CHAPTER 1: Legends and Beginnings Fifty Years Ago
The sky screamed.
Not as a figure of speech. The air itself shrieked as reality tore open above the Dying Lands, vomiting thousands of twisted demons that broke every law of nature. They surged across the scorched earth in waves of claws, fangs, and pure hatred.
"Crrrreeeeaaahhh!"
"SSSKKKRRAAA!"
Their combined screams created a single note of absolute destruction, rattling the ground and scorching the air itself.
At the center of the battlefield stood six figures, facing the one called Knabok, the Destroyer of Void.
"HOLD THE LINE!" The Orc King's voice boomed across the chaos. His war hammer crushed three demons into black blood with a single swing. Claws raked across his chest, tearing deep wounds that sealed themselves shut before the blood could even drip.
"If we fall, everything falls!" A demon jumped at him from behind. It died in two pieces before it could land.
"Then we don't fall." The Sword God's blade sang through the air. Every movement was precise and deadly. Where he stepped, demons died. Where his sword passed, magic itself fell apart.
"For humanity. For everyone under these skies." The earth answered a wordless call.
Massive roots exploded from the blood-soaked ground, thick as ancient trees, wrapping around dozens of demons and dragging them down into crushing embraces. Mother Viola stood at the center of a growing forest of violence, her voice carrying notes of power that made the world itself obey.
"The light endures," she sang, and flowers bloomed in the carnage, beautiful, defiant, alive.
"Darkness may rage, but the root of life will not yield."
Above the battlefield, reality bent to a single will.
The Dragon King hung in the air, wings spread wide, and the elements themselves bowed to him. Fire became ice became lightning became wind, a storm of elemental fury that erased entire sections of the demon horde from existence. Each breath was a natural disaster. Each movement redrew the battlefield.
He roared, a sound that split the sky and shook the earth.
"Keep them contained! The seal needs time!"
Through the chaos moved a crimson shadow.
Dracula Darkvorn didn't fight. He danced. Blood crystallized in his hands, forming blades, spears, and shields that shifted with each elegant motion. Where he passed, demons fell in perfect sprays of blood. Efficient. Beautiful. Deadly.
"Then buy us eternity," he said, his voice somehow carrying despite being quiet. "Because anything less means failure."
Silver light exploded across a cluster of demons.
"KRAAASHHH!"
The earth shuddered beneath the Beast King as he landed among them, empowered by the full moon's blessing, moving with savage grace that made apex predators look tame. Claws tore through demonic flesh. Fangs found throats. Behind him, only silence remained.
"GRRRHHH!" He growled, already moving toward the next target.
"Eternity it is," he muttered, eyes locked on the next cluster of demons.
For hours they fought. For days. Time lost all meaning in the endless cycle of violence.
Then the darkness gathered itself and took form.
The demons scattered like frightened animals, scrambling away from the figure that formed at the center of their horde. Reality warped around him, bending away as if repulsed by his very existence. Knabok, the Destroyer of Void, manifested before them.
He was beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful. Terrible in the way an avalanche is terrible. His form kept shifting, never quite settling into a single shape, as if the world itself couldn't figure out how to contain him.
"Still struggling?" His voice rolled across the battlefield, and even the demons faltered as the ground seemed to shiver beneath him. His voice came from everywhere and nowhere, carrying both amusement and contempt.
"How... pathetic."
"Your reign ends today, Knabok!" Draxarion unleashed a torrent of elemental power that should have leveled mountains.
The Destroyer of Void caught it. With one hand. The elements swirled around his fingers before vanishing into nothing.
"Bold words," he said, tilting his head.
"Tell me. Six legendary warriors, united for the first time in history, and yet..." He gestured lazily at the battlefield.
"You're barely holding ground."
"We don't need to defeat you." Encrid stepped forward, his blade glowing with concentrated power.
"We just need to seal you."
The Destroyer of Void's laughter echoed across dimensions.
"A cage? You think you can cage me?"
"I am Knabok! I am inevitable. I am the end of all things."
"Your seal will crack. Your descendants will weep. And I will remember each of you when I return."
"Then let us make sure you have a long time to remember." Dracula's voice was ice. His blood magic formed into massive chains, wrapping around Knabok's body.
The other five moved in perfect sync.
"By the pact of six races united!" Viola's voice rang clear. "By blood, by steel, by fang, by flame, by earth, and by sky, we bind you!"
Light erupted. Not gentle dawn light, but the harsh, absolute light of a star being born. Chains of pure energy wrapped around the Destroyer of Void, layer after layer, dragging him down into the scarred earth.
His scream shook the world's foundations.
"Fifty years!" Knabok howled as the seal closed around him. "A hundred! A thousand! It doesn't matter! When I return, I will make you regret this day! Your children will pay for your arrogance! Your bloodlines will be the first I destroy!"
