The skies of Elderrogue were never kind. They shifted constantly, dark clouds swirling like a brewing storm, casting the land in a perpetual state of twilight. Nilhas had become accustomed to it. The weight of the world pressed down on him like the unrelenting pull of gravity, a force that seemed to grow heavier with each passing day.
His armor—worn and battered—was a patchwork of leather and steel, remnants of a time when he still believed in the notion of home. The obsidian mace at his side was his constant companion, its jagged edges sharpened through countless battles. It was not a weapon for the faint-hearted. It had claimed the lives of men and beasts alike. But to Nilhas, it was more than just a tool of war. It was the last piece of his family, his legacy.
His village—Eroth—was gone now, reduced to cinders in a single night, razed by the creatures of Cortia. His parents had been taken by the shadows, their bodies never found. He had no illusions. They were dead, and it was his fault for not being there when it mattered. His journey had been nothing but an endless pursuit of vengeance ever since.
But vengeance alone was a hollow goal. Every time he felled a dark creature, a monster from the realm of Cortia, it was as if the void inside him grew deeper. The emptiness could never be filled by violence, but the rage that fueled him refused to be quenched.
As Nilhas traversed the Borderlands—a cursed, desolate stretch of earth that separated the known lands from the chaotic unknown—he sensed something stir in the air. It was an odd stillness, like the world was holding its breath.
A flicker of movement in the shadows. Then another.
He wasn't alone.
Out of the dim forest emerged a beast, a hulking creature of writhing darkness, its massive form constantly shifting and flickering like it was made of smoke and nightmare. It towered over him, its eyes glowing with a malevolent red light, and its voice was like a thousand whispers all speaking at once.
"Foolish mortal," the creature growled, its form flickering in and out of visibility. "You dare to stand against me?"
Nilhas' grip tightened on his mace. The creature was no surprise. He had faced their kind before—shadow-dwelling horrors from Cortia, born of darkness and fear. They lived to devour, to corrupt.
"I'm not afraid of you," Nilhas said, his voice steady. He had no time for fear.
The creature's laughter was cold, mocking. "You are nothing but a fleeting spark in the eternal night. A single flicker that will soon be extinguished."
Nilhas didn't hesitate. He raised his mace, a weapon infused with the light of his ancestors. In one fluid motion, he swung it down with all his strength. A wave of radiant energy surged from the obsidian weapon, cutting through the air like a comet's tail, and struck the beast square in the chest.
The creature howled, the light searing its dark form. But it didn't falter. Instead, it roared and lunged, its smoky tendrils aiming to wrap around Nilhas, to crush him in its grasp.
Nilhas twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike, and felt the ground beneath his feet shudder with the force of the attack. But he had learned long ago that brute strength alone wouldn't defeat the dark creatures of Cortia. No, it was light that had power over them, and he would use it, not as a tool, but as a part of himself.
Drawing in a slow breath, Nilhas closed his eyes for a moment. The light within him—faint but resolute—surged. He could feel it, deep within his chest. It wasn't just his weapon. The light was his. His rage, his grief, and his resolve. They were one.
He lifted his mace high again, the air crackling with energy. This time, when it came down, it wasn't just the force of the weapon. It was the force of his will, his past, and his very soul.
The beam of light tore through the creature's form, and with an earsplitting scream, the beast disintegrated into ash, its essence reduced to nothingness.
Nilhas stood over the fading embers, panting, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The fight had left him drained, but the victory—empty as it was—was necessary. The land needed cleansing. And he, for better or worse, was the one to do it.
But his rest was brief.
A presence lingered in the air. Nilhas spun around, his mace at the ready, but he was met with only the figure of a cloaked stranger. The figure's robe was a deep red, almost crimson, and it seemed to shimmer with a faint aura of magic. There was something unsettling about them, though Nilhas couldn't quite place it.
"You're far from where you started, Nilhas of Eroth," the stranger spoke, their voice smooth, but carrying an ancient weight. "The land of Elderrogue does not take kindly to those who walk its paths alone."
Nilhas's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his weapon. "I don't need company," he replied bluntly, his gaze unflinching. "I'm here for one reason. To make them pay."
The stranger's lips curled in something that was almost a smile. "You misunderstand," they said, stepping closer, their eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Your fight is not against just these creatures. What you face, Nilhas, is far older, far darker. And it will take more than a single warrior—and a mace—to defeat it."
A flicker of doubt crossed Nilhas' mind, but he pushed it down quickly. He had been hunting these creatures for years, his blade always just an inch from victory. "What are you talking about?" Nilhas demanded. "I know what I face."
The stranger shook their head slowly. "You think your vengeance will end with the monsters of Cortia? You are but a piece in a much larger game. The true danger lies deeper, in the very fabric of this world."
Nilhas stiffened. He had heard rumors of such things—whispers from old travelers who spoke of ancient powers awakening, of a deeper evil stirring in the heart of Elderrogue. But he had always dismissed them. There was only one thing that mattered to him: finding the creatures who destroyed his life and avenging it.
The stranger's eyes glinted with knowing. "You will need allies if you hope to survive what is coming. Seek the Magic Academy of New Rosia. There, you may find the help you need."
"And if I don't?" Nilhas asked, though he already knew the answer.
The figure gave him a cryptic smile. "Then you will fall. Just like the others who tried to fight the darkness alone."
Without another word, the figure turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving Nilhas alone with his thoughts.
For a moment, Nilhas stood still, the weight of the stranger's words pressing against him. Allies? Magic? The Academy was no place for someone like him—a warrior, not a mage. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something larger was at play. His path was changing, whether he liked it or not.
The road to New Rosia would not be an easy one, and he wasn't sure what awaited him there. But there was one thing he knew for certain: the journey had only just begun.