The path felt long and stifling; unlike before, the scent of monsters grew heavier with every step — a humid, metallic, slightly sweet odor, typical of goblins crammed together in one place for too long.
Seralyne kicked a stone aside and broke the silence first:
"My family was always full of stories. They loved telling me about the older generations…"
Her voice sounded almost… nostalgic, which was rare.
Tila looked at her over her shoulder while adjusting her staff.
"My parents never told me much about those things. Just stories from our village — harvests, festivals… none of those ancient eras."
Anaalyn snorted, lifting her axe to clear a fallen root from the path.
"My family never told me anything. They thought human history was useless."
Seralyne shook her head.
"The great generations aren't just humans. They're everyone: dwarves, hybrids… even dragons."
Anaalyn laughed shortly.
"Dragons… sure. Your family tells each story crazier than the last."
Seralyne turned slightly, just enough for the light to catch the shimmer of the tattoos beneath her skin.
"They tell them because they saw them," she said simply — directly — and a little threateningly.
Tila swallowed.
"You… you've seen one?"
"Not a whole dragon. Just its bones. Its skull was bigger than a wagon filled to the brim."
Seralyne raised a hand, making a slow circular gesture.
"But that was enough to know that stories aren't always exaggerations."
The smell of goblin intensified. A lot.
Anaalyn tightened her grip on the axe.
"Great. Legendary stories and now stinky goblins. Perfect combination."
Seralyne smirked sideways.
"Welcome to the legacy of the generations. Sometimes it's grand… sometimes it's just disgusting."
The old wizard Revan's house appeared ahead — a crooked shadow in the greenish mist. Very different from when Revan lived there; once tidy and precise, now it looked like it had been attacked by a dragon and somehow survived.
"Are we going in full force… or do you want to plan something?"
Tila asked, already lifting her club, way too excited for her own good.
"No fucking way."
Seralyne answered immediately, both daggers already pointed toward the broken doorway.
"First time I agree with the elf."
Anaalyn said, spinning her axe on her shoulder.
But Seralyne turned her head, the serpent tattoos rippling beneath her skin.
"But please, dwarf, be careful. This house is sacred to me."
Anaalyn gave a mischievous grin.
"I'll try."
"'I'll try' isn't enough."
"Oh, screw you."
Anaalyn slammed the axe into the ground, sending shards of stone flying.
The THUNK echoed across the entire area — far too loud.
Inside the house, a chorus of grunts, stomping feet, and scraping metal responded…
The goblins had noticed.
Seralyne closed her eyes for a second and sighed, like someone who knew exactly this would happen.
Tila raised her club like a trophy.
"Well… now they know we're here."
"Of course they know, genius."
Anaalyn was already positioning herself, planting her feet, lifting the axe.
Seralyne spun the daggers in her fingers, a cold smile forming.
"Perfect. Less wasted time.
Let's finish this quickly — before you two destroy what's left of the house."
The rotten door exploded outward as the first goblin leapt out screaming.
He didn't even touch the ground.
Tila smashed his skull like overripe fruit with one brutal swing.
The body hit the earth with twitching legs giving one last spasm.
"ONE!" she counted proudly.
Two goblins charged Anaalyn with rusted blades.
She cracked her neck.
"Come."
The first one swung — and broke his own blade on her arm.
Anaalyn responded with a knee to the face that crushed his nose up into his brain.
He dropped instantly.
The other tried to retreat, but she grabbed him by the collar and chopped sideways.
His head rolled before his body slumped.
Seralyne hadn't even entered yet.
She walked as if bored.
A goblin appeared through a broken window, lunging at her.
He didn't finish the movement.
Seralyne kicked his chest — so fast no one saw the exact instant —
and he hit the ground with his neck bent at the wrong angle.
"Three," she said.
"That doesn't count!" Tila complained.
"He fell by himself!"
"I shattered his chest."
She wiped her boot on the dirt. "It counts."
Four more goblins came rushing out together, screaming like an army.
