Arania
A land of contradictions. Filled with gleaming floating cities that soared the skies, their towers of enchanted steel and crystal reflecting the sun with dazzling brilliance. Skyships glided silently between them, powered not by fire but by condensed mana, leaving trails of luminescent light that painted the sky like a second aurora.
At the heart of this advancement stood Virelith, the capital of Nalvania, a radiant metropolis where magic and technology intertwined seamlessly, its towering spires visible even from distant horizons like a promise or a warning of power. On the streets below, enchanted carriages glimmered as they floated inches above polished stone roads, and automatons, some small as cats, some human-sized, scurried tirelessly performing tasks from delivery to security. It was a world of technological marvels fused with the raw art of magic, where mana flowed as naturally as wind.
Yet beneath that grandeur, the land remained wild. Endless forests of towering, twisted trees reached skyward like ancient guardians, their roots tangled with ruins of forgotten empires. Streams of glowing mana seeped through the earth like rivers of light. In these forests, beasts, some natural, some born of unstable mana, roamed freely. The world rewarded strength, cunning, and courage. Peace was fragile, and war was inevitable.
In the southern kingdom of Nalvania, far from the brilliance of Virelith and its floating districts, lay a small, quiet village called Oreh. The village was simple, wooden homes reinforced with stone, their rooftops darkened with years of sun and rain. Dirt paths wound between homes, lined with small herb gardens. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, carrying the scent of burning wood and baking bread. In the mornings, mist hovered low to the ground, softening edges and turning every step into a careful negotiation with the earth.
It was here that Nero lived. Or rather, it was here that he survived, a boy shaped more by loss than by time, with sharp, observant eyes that missed little and a quiet intensity that often unsettled those around him. His dark hair was often unkempt from long hours of training, his hands rough and scarred despite his youth, and his body carried the early marks of discipline forced too soon. Nero was not loud, nor particularly expressive, but beneath his calm exterior burned a relentless drive, to grow stronger, to protect, and to ensure that no one close to him would ever be taken away again.
Nero's parents, Nexus and Rosiella, had been ordinary adventurers. Brave, skilled, and kind, they had perished years ago facing the legendary dragon, the Black Death, that had terrorized villages in the south. Nero was raised by his grandparents, Garrick and Serena, under their careful watch, trained relentlessly to survive in a world that demanded strength.
Garrick, a broad-shouldered man with a scarred jaw and gray-streaked hair, had been a warrior in his youth. His presence was imposing, even now. He rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it carried authority like the earth itself speaking. Serena, calm and graceful, had a sharp mind and gentle hands, tending to both the household and the training of Nero.
"You're favoring your left foot again," Elliana said, adjusting Nero's stance as he swung his wooden practice sword.
"I am not," Nero protested, though a grin betrayed him.
"Yes, you are," Elliana said firmly. Her violet eyes, steady and unwavering, locked onto his, forcing him to focus. She moved with the precision of someone who had been trained in magic and blade alike, every step calculated, every movement controlled.
Nero adjusted, then attacked. She sidestepped with a faint hum of mana, tapping his wrist with her blade.
"…Again," he muttered.
"Again," she confirmed. "…You leave the same opening every time."
They had been childhood friends in Oreh, training under Garrick's watchful eye. Elliana, too, had lost her parents young, and the two had grown up together, honing their skills in sword and magic. Though they weren't lovers, a quiet, unspoken bond had formed, a trust stronger than words, built on countless hours of shared struggle and silent understanding.
Evenings were spent near the hearth. Nero sharpened his sword while Garrick observed, leaning on a cane he used only occasionally.
"Your parents… they chose their path," Garrick said quietly, breaking the silence. "And they paid the price. You must understand that life does not forgive mistakes lightly."
Nero's hands tightened on the blade. "…Then I'll surpass them. I won't… I won't let anyone else die because I was weak."
Serena placed a hand on his shoulder. "Strength is not just in the sword, Nero. Balance it with heart. Control it with your mind."
Elliana, standing across the room, nodded. "…And I'll be with you. We survive together."
Nero's eyes met hers. No words were needed. A silent promise passed between them, one that neither could speak yet both felt in the core of their being.
The next morning, they packed for the journey to the capital. The air was crisp, the mist still lingering over Oreh's fields. Garrick handed Nero a reinforced gauntlet.
"Control," he said.
To Elliana, Serena gave a pendant that glimmered faintly with protective magic.
"Balance," she said.
Nero stepped forward, sword at his side, pack secured on his back. Elliana moved beside him, her own blade glinting in the morning light. Together, they left the village behind, heading toward the distant, towering brilliance of Virelith, its spires piercing the horizon like a beacon of destiny, unaware that every step forward would take them closer to the betrayals, horrors, and impossible decisions that awaited them.
