As Amon entered the city, his eyes scanned the bustling streets. Beastkin with animal ears and tails, winged humanoids soaring above, and reptilian folk with shimmering scales made up most of the population. The sandstone buildings gave the city an ancient yet lively atmosphere, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.
Moving quietly, Amon made his way toward an inn. The reptilian woman at the front counter glanced up as he entered, her green scales catching the light.
"Kid, are you lost?" she asked, her tone neutral but firm.
"No. I need a room."
She nodded. "Ten ,grade five vorax a day. Meals included."
Without hesitation, Amon pulled a pouch from his belt and placed it on the counter. "Here's a deposit—100 vorax."
The woman studied him for a moment before nodding. "Want your meals brought up?"
"Yes."
With a flick of her tail, she called over a young woman with rabbit ears. "Show him to his room."
The rabbit-eared girl led Amon upstairs, the wooden floor creaking beneath their steps. Inside, the room was as plain as expected—an old wooden bed, a thin mattress on the floor, and a small table in the corner. It wasn't much, but it would do. Dropping his belongings onto the table, Amon collapsed onto the bed, exhaling deeply.
Thirteen years... he thought. Thirteen years to get here. Now, I have to claim the Legacy.
He sat up, shaking off fatigue.
"Status."
A translucent screen flickered into existence before him.
— [True Name]: [UNSHACKLED]
— [Name]: Amon von Oltheros
— [Rank]: F
— [Affinities]: Space (Locked), Time (Locked), Destruction (Locked), Dream (Locked)
— [Mana]: Null
— [Will]: E+
— [Bonded Relics]
• ??? - Grade: Common {Eternal}
Amon scowled. Even after awakening my True Name, I've only broken the barrier. I can't rely on brute force alone—it's inefficient.
Shoving the thought aside, he pulled out a worn journal from his bag and flipped it open, scribbling down everything he remembered about the Legacy.
A beastkin, ostracized due to his defective mana veins, stumbled upon the ruins in the deserts of Ankhari on Xetharis. There, he acquired the Forbidden Legacy and, consumed by vengeance, destroyed his world.
That's all the character page revealed. But how do I begin my journey?
Amon turned the gears in his mind, weighing his choices carefully.
*If I track him, I'll have to rely on his genetic condition and mana vein deficiency to narrow the search. But that could take time—too much time.*
The other option wasn't 't much better. *Exploring the vast desert blindly would be a fool's errand.*
*Both choices risk serious delays... and I don't have that luxury*.
"What to do, what to do..." he muttered, tapping his fingers against the table.
Just then, a knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
Knock. Knock.
Amon stood and opened the door to find the same rabbit-eared girl from before, a tray of food balanced in her hands.
"Sir, your meal," she said politely.
"Thank you." He took the tray and shut the door.
Sitting back down, he ate in silence, savoring each bite. The food was simple but filling, and by the time he finished, his mind had settled.
He reached for Perses, his sword wrapped in a bandaged sheath, and strapped it to his waist. The black hilt, adorned with red and golden runes, rested comfortably beneath his forearm.
Sensing movement, Perses stirred. A crimson wisp of energy shot out from the blade, forming into the familiar spectral figure. Its piercing eyes studied Amon.
"Boy, where are you going? We just got here," Perses said, his voice laced with boredom.
Amon smirked. "We're going to see if your gut feeling is right."
Perses flapped its crimson wings and perched itself on Amon's shoulder. "Then what are you waiting for?"
Amon chuckled. "Let's go."
Amon pulled his hood low, masking his features as he moved through the streets of Ankhari. The city bustled with life—beastkin children played in the alleyways, their tails flicking excitedly as they darted between sandstone buildings. Market stalls lined the roads, their vendors shouting over one another to sell spices, dried meats, and strange trinkets.
He ignored the noise. His focus was on the path ahead—the outer gate.
The air was thick with the scent of sand and spices as he approached the towering stone walls that marked the city's boundary. The same guard from earlier stood watch, his armor dusted with fine grains of sand, spear resting lazily in his grip.
Upon noticing Amon, the guard narrowed his eyes.
"You again." His tone carried an edge of curiosity. "What do you want this time?"
Amon met his gaze evenly. "I need to know where I can hunt."
The guard scoffed, glancing Amon over before replying, "If you're looking for easy prey, head north. You'll find some E-rank beasts—not too much of a threat if you know what you're doing." He paused, tapping his spear against the ground. "But don't go too far. The sandworms hunt at night, and if you stray too deep, you won't be coming back."
Amon gave a small nod. "Noted."
The guard studied him for a moment longer, as if trying to decide whether to warn him further. Eventually, he sighed and waved him through.
Stepping beyond the city walls, Amon entered the vast desert.
---
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting an amber glow over the dunes. The air shimmered with heat, distorting the landscape into a mirage of endless waves. Each step Amon took left a crisp imprint in the golden sand before the wind erased all trace of his passing.
North, he reminded himself.
Despite the isolation, Amon remained cautious. He wasn't naïve—many things lurked beneath the desert's surface, waiting for the right moment to strike.
After an hour of trekking, the land shifted. The sand grew denser, compacted into cracked earth, and scattered rock formations jutted out like remnants of an ancient battlefield. Signs of life emerged—beast tracks embedded in the ground, some fresh, others faded.
Amon knelt, tracing the patterns with his fingers.
"Small pack… three, maybe four. Not long ago," he muttered to himself.
From the distance, a low growl rumbled through the air.
Amon's gaze snapped toward a ridge where a shadow moved against the setting sun.
A beast emerged—its feline frame lean and predatory, covered in dark, bristling fur that blended into the twilight. Its amber eyes locked onto him with cold intelligence.
'Shadow panther.'
Amon's grip tightened on Perses, his sheathed sword humming with restrained energy.
"Looks like we found our first test," Perses murmured from within the blade, its spectral presence stirring.
Amon smirked. *Let's see if you're worth my time.*
With a slow, deliberate motion, he unsheathed Perses. The runes along the hilt of black blade pulsed faintly.
The beast snarled and crouched low, muscles coiling for an attack.
Amon exhaled, shifting his stance.
Then, it pounced.