They weren't.
Anaalyn swung her axe one-handed, cleaving two in a single arc.
Their bodies split open, spraying blood.
Tila slammed her club on another's back, crushing everything from the ribs up.
Seralyne slipped between corpses like a sharp breeze:
two invisible slashes —
two goblins collapsing with their throats open before realizing they were dead.
Ten seconds.
That was all it took.
The yard fell silent, covered in twisted bodies and blood.
Tila rested her club on her shoulder, proud.
"Done. We didn't even break a sweat."
"You broke a sweat." Seralyne pointed at her forehead.
"It's hot! That doesn't count!"
Anaalyn surveyed the carnage and sighed.
"At least it was quick."
Seralyne looked at the dark doorway.
"Now let's see if they left anything intact."
Seralyne entered before either could react.
She practically hopped over corpses, opening drawers, yanking books, nudging broken wood aside with a huge grin — far bigger than during the fight.
"She's insane," Tila muttered, following.
Inside, Seralyne tore through shelves like a child in a forbidden candy room.
"If I find something these goblins didn't steal," she sang, "I'm rubbing it in your faces."
Anaalyn entered carefully, observing burn marks, holes in the roof, and the horrid smell of old goblin mixed with mold.
"I thought you were the peaceful one, Tila," she said, dodging a broken chair.
"I am peaceful," Tila replied, using the club like a walking stick.
"But goblins are invasive species. You can't feel pity."
Anaalyn raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds exactly like something not peaceful."
"No, seriously!" Tila insisted.
"They're like those giant pigs with tusks — that eat everything, destroy everything—"
"A boar," Anaalyn finished.
"Yes! Them. They're the same. So I smash."
Anaalyn sighed.
"You… smash a lot of things that aren't boars."
"Yeah. I'm like my dad. I smash first, ask later."
Deep inside the house, Seralyne screamed:
"AAAAAAH! NO WAY!"
The two rushed in — for a fraction of a second afraid —
until they found Seralyne hugging…
a dusty, ancient-marked book.
She spun with it like a prize.
"A diary! A real diary! From old Revan!"
Tila crossed her arms.
"You scared us over an old notebook?"
Seralyne clutched it tighter, offended.
"This is NOT a notebook! This is knowledge! History! It's—"
Anaalyn slapped the doorframe, which crumbled.
"Alright, alright. Just don't blow anything up, okay?"
Seralyne growled softly.
"Get close and you'll see if I blow."
She flipped through the diary like a child finally getting the candy they wanted.
The old pages released golden dust — maybe a cheap magical effect… or just goblin grime.
Tila leaned close.
"So why exactly is Revan so legendary?"
Seralyne inhaled deeply and turned dramatically to face them.
"Why?" She lifted the diary like a divine artifact.
"Simple: he revolutionized magic."
They waited for more.
Seralyne puffed out her chest and continued:
"Fire magic used to be massive explosions that drained all your mana in minutes."
She flipped to a page full of crooked runes.
"Now? Fire barriers. Stable. Controlled. You could maintain them for hours if trained."
Tila widened her eyes.
"Seriously?!"
"Yes!" Seralyne nearly spun.
"And water magic? Used to be almost only healing. Revan turned it into weapons — liquid blades, cutting pressure, steam bursts…"
She snapped her fingers.
"And he did all that young. Very young."
Anaalyn scratched her head.
"If he was that good, how'd he die to goblins?"
Seralyne hugged the diary.
"I never said he died to goblins. I just said he died. No one knows how."
Tila pointed to the diary.
"You think that thing has clues?"
Seralyne smiled — mysterious and teasing.
"If it does, I'll be the first to know. And… maybe I'll let you read it."
"Maybe?" Anaalyn grumbled.
"That depends," Seralyne said, flipping a page carefully.
"On whether you two will be nice or keep calling me princess, elf, and all that."
Tila patted her shoulder.
"Relax. We only tease people we like."
Seralyne… blushed. Just slightly.
