself within a narrow crevice as he witnessed the scene unfold. His initial purpose forgotten, he opted for a new plan.
With calculated caution, Noah began to trail the monstrous figure, maintaining a discreet distance that avoided detection. He moved with deliberate stealth, careful not to alert the creature to his presence
The battlefield lay strewn with the gruesome aftermath of carnage, the crimson earth soaked with the blood of the fallen. The bodies of powerful warriors littered the ground, some mutilated beyond recognition, while others remained eerily intact, a testament to the formidable strength they had wielded in their final moments.
As dusk descended, a muscular, red-haired man emerged before a mountainous pile of splintered lumber and rubble, oblivious to the shadow trailing silently in his wake.
The remnants of the building's materials told a story of their own: intricately carved stone, polished marble, and precious metals. It was clear that this area had once been part of the Thalorion royal family's estate, a testament to their wealth and power.