---
The road stretched long and unyielding before them, winding through forests that seemed to whisper with unseen life and across plains where the wind carried the distant echoes of creatures hidden from sight. Days passed in steady rhythm footsteps, quiet conversations, the occasional clash of steel against wandering beasts that strayed too close.
At night, they rested beneath open skies, the stars above vast and indifferent. Nero often found himself staring upward longer than necessary, his thoughts drifting beyond the present.
"…Do you think they were afraid?" he asked one night, his voice low, almost lost to the crackling of the fire.
Elliana, seated across from him, paused as she adjusted the bindings of her blade. "…Your parents?"
Nero nodded.
She was silent for a moment before answering. "…Maybe. But they still chose to fight. That's what matters."
Nero let out a quiet breath, his gaze returning to the flames. "…Then I'll do the same."
Elliana's eyes softened slightly, though her voice remained steady. "…I know you will."
The fire burned low between them, casting long shadows that danced across their faces, neither noticing how often their gazes lingered just a moment longer than necessary.
---
By the time they reached the final ridge, the air had changed. It was subtle at first—lighter, almost charged, as though the very wind carried traces of condensed mana.
Nero slowed his steps. "…Do you feel that?"
Elliana nodded faintly. "…We're close."
They crested the ridge, and stopped.
Before them stood Virelith.
The capital did not merely exist within the land; it commanded it. Towering spires of crystal and enchanted steel pierced the heavens, their surfaces reflecting the sunlight into radiant cascades of gold and white. Entire districts floated high above the ground, suspended by vast circular arrays of rotating runes that hummed softly, their motion steady and precise.
Skyships drifted between these floating structures, their movements slow and deliberate, leaving trails of luminous energy that lingered in the air like fading constellations. Bridges of pure mana stretched between towers, shimmering faintly, while streams of water defied gravity, flowing upward into elevated reservoirs that fed the city from above.
Even from this distance, the city felt alive. Not in the way a forest breathed or a village stirred, but in something far greater. A constant, overwhelming presence, like a heart that never ceased beating.
"…It's…" Nero began, but found no words to follow.
Elliana stood beside him, her violet eyes reflecting the distant glow. For once, even she seemed momentarily at a loss. "…So this is Virelith."
Nero tightened his grip on his pack. "…It feels like it's watching us."
Elliana shook her head slightly. "…No. It's not watching." She took a step forward. "…It's waiting."
A faint smile touched Nero's lips. "…Then let's not keep it waiting."
Together, they descended the ridge.
---
The closer they came, the more overwhelming the city became. The outer districts alone were larger than anything they had ever see. Rows of stone structures reinforced with metal, bustling with merchants, travelers, and adventurers. The roads were no longer dirt but polished stone, etched faintly with guiding runes that pulsed beneath their feet.
Carriages floated silently past them, their movement smooth and effortless. Automatons weaved through the crowds, carrying goods, assisting civilians, or standing guard with unmoving precision. The air was filled with overlapping sounds—voices, footsteps, distant machinery, and the faint hum of magic that never truly faded.
Nero's eyes moved constantly, taking everything in. "…There's… so many people."
Elliana walked steadily beside him, though her gaze was just as observant. "…And every one of them is here for a reason."
They passed through the massive gates of the inner city, guarded by armored figures whose presence alone radiated authority. No words were exchanged, only a brief glance at their belongings before they were allowed entry.
Beyond the gates, Virelith revealed its true scale.
The buildings grew taller, more intricate, their designs blending artistry and function seamlessly. Mana lamps floated overhead, casting steady light even as the sun began to lower. The ground itself seemed to hum faintly beneath their steps, as though the entire city was built upon a foundation of controlled power.
At the center, rising above all else, stood the guild.
---
The guild hall was monumental. Its structure was forged from a seamless fusion of stone, steel, and luminous crystal veins that pulsed faintly with mana. Massive pillars lined the entrance, each carved with names, countless names, of adventurers who had come before.
Nero slowed as they approached, his gaze drawn to the carvings. "…All of them… made it this far."
Elliana's voice was quiet. "…And not all of them made it back."
The massive doors stood open.
They stepped inside.
The sheer scale of the interior stole the breath from Nero's lungs.
The hall rose upward across multiple levels, open and expansive, with balconies circling above. A chandelier of floating crystal shards hovered at the center, each piece rotating slowly, casting shifting patterns of light across the vast space.
The air was thick, not suffocating, but heavy with presence. Magic lingered everywhere, woven into the very structure.
Adventurers filled the hall.
Some wore armor marked with deep scars, their expressions hardened by countless battles. Others carried weapons that hummed faintly with power. Blades, bows, staffs, each one a testament to experience and survival. Groups gathered around mission boards, voices low and serious. Nearby, a sparring area rang with the clash of steel, while controlled bursts of magic flared within protective barriers.
Nero instinctively straightened, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. "…This place…"
Elliana stepped slightly ahead, her posture calm, unwavering. "…This is where strength is measured."