The seal closed with a sound like reality sighing in relief.
Silence fell across the Dying Lands.
The six warriors stood there, exhausted, bloodied, but alive. The demons were gone, either destroyed or fled back to whatever hell spawned them.
"Is it done?" Zod leaned heavily on his hammer.
"For now." Draxarion descended, his wings fading as he returned to humanoid form. "But he's right. Eventually, the seal will weaken."
"Then we prepare." Encrid sheathed his blade. "We build something that lasts beyond us."
"An academy," Dracula said, staring at the sealed ground. "A place where all six races can train together. Where the next generation learns to fight as we did."
"Phantom Crest," Ranga suggested. "In honor of this day. In honor of what we became."
Viola placed her hand on the seal. "May our children be ready when the darkness returns."
They looked at each other, these six legendary figures, and nodded.
The first step toward the future was taken.
Present Day
Ryou Lykandor woke to the sound of wheels on cobblestone.
He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up straight in the cramped carriage seat. The illustrated history book lay open in his lap, showing a detailed painting of six figures standing over a sealed circle of dark energy.
"The Six Phantom Kings," he said quietly, tracing the image with one finger.
"Impressive, weren't they?" Ryou looked up at the elderly merchant sharing the carriage, a dwarf with a magnificent beard and kind eyes.
"They saved the world," Ryou said simply.
"That they did, lad. Fifty years ago, when I was just a young fool." The dwarf chuckled. "Still remember the celebrations when news spread that Knabok, the Destroyer of Void, was sealed. Three days and nights of festivities in every kingdom. Humans, elves, orcs, dragons, vampires, beastfolk... all of us united in relief."
Ryou closed the book carefully, running his hand over the worn cover. It was one of the few things he'd brought from his village. One of the few things left.
"You think he'll return?" Ryou asked.
The dwarf's expression grew serious. "Seals don't last forever, boy. Magic fades. Time wears things down. The Phantom Kings knew that. That's why they built that academy you're heading to."
As if on cue, the carriage reached the top of a hill.
Ryou's breath caught.
Phantom Crest Academy spread across the valley below, impossibly vast, impossibly grand. Six magnificent halls rose from the grounds, each one a masterpiece representing one of the great races. Crystal spires caught the afternoon sun. Floating gardens drifted between buildings. And at the center, massive iron gates stood open.
Welcoming him.
Or challenging him.
"End of the line, passengers!" The driver called out. "Phantom Crest Academy!"
The carriage rolled to a stop outside the gates. Ryou shouldered his worn travel bag, everything he owned fitting into a single pack, and stepped down onto cobblestones that had been walked by legends.
His hands trembled slightly.
He clenched them into fists.
"First time?" a cheerful voice called out.
Ryou looked down to find a goblin grinning up at him. Green skin, pointed ears sticking out comically, barely reaching Ryou's waist. But his eyes were sharp, intelligent, and thoroughly amused.
"That obvious?" Ryou asked.
"Only to someone who's been watching nervous commoners arrive all morning." The goblin stuck out a hand. "Zix. Zix the Quick. Scholarship student. Aspiring magical engineer. And as of right now, your new best friend."
Ryou couldn't help but smile as he shook the offered hand. "Ryou Lykandor. Human. Commoner. Apparently easy to read."
"Nah, you just have that look. That 'I'm about to walk into something way bigger than me but I'm doing it anyway' look." Zix released his hand and gestured toward the gates. "I like that look. Come on, orientation waits for no one, and trust me, you don't want to be late on your first day."
They passed through the iron gates together.
The main courtyard was pure chaos and wonder. Hundreds of students moved between buildings, their voices creating a constant hum. Floating crystals provided light, hovering like captured stars. Fountains defied gravity, water flowing upward before cascading down in shimmering curtains. And everywhere Ryou looked, he saw magic.
A group of elven students practiced archery, their arrows splitting into dozens of copies mid-flight. Three orc warriors sparred barehanded, their blows creating shockwaves that cracked the training ground stones. A dragon in partial transformation flew overhead, scales glinting gold and crimson. Vampire students moved through shadows, appearing and disappearing with ease.
Ryou had never felt smaller in his life.
"Overwhelming, right?" Zix said, noticing his expression. "Don't worry, you get used to it. Mostly. Sometimes."
He pointed at the various halls. "That's Crimson Fang Hall for the vampires. All gothic and dramatic. Emerald Glade Hall for the elves, literally grown from a living tree. Iron Mountain Hall for the orcs, built like a fortress because of course it is. Golden Scale Hall floats because dragons think gravity is optional. And that beauty over there is Azure Blade Hall. Human territory. Our home."
"It's incredible," Ryou said softly.