"Idiots."
But she kept reading — slower this time —
until she reached a page.
"I feel my strength fading… and his too… this is good… I will finally see my apprentice again after so long."
"Apprentice? That doesn't make sense. Everyone knows he never had one." Seralyne kept reading.
"Will he still be sarcastic like a drunk? Did he change? Does he still have all his limbs? After the war… I'm not sure anymore."
"Who the hell is this apprentice?! Come on, Revan, SAY HIS NAME."
Seralyne barked.
"You know the book won't answer you," Anaalyn said, but Seralyne ignored her.
Seralyne turned the page hard, almost tearing it.
Tila and Anaalyn peered over her shoulder like kids watching forbidden treasure being opened.
Her expression shifted:
Curiosity.
Confusion.
Irritation.
"What the HELL, Revan!" She slapped the page. "Why didn't you write the NAME?!"
Tila tried, "Maybe it's on another page?"
Seralyne flipped through more — fast.
Nothing.
Just formulas, ingredients, scattered thoughts… and more notes about the apprentice.
"Look here—" Seralyne pointed.
The handwriting was trembling.
"If I could go back, I would tell him he didn't need to carry everything alone… but he never listened. Maybe not even now."
Seralyne breathed deeply.
"He talks about this apprentice like someone… too important. A son. A curse. Or both."
Anaalyn crossed her arms.
"Or someone he wanted to punch and hug at the same time."
"That too." Seralyne muttered, reading.
Then she froze.
"Oh no."
Tila's eyes widened.
"What? You found the name?!"
Seralyne slammed the book shut.
"No."
She inhaled. And a crooked smile formed — dangerous, mischievous, disbelieving.
"But I found something worse."
Anaalyn raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Seralyne bit her lip.
"Revan describes his apprentice as someone too stubborn to die…"
She looked at them.
"…with absurd magical talent…"
And whispered:
"…and a serious problem attracting trouble everywhere."
Tila blinked.
"So… basically Bruno."
Silence.
Anaalyn opened her mouth, closed it, opened again.
Seralyne stared at the diary like it had insulted her.
"I really hope not," she murmured.
"Because if it is… this is going to be a LOT of work."
Tila added:
"Or explain a LOT."
She turns a page.
"And you, the reader of this book, will discover the magic that captivated me and only exists in two places. In this book and in my apprentice's book."
"What would this magic be?"
She turned the page and a blinding light appeared.
The light swallowed the room.
Not normal light — something ancient, heavy, hot, like magic trying to breathe through the walls.
They shielded their eyes.
"W-what was tha—" Tila tried to say.
But they all felt it.
A presence behind them.
Cold.
Inevitable.
Lethal.
All three spoke at once — instinctive fear in perfect unison:
"Bruno?"
"Bruno?"
"Bruno?"
Tila gripped her club.
Anaalyn lifted her axe.
Seralyne turned slowly, daggers raised.
And then—
The air tore open.
Literally — like fabric being pulled inside out.
Something began forming in the center of the room.
Organs first, pulsing in the air like drawn by invisible threads.
Then bones snapping into place.
Muscles stitching themselves.
Skin sealing tight.
Hair flowing down like spilled black ink.
Clothes solidifying from smoke.
Until finally—
The eyes opened.
Not like Bruno's usual eyes.
These glowed an icy blue — precise, deadly, entirely inhuman.
Above his head, as if the world itself declared it:
SUPREME MAGIC: THE PERFECT WARRIOR
The body breathed for the first time.
One step — the floor trembled.
The three instinctively backed away.
Seralyne whispered, heart pounding:
"…that… that isn't Bruno."
Tila swallowed.
"But… but it looks like him."
Anaalyn raised her axe, voice shaking but steady:
"If this is Revan's magic… that's a construct. Or a clone. Or something worse."
The creature's — the Warrior's — eyes scanned the room.
Cold. Analytical.
Not blinking.
They couldn't stop trembling.
It was like staring at something more than human — a GOD.