Nero exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "…Then we prove ours."
Without hesitation, they walked forward together, their footsteps echoing faintly against the polished stone floor, two unknown adventurers stepping into a world that would soon remember their names.
And somewhere within the vast hall, unseen among the countless figures, eyes had already begun to notice them.
---
They did not stop walking until they stood before the main counter.
Up close, the weight of the guild pressed even heavier. The stone desk was carved from a single slab of dark material, its surface etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly whenever a document was placed upon it. Behind it stood several clerks, each moving with practiced efficiency, their expressions neutral despite the constant flow of voices and requests.
A man with sharp features and thin spectacles glanced up as Nero and Elliana approached. His gaze lingered on them briefly, not dismissive, but measuring.
"First time?" he asked.
Nero nodded. "…Yes."
The clerk gestured toward a set of forms laid neatly on the counter. "Names."
"Nero," he replied.
"Elliana" she followed without hesitation.
The clerk's pen moved quickly, scratching across parchment with quiet precision. His eyes flicked between them once more, noting their posture, their weapons, the faint aura of mana surrounding them.
"…Swordmages," he muttered. Not a question, an observation.
Elliana inclined her head slightly. "…Yes."
The clerk placed two small circular badges onto the counter. Each was etched with the guild's emblem, a sword entwined with a dragon's wing, and faintly warm to the touch, as though holding a fragment of mana within.
"These identify you as registered adventurers. Do not lose them. Without them, you are nothing within these walls."
Nero picked his up, turning it over briefly before fastening it to his belt. "…Understood."
"Your rank is provisional," the clerk continued. "Low-tier missions only. Survival determines advancement. Recklessness determines death."
There was no emotion in his voice. Only fact.
Elliana took her badge and secured it neatly. "…That's all we need."
The clerk gave a small nod, already turning to the next set of documents. "Then begin."
---
The mission board stood along the far wall, a massive structure of reinforced metal divided into sections. Sheets of parchment were affixed to its surface, each glowing faintly to indicate its rank and status. Adventurers gathered before it, scanning, selecting, arguing quietly among themselves.
Nero stepped closer, eyes moving from one request to another.
"Escort mission… too slow," he murmured.
"Delivery… not worth the time," Elliana added, her gaze sharp and calculating.
They moved along the board in silence, instinctively aligning in thought.
"…This one," Elliana said finally.
Nero leaned closer.
"Subjugation Request: Whispering Woods
Corrupted wolf pack sighted. Moderate threat. Eliminate and report."
Nero exhaled softly. "…Direct. Efficient."
Elliana nodded. "…And a good test of coordination."
He tore the request from the board. "…Then we take it."
---
The Whispering Woods lay just beyond the outer boundaries of Virelith. Though less dense than the deeper forests of the south, the air carried a strange stillness, mana lingering just beneath the surface, distorting sound and movement in subtle ways.
Nero stepped carefully over a fallen branch, his hand resting lightly on his sword. "…Stay close."
"I am," Elliana replied, her voice calm.
The forest seemed to respond to their presence. Leaves rustled without wind. Shadows stretched slightly longer than they should.
"…They're watching," Nero said.
Elliana's fingers tightened slightly around her blade. "…Then let them."
A low growl answered.
From the undergrowth, shapes emerged—wolves, their forms larger than normal, their fur streaked with faint lines of glowing corruption. Their eyes burned with unnatural light, fixed entirely on the two intruders.
Nero drew his sword, crimson mana tracing along its edge. "…We end this quickly."
Elliana stepped beside him, her blade shimmering with silver light. "…Together."
The wolves lunged.
The first strike came fast—too fast for an untrained fighter. Nero met it head-on, steel colliding with claw, the impact sending a shock through his arm. He pivoted, redirecting the force, his blade cutting cleanly across the creature's side.
Another leapt from the flank.
Elliana moved before it could land. Her blade traced a precise arc, mana reinforcing the strike as it met the wolf mid-air, sending it crashing into the ground.
"Left," she said calmly.
Nero shifted instantly, blocking a second attack. "…Got it."
They moved as one.
There was no hesitation between them, no need for extended words. Every motion flowed into the next, each covering the other's blind spots, each anticipating the other's response. Crimson and silver light intertwined, cutting through the corrupted beasts with controlled precision.
The final wolf hesitated, its body trembling, instincts warning it too late.
Nero stepped forward and ended it with a single strike.
Silence returned.
---
For a moment, neither spoke. Only the sound of their breathing filled the space between them.
Nero lowered his sword slowly. "…Clean."
Elliana scanned the area once more before relaxing slightly. "…Efficient."
He glanced at her, a faint smile forming. "…We're getting better."
"…We are," she replied.
There was a pause, brief, quiet, yet filled with something unspoken.
Nero looked away first, sheathing his blade. "…Let's report back."