"It's going to be our crucible," Zix replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. "This place doesn't care where you came from. Noble, commoner, scholarship. Doesn't matter. You fight, you earn, you rise. Or you wash out."
He looked up at Ryou. "So... you planning to rise?"
Ryou met his eyes. "Yeah. I am."
Zix's grin returned. "Good answer. Let's get you registered before all the good dorm rooms are taken."
The registration hall was organized chaos. Crystal displays showed student names, class assignments, and dormitory locations, updating in real-time as clerks processed new arrivals. Nobles moved through the crowd with natural confidence, students parting for them without thinking. Commoners clustered in nervous groups, clutching their registration papers like lifelines.
Ryou joined the line for human students.
The process was efficient if impersonal. Name. Age. Race. Magical aptitude test, a crystal that glowed a dim copper when Ryou touched it. Combat assessment scheduled for tomorrow. Dormitory assignment.
A copper badge appeared in the clerk's hand, marked with a simple "D."
"Class D," the clerk said in a bored tone. "Copper badge means commoner status. Dorm room 347 in Azure Blade Hall. Next!"
Ryou took the badge, feeling its weight in his palm. Class D. The lowest tier. The bottom of the hierarchy.
"Room 348!" Zix appeared at his elbow, flashing his own copper badge. "Right next door to you. What are the odds?"
"You arranged this," Ryou said.
"I'm a goblin. We arrange everything." Zix winked. "Come on, let's drop our stuff and get to the courtyard. You'll want to see this."
They walked through the corridors of Azure Blade Hall. The building was beautiful in a practical way. All clean lines and functional design. Weapons hung on walls as decoration. Banners from past tournaments lined the hallways. The air hummed with leftover magic from years of training.
Room 347 was small. A bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a window overlooking the training grounds. Simple. Practical. Perfect.
Ryou set his bag down and moved to the window. Below, students were already training, their movements showing years of instruction and natural talent. Fire spells. Ice barriers. Lightning arcs. Sword techniques moving faster than his eyes could track.
He held up his hand and concentrated. A small flame appeared, hovering above his palm. The most fundamental fire spell in existence. He let it fade and made an Ice Shard. Then a Wind Gust. Then a simple Light.
That was it. That was the limit of his power. Basic magic. Nothing more. Nothing less. Not now. Not ever.
His mana circuits were compressed, malformed, unable to handle the complex patterns needed for anything beyond Tier 1 spells. Every mage who'd examined him said the same thing: he'd never cast Intermediate magic. Never summon Advanced spells. Never touch Ultimate techniques.
He was broken. Incomplete. Limited.
Ryou lowered his hand and smiled.
Limited didn't mean weak. It just meant he'd have to be creative.
A knock on his door broke his thoughts.
"Ryou! Orientation starts in twenty minutes!" Zix's voice came through the wood. "Move it or lose it!"
Ryou grabbed his copper badge and headed out.
The Grand Hall
The Grand Hall lived up to its name.
It could have held a thousand students comfortably. It held three thousand with room to spare. Banners representing the six great races hung from the high ceiling. Magical lights floated overhead, casting a warm glow that made the whole space feel almost welcoming despite its intimidating size.
Ryou and Zix found seats near the back, just two more copper badges in a sea of copper, silver, and gold.
The noise was incredible. Conversations echoed off stone walls. Students called to friends. Nobles held court in their sections, surrounded by followers. The air practically vibrated with excitement and nervous energy.
Then silence fell.
Headmaster Aldric Steelhart walked to the podium.
He was human, but he carried himself like a natural disaster. Broad-shouldered, gray-haired, with eyes that had seen more battles than most students had seen days. A veteran of the Great War. A survivor who had fought alongside the Phantom Kings themselves.
"Welcome," his voice carried without magical help, "to Phantom Crest Academy."
Three thousand students held their breath.
"Fifty years ago, the world nearly ended. Knabok, the Destroyer of Void, and his legions threatened to consume everything we knew, everything we loved. Six warriors, six legends, united the races for the first time in history and sealed that darkness away." Aldric's gaze swept the hall. "But they knew. They knew the seal wouldn't last forever. They knew the darkness would return. So they built this place."
He gestured to the hall, to the academy beyond.
"This is not just a school. This is a forge. When Knabok returns, and he will return, you will be the ones standing against him. Not your parents. Not legends from history books. You."
The weight of those words settled over the hall like a physical thing.
"This academy operates on one principle: merit." Aldric's voice hardened. "I don't care if you're the child of a Phantom King or a farmer's son. I don't care if you have gold in your blood or copper in your pocket. What matters is what you do. How you fight. How you grow. How you earn your place."
Ryou leaned forward, hanging on every word.