Elliana nodded, though her gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer than necessary.
---
The weeks that followed passed in steady progression.
Mission after mission, they improved.
They delivered enchanted goods across the outer districts, cleared minor infestations of mana-corrupted creatures, and assisted in tasks that required both precision and trust. Each success built their reputation, however small. Each failure, few as they were, became a lesson they did not repeat.
They trained between missions, refining their swordmage abilities. Nero's strikes grew sharper, faster, his control over mana more defined. Elliana's movements became even more precise, her calm nature allowing her to adapt and analyze in ways others could not.
At times, their hands would brush while adjusting positions. At times, their gazes would meet for just a second too long. Neither spoke of it.
They didn't need to.
---
It was during one of these evenings, within a quieter section of the guild hall, that everything began to change.
"…You two."
The voice came from behind them—confident, almost amused.
Nero turned.
A group stood there.
Seven individuals, each carrying themselves with a presence that immediately set them apart from the rest of the hall. Their gear was refined, their weapons worn not from neglect but from heavy use. Their eyes held something different, not just experience, but certainty.
At their center stood a man with a relaxed yet commanding posture, a faint smirk resting on his lips.
"…You've been making a name for yourselves," he said.
Elliana's gaze sharpened slightly. "…Who are you?"
The man's smirk widened.
"…We're the ones you want to be."
A brief pause.
"…The Seven Snakes."
The name alone carried weight.
Even within the noise of the guild hall, a subtle shift occurred. Conversations nearby softened, glances turned, and a quiet awareness spread as the group stood before them.
Nero felt it immediately, the difference between ordinary adventurers and those who had survived long enough to be remembered.
Bastron stepped forward first.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, his movements relaxed but controlled, like a predator that had long since mastered its instincts. A massive sword rested across his back, its edge faintly chipped from countless battles, yet still radiating power. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, framing eyes that seemed sharp enough to cut through pretense.
"You're Nero," he said, not asking.
Nero met his gaze. "…Yes."
"And you're Elliana."
She gave a slight nod. "…We are."
Bastron's smirk deepened. "…Good. That saves time."
Jien stepped forward next, far less restrained.
He carried himself with a kind of effortless flair, his bow resting lazily against his shoulder as though it weighed nothing. His hair caught the light, shifting slightly with each movement, and his grin was the kind that never fully revealed its intent.
"So these are the two everyone's been whispering about?" he said, circling them once, openly observing. "…Not bad. You've got decent posture. That's already better than half the people here."
Nero frowned slightly. "…We're not here for praise."
Jien chuckled. "Good. Because I don't give it easily."
Sky stood just behind them, her presence quieter, but no less commanding.
Her robes flowed gently, untouched by the movement around her, as though magic itself parted to accommodate her. Her beauty was striking, but it was her eyes that held attention, calm, observant, and distant in a way that suggested she was always thinking several steps ahead.
"You work well together," she said, her voice soft, almost soothing. "That's rare."
Elliana met her gaze evenly. "…We've trained together for years."
Sky inclined her head slightly. "…It shows."
Donrius shifted his weight, the ground almost seeming to respond beneath him.
He was massive—not just in size, but in presence. His armor bore deep marks, not polished away but left as reminders. The axe resting against his shoulder looked heavy enough to break stone with a single swing.
He studied Nero for a moment before speaking. "…You're not weak."
It wasn't praise. It was evaluation.
Nero didn't respond immediately. "…I don't plan to be."
Donrius gave a short, approving grunt. "…Good."
Klay appeared without warning.
One moment, the space behind them was empty. The next, he was there, lean, quiet, with a dagger spinning idly between his fingers. His presence was subtle, but not unnoticed.
"You're slow to notice your surroundings," he said casually.
Nero turned sharply. "…And you're loud for someone trying to be quiet."
Klay's lips curved slightly. "…Not bad."
A sharp metallic click echoed lightly as Lomas adjusted the chamber of his gun.
He stood slightly apart from the others, his posture loose, almost careless. His coat hung unevenly, and the faint scent of alcohol lingered around him. Yet his eyes, despite their half-lidded appearance, were steady.
"…You two look like you'd panic under pressure," he muttered, raising the weapon slightly before lowering it again. "…Try not to."
Elliana's voice remained calm. "…We won't."
Lomas gave a quiet snort. "…We'll see."
Finally, Nole stepped forward.
The largest of them all, his presence was almost overwhelming. A thick chain wrapped around his arm, connected to a heavy hooked weapon that dragged lightly against the floor with each step. Despite his size, his movements were controlled, deliberate.
"You eat well?" he asked suddenly.
Nero blinked. "…What?"
Nole shrugged. "Fighting on an empty stomach gets you killed."
Elliana answered instead. "…We manage."
Nole gave a small nod. "…Good."
Silence settled briefly between the two groups.
Then Bastron spoke again.
"We're putting together a hunt," he said. "Not a small one. Not something you'll find on that board." He gestured slightly toward the mission wall without looking at it. "…Something bigger."
Nero's expression sharpened. "…What kind of hunt?"
Bastron's smile didn't fade—but something beneath it shifted, subtle and almost imperceptible.
"…The Black Death."
The name struck like a blade.
Nero's body tensed instantly, his hand tightening at his side. For a brief moment, the noise of the guild seemed to disappear entirely.
"…You're serious," he said quietly.
Jien tilted his head, watching his reaction with clear amusement. "Oh, we're very serious."
Sky's voice followed, calm as ever. "We've tracked its movements for some time now. This is the closest we've been to confirming its location."
Elliana glanced at Nero. She didn't need to ask what he was thinking.
"…Why us?" she asked instead.
Donrius answered this time. "Because you survive."
Klay added lightly, "And because you're just skilled enough to be useful."
Lomas chuckled under his breath. "…And expendable if needed."
Bastron shot him a brief glance, not reprimanding, but measured, before returning his attention to Nero.
"You want strength," he said. "You want recognition. You want to prove something."
His eyes locked onto Nero's.
"…This is your chance."
Nero didn't respond immediately.
His thoughts moved quickly, memories of his parents, the stories, the loss, the fire that had never fully faded.
Elliana stepped slightly closer to him. Not touching, but close enough.
"…We don't rush into something like this," she said calmly. "…Not without understanding the risk."
Sky nodded faintly. "Smart."
Bastron's smirk returned. "…We'll handle the risk. You just need to keep up."
Nero exhaled slowly.
"…If we do this," he said, "we do it together. No separate plays. No unnecessary risks."
Jien laughed. "Listen to him. Already giving conditions."
But Bastron didn't laugh.
"…Fine," he said simply.
A brief pause.
"…We move at dawn."
That night, the guild felt different.
The noise was still there, the movement unchanged, but for Nero and Elliana, something had shifted.
They sat in silence for a while before Nero finally spoke.
"…This is it."
Elliana didn't look at him. "…I know."
"…The Black Death…"
"…I know," she repeated.
He clenched his hand slightly. "…I can't let this slip."
Elliana turned to him then, her gaze steady, grounding.
"…Then don't," she said. "…But don't lose yourself chasing it either."
Nero let out a quiet breath. "…I won't."
A pause.
"…I'll protect you," he added, more quietly.
Elliana's expression softened—just slightly.
"…We protect each other," she corrected.
Nero nodded. "…Together."
"…Together."
Their eyes met, brief yet infinite, a single glance that carried years of shared struggles, silent trust, and emotions neither dared to name. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to pause, leaving a memory that would linger in their hearts for decades, a quiet understanding that bound them together, stronger than words could ever convey.
"Goodnight, Elliana."
"Goodnight, Nero."
---
The journey began before sunrise.
Virelith still slept beneath its canopy of floating lights when Nero and Elliana arrived at the eastern gate, cloaked in the dim blue haze of dawn. The streets were quieter than usual, emptied of merchants and crowded caravans, leaving only the hum of mana-lines beneath the stone roads and the occasional flicker of patrol automatons gliding silently past. Above them, the floating districts shimmered faintly against the fading stars, their great circular runes rotating in slow silence like watchful celestial eyes.
The Seven Snakes were already waiting.
Bastron stood at the front of the group, arms folded across his chest, his massive blade strapped to his back like an extension of his body. Jien leaned lazily against a pillar nearby, spinning an arrow between his fingers with practiced ease. Sky stood still as frost, pale hands hidden in her sleeves, while Donrius rested his axe against one shoulder as though it weighed no more than wood. Klay crouched atop a stone barrier, balanced like a bird, and Lomas sat on an overturned crate cleaning his firearm with sleepy indifference. Beside him, Nole calmly chewed dried meat, his hooked chain weapon coiled around one thick arm.
"You're on time," Bastron said as Nero and Elliana approached.
"We said we would be," Elliana answered.
Jien smirked. "That confidence is charming. Let's see if it survives the day."
Without further ceremony, the group departed.
They crossed the outer districts of Virelith quickly, passing beyond the final reinforced walls and into the untamed stretches beyond the capital's protection. The roads gave way to rough stone paths, then eventually to forest trails swallowed by ancient trees whose twisted roots rose from the ground like the bones of buried giants. The air changed as they advanced, thicker, heavier, charged with the unstable pulse of wild mana.
No one spoke much during the first hours. The silence between the Seven Snakes felt natural, almost rehearsed, each member moving with the easy rhythm of long familiarity. Nero observed them carefully. Their coordination was undeniable. Even in simple travel, they functioned like a single body split into seven parts.
At midday, they stopped beside the ruins of a collapsed stone watchtower overtaken by moss and roots. Nole lit a small fire and began cooking strips of seasoned meat over a portable mana flame. The smell filled the clearing.