"You will compete. You will struggle. You will fail. And you will rise. Or you won't." Aldric smiled, and it wasn't gentle. "Those who prove themselves will climb the ranks. The top one hundred get access to advanced training grounds. The top fifty train personally with our master instructors. The top ten..." He paused. "The top ten become the Elite. The examples. The champions."
A door opened at the side of the hall.
Six students entered, and the entire atmosphere changed.
They wore gold badges. They moved with absolute confidence. And the pressure of their presence made Ryou's breath catch.
"The current Elite Ten," Aldric announced. "The top ten strongest students in this academy. Today, you'll meet the top six. All children of the Phantom Kings themselves. The ones you'll chase. The ones you'll challenge. The ones you'll surpass... if you can."
The first stepped forward.
Golden hair caught the light. Blue eyes looked over the crowd with barely hidden superiority. A sword hung at his hip, somehow more imposing than weapons twice its size.
"Aamon Celsborne," he said, voice clear and strong. "Son of the Sword God. Current Apex, Rank 1 of the Elite Ten." His gaze swept the crowd. "I welcome all challenges. Though I doubt any of you are ready."
Ryou's jaw tightened.
The second stepped forward, and heat radiated from him.
Red hair with hints of gold. Eyes like molten metal. Scales visible on his neck and arms, proof of his dragon blood.
"Draven Vael'Korath. Son of the Dragon King. Rank 2." His grin was all teeth. "Show me what you've got, fresh blood."
The third moved forward with supernatural grace.
Silver hair. Crimson eyes. Pale skin that seemed to glow in the magical light. Beautiful in a way that was almost unreal, which made sense given what she was.
"Bellavere Darkvorn. Daughter of Dracula. Rank 3." Her voice was soft but carried perfectly. "I look forward to seeing what this year brings."
Ryou found himself staring before he could stop himself.
The fourth was imposing.
Green skin marked with ritual scars. Short white hair. Muscles that spoke of endless training. Eyes that judged everyone with the calm confidence of someone who knew they were stronger than you.
"Grisha Bragnar. Daughter of the Orc King. Rank 4." Her voice was blunt and direct. "I don't waste time with words. Prove yourself in combat or don't bother me."
Ryou couldn't look away. There was something about her presence, the absolute certainty in her stance, that demanded attention.
The fifth stepped forward with barely contained wildness.
Silver hair and amber eyes. Wolf-like features even in human form. An aura of primal power.
"Barou Panthera. Son of the Beast King. Rank 5." He showed teeth in something that wasn't quite a smile. "The hunt is always open. Try not to be boring prey."
The sixth moved forward with natural grace.
Long blonde hair. Emerald eyes that held centuries of wisdom despite her youthful appearance. An aura of nature and growing things surrounded her.
"Sylvanya Lunara. Daughter of Mother Viola. Rank 6." She smiled gently. "May we all grow stronger together."
The six of them stood together, a wall of talent, bloodline, and power that seemed utterly impossible to reach.
"These are your current top six," Aldric said simply. "But the Elite Ten has room for ten warriors. Ranks seven through ten are open, waiting to be claimed. And every rank above can be challenged. These six are your targets. These are your goals. Can you reach them? Can you surpass them? That's up to you."
The six elite students returned to their seats, and normal orientation continued. Rules. Schedules. Tournament announcements. Class assignments.
Ryou barely heard any of it.
His eyes tracked the six gold badges. Six children of the Phantom Kings. Six natural-born legends holding the top six ranks of the Elite Ten, with four spots still waiting to be claimed.
"Thinking of challenging them?" Zix whispered.
Ryou was quiet for a long moment. Then, so quietly only Zix could hear: "Not yet. But someday."
"That's insane," Zix said.
"Probably."
"They're children of legends. Born with talent most people can only dream of."
"I know."
"You can only use basic magic."
"I know."
"You're going to do it anyway, aren't you?"
Ryou finally looked at his new friend and smiled. It wasn't a confident smile. It wasn't a cocky smile. It was simply... certain.
"Yeah. I am."
Zix studied him for a moment, then grinned. "Well then. Guess I better start designing equipment for a madman. You're going to need all the help you can get."
As the assembly ended and students began leaving, Ryou glanced back toward where the top six had been sitting.
Bellavere Darkvorn was looking his way.
Their eyes met. Crimson and black. For just a heartbeat.
Then she turned away, following her fellow elite students out of the hall.
Ryou touched the copper badge on his chest. Class D. The bottom. The starting line.
But every legend started somewhere.
And fifty years from now, when someone told the story of what happened at Phantom Crest Academy, when they talked about the generation that faced Knabok's return...
Ryou was going to make sure his name was in that story.
He followed Zix out into the evening air, hands steady, heart determined.
The climb was going to be brutal.
But he was ready for it.
END OF CHAPTER 1