To Nero's surprise, it was Nole who handed him the first plate.
"You'll need strength," the giant man said simply.
Nero accepted it with a quiet nod. "…Thanks."
Elliana sat beside him, accepting her own portion.
For a while, the tension eased.
Lomas passed a flask toward Nero. "Drink?"
Nero shook his head. "No."
Lomas shrugged and drank deeply himself. "Suit yourself."
Klay dropped silently from a tree branch above them, landing beside Elliana without sound.
"You really trust us that easily?" he asked, amused.
Elliana met his gaze without reaction. "Trust is earned."
"Then why come?"
"Because we need this mission."
Klay smiled faintly, then vanished back into the trees before either of them could reply.
Nero glanced after him. "…That man moves like smoke."
Sky, seated near the fire, spoke without lifting her eyes. "That is why he is still alive."
Jien laughed. "Barely."
Even Nero found himself relaxing. For a fleeting moment, the group almost felt genuine. Like comrades. Like allies bound by shared danger.
That moment lasted until nightfall.
By dusk, they had reached the mountain range known as the Hollow Teeth, jagged black peaks rising like shattered fangs into the sky. At their center yawned a canyon fissure wide enough to swallow a fortress. Strange mist poured from its depths, dark and slow-moving, unnatural in the still air.
Bastron stopped at the edge.
"This is where the Black Death nests," he said.
Nero stepped forward, eyes narrowing into the abyss. "…Down there?"
Bastron nodded. "The beast lairs beneath the old ruins buried below. Ancient catacombs from before the empire fell."
Elliana looked around carefully. "There are no signs of dragon movement."
"Because it sleeps deep," Sky answered. "And we are already late."
Nero exchanged a glance with Elliana. Something in her expression told him she felt it too, that quiet unease curling beneath the surface of reason.
Still, they descended.
The canyon walls narrowed as they went deeper, the light above shrinking into a thin line until only glowing mana crystals embedded in the rock illuminated their path. The deeper they traveled, the stranger the silence became. No insects. No wind. No beasts. Only footsteps and the slow dripping of unseen water somewhere in the dark.
Eventually, the passage opened into a vast subterranean chamber.
Ancient stone pillars rose into darkness overhead, carved with symbols Nero could not understand. At the center stood a circular platform etched with enormous black runes, still pulsing faintly with dormant energy. Chains hung from above like rusted veins, swaying though there was no breeze.
Nero stopped walking.
"…This isn't a dragon's nest."
No one answered immediately.
Then came laughter.
Low at first. Then louder.
Jien doubled over with open amusement, wiping tears from his eyes. Klay grinned openly. Lomas gave a tired chuckle from behind his flask. Even Donrius allowed himself a grim smile.
Elliana's hand moved instantly to her sword. "…What is this?"
Bastron turned slowly toward them. The warmth in his expression was gone. In its place was something colder—something stripped of pretense.
"The real mission," he said.
Nero's blood ran cold. "…What are you talking about?"
Sky stepped forward, her pale face unreadable. "You were never brought here to fight the Black Death."
Jien drew his bow in one fluid motion, arrow already aimed. "You were brought here to die."
The chamber trembled.
The black runes on the floor ignited all at once.
Dark light exploded upward around Nero and Elliana, forming a ring of energy that locked them inside the central platform.
Nero drew his sword instantly, crimson mana surging along its edge. "Elliana! Get behind me!"
She was already beside him, blade drawn, silver mana spiraling around her arms. "…I knew it."
Klay vanished from sight.
A second later Nero twisted just in time to block a strike from behind, sparks exploding as dagger met sword.
The battle began in chaos.
Donrius charged first, his axe crashing down with crushing force. Nero barely caught the blow, knees buckling under the impact. At the same moment Jien released three arrows of condensed mana, forcing Elliana to erect a shimmering barrier that cracked under the pressure.
Lomas fired from the rear, bullets screaming through the air with enchanted force. One tore through Nero's shoulder, spinning him sideways in pain.
"Nero!" Elliana shouted.
She lunged toward him, but Sky raised one hand.
A wave of blue-white force slammed into Elliana like a wall, hurling her backward across the platform.
Bastron entered last.
And when he moved, the entire chamber seemed to bend around his presence.
His great sword struck Nero head-on. The impact shattered the stone beneath Nero's feet and drove him to one knee. Blood spilled from Nero's mouth as he gasped against the crushing force.
"…Why?" Nero roared, forcing himself upright.
Bastron's face remained calm. "Because your lives are worth more dead than alive."
The runes beneath them flared brighter.
The chains hanging from the ceiling began to descend.
Darkness gathered above the altar like a storm forming in reverse.
Elliana rose again, wounded but defiant, blood trailing from her forehead as she lifted her blade beside Nero.
"Then we kill them first," she said coldly.
For the first time since entering the chamber, Bastron smiled.
"Try."
And from the darkness above them...
Something ancient began to awaken.
Above them, the darkness thickened until it ceased to resemble shadow at all. It became substance. Dense, alive, breathing with a pulse older than memory. The chamber shook as though the mountain itself recoiled from what it was forced to contain. The black runes carved into the altar floor blazed brighter, and the descending chains began to rattle violently, as if straining beneath the weight of something immeasurable.
Then the figure emerged.
At first, only pale strands appeared, long white hair descending through the void like threads of moonlight falling into an abyss. Then came the shape of a man, tall and impossibly still, his bare feet touching the altar without sound. His robes were woven from darkness itself, shifting and dissolving like smoke at the edges. His face was beautiful in a way that was deeply unnatural: calm, expressionless, untouched by mortal emotion. But it was his eyes that froze the blood in Nero's veins.
Entirely black.
Without whites, without pupils, like endless pits where light itself went to die.
Azeroz had arrived.
The dark god said nothing at first. He simply looked down at the chamber, his gaze sweeping over the Seven Snakes, over the trembling runes, over Nero and Elliana standing wounded but defiant at the center of the altar.
Then, in a voice colder than winter stone, he spoke.
"These are the last two offerings?"
Bastron dropped to one knee. The others followed instantly. Even Jien's arrogance vanished beneath the weight of that presence.
"Yes, Lord Azeroz," Bastron said. "Two swordmages. Fresh. Strong. Their souls are unbroken."
Azeroz's gaze settled on Nero.
Nero felt it like claws entering his chest. His breathing became uneven. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, yet his feet refused to move.
Elliana stepped closer beside him, gripping her sword tighter. Her knuckles were white with strain.
"…Nero," she whispered. "…Whatever happens...stay alive."
He turned sharply toward her. "…No. We leave together."
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. "…Still stubborn."
The Seven Snakes rose slowly, retreating beyond the altar's edge as the ritual circle expanded beneath Nero and Elliana's feet. Black tendrils of mana rose like smoke from the glowing symbols, curling around their ankles.
Nero swung his blade downward, severing several strands, but more replaced them instantly.
"What is this?!" he shouted.
Sky answered calmly from beyond the barrier, her expression unreadable.
"A divine contract. Your souls are being prepared."
Elliana's eyes widened."You sold us!"
Jien laughed openly now, his earlier charm stripped away completely. "Sold? No. Sacrificed. There's a difference."
Klay folded his arms, leaning against a pillar as though watching theater. "Honestly, you should be honored."
Lomas drank from his flask, then muttered with dry amusement, "…Most people die for nothing."
Donrius said nothing. He merely watched.
Nole avoided their eyes entirely.
Nero slammed both fists against the barrier of dark energy surrounding the altar. Crimson mana exploded outward, but the wall held firm.
"You bastards!"
Bastron stepped forward one last time, stopping just beyond the circle's edge.
His face held no guilt. No hesitation.
"The treasure Azeroz grants us will build kingdoms," he said evenly. "Your deaths purchase more than your lives ever could."
Nero lunged toward him with a roar, sword raised high...
But Azeroz lifted one finger.
The force struck instantly.
An invisible wave crushed Nero downward, driving him violently into the altar floor. Stone shattered beneath his body. His sword flew from his hand, skidding across the black runes. Blood filled his mouth.
Elliana screamed his name.
"Nero!"
She rushed toward him, but the tendrils rising from the altar surged upward and seized her first.
They wrapped around her wrists, waist, throat, pinning her in the air above the glowing circle.
Her sword fell from her hand and clattered uselessly to the stone.
"No!"
Nero forced himself upward, one arm trembling beneath him. "…Elliana!"
Azeroz finally moved.
He stepped closer to her suspended form, expression unchanged, black eyes fixed on her as though examining an object.
"This one fears death more deeply," he said in detached observation. "…Interesting."
Elliana struggled desperately, her breathing breaking into panicked gasps as the tendrils tightened around her body. Dark mana began entering through her skin like poison sinking into veins.
Her face twisted in agony.
"N-Nero…!"
He dragged himself toward her, fingers clawing broken stone.
"Let her go!"
Azeroz ignored him.
The dark tendrils pierced deeper.
Elliana cried out, a sound so raw, so filled with terror, it tore through Nero more brutally than any wound.
"I don't want to die!" she screamed, tears spilling freely now. "Please—please, Nero—I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
Nero's entire body shook.
He rose to his feet through sheer will alone, blood pouring from his wounds, crimson mana erupting wildly around him in unstable bursts.
"You'll have to kill me first!" he roared.
He charged Azeroz head-on.
For the first time, the dark god turned fully toward him.
Nero's blade struck...
And shattered.
The sword exploded into fragments against Azeroz's outstretched palm.
The backlash hurled Nero backward across the altar, crashing into one of the ancient pillars with bone-breaking force.
He collapsed to his knees, coughing blood, vision blurring.
Still, he forced his eyes upward.
Elliana's cries had weakened into trembling sobs.
Her body convulsed as the ritual consumed her life force. Her violet eyes searched desperately for Nero, and found him.
Their gazes locked.
In that moment, all fear in her face faded.
Only sorrow remained.
"…Nero…" she whispered weakly. "…I...love…"
His voice broke completely.
"ELLIANA!"
The tendrils tightened one final time.
And then...
Silence.
Elliana's body went limp.
The light left her eyes.
Her head fell forward.
The chamber became still.
Nero stared at her lifeless body, unable to breathe, unable to think.
Something inside him broke.
Not loudly.
Not violently.
But completely.
Then he screamed.
A scream so filled with grief and rage that even the chamber walls trembled beneath it.
"I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU, AZEROZ!"
And Azeroz… smiled.
Because Nero's sacrifice had only just begun.
Nero's scream did not end quickly. It tore from him in waves, ragged, broken, inhuman, until even his own voice seemed to collapse beneath the weight of it. The sound struck the walls of the chamber and rose into the darkness above like a curse hurled at the heavens themselves.
Elliana's body still hung suspended above the altar, limp in the writhing black tendrils, her silver hair falling over her face like a veil. The faint violet aura that had always shimmered around her had vanished completely.
Nero could not look away.
His chest rose and fell in violent, uneven breaths. Blood streamed from his mouth and wounds, staining the shattered stone beneath him, but the agony in his flesh was nothing beside the unbearable emptiness tearing through his heart.
He had failed.
He had promised her.
And he had failed.
The Seven Snakes stood beyond the ritual circle in silence, watching him.
Even Jien's mocking grin had faded. Klay's amusement was gone. Lomas lowered his flask, his tired eyes narrowed. Donrius remained like a stone pillar, silent and unreadable. Sky's face showed no emotion, though her gaze lingered on Nero with detached calm. Bastron alone stepped forward, composed and steady, as though what had happened were no more than the successful completion of a transaction.
Azeroz lifted one pale hand.
The altar shook.
From the black stone floor behind the Seven Snakes, darkness swelled upward like liquid shadow erupting from underground springs. The chamber groaned as seven towering mounds of treasure rose from beneath the earth, mountains of gold coins, silver relics, jeweled crowns, enchanted weapons, crystal cores pulsing with mana, ancient artifacts wrapped in divine black mist. The riches spilled outward across the floor in glittering cascades, illuminated by the crimson glow of the altar runes.
The Seven Snakes stared in awe.
Jien let out a breathless laugh. "…By the gods!"
Klay stepped toward one mound, lifting a gemstone the size of his fist, its blue fire reflecting in his eyes. "…So it's true."
Lomas gave a low whistle and crouched beside a chest overflowing with gold. "…That's enough to buy kingdoms."
Donrius grunted in approval as he hefted a glowing war axe forged from obsidian steel.
Nole said nothing, but even his usually unreadable face tightened with astonishment.
Sky examined a silver staff wrapped in black runes, her expression cool, though her eyes gleamed faintly.
Bastron turned toward Azeroz and lowered his head respectfully.
"The payment is accepted."
Azeroz's voice was cold and indifferent.
"You have delivered worthy offerings. Take your reward and leave."
Then Jien looked back toward Nero, and laughed again.
"Damn," he sneered. "Still breathing after all that?"
Klay smirked. "Not for long."
Lomas raised his flask mockingly toward Nero. "…To your sacrifice."
Sky gave Nero one last unreadable glance before turning away. "Nothing personal, Nero."
Bastron met Nero's shattered gaze one final time.
There was no pity there. No remorse. Only certainty.
"You should have stayed in Oreh," he said coldly. "This world was never meant for someone naive like you."
Nero's fingers clawed weakly at the stone floor as they turned their backs on him.
"Bastron…" he rasped, voice breaking with hatred. "You will all pay for this..."
But none of them stopped and paid their attention to him.
The Seven Snakes gathered their treasures as Azeroz opened a towering gate of swirling darkness behind them. Gold floated upward into the void, drawn by unseen force. One by one, they crossed through the portal, their laughter echoing in the chamber as they vanished into shadow.
The gate sealed shut behind them.
And then there was silence.
Only Nero.
Only Elliana's corpse suspended above him.
Only Azeroz.
The dark god stepped closer. His bare feet touched the altar without sound, darkness coiling around him like living smoke.
"Grief," Azeroz said calmly, observing Nero as though he were an experiment. "One of the purest forms of devotion."
Nero's trembling fists clenched. Tears mixed with blood across his face.
"…Give her back."
Azeroz tilted his head.
"You command a god? Quite the tongue you have for an ant like you."
Nero forced himself upright. His legs shook violently beneath him, but rage alone held him standing.
"I said…" His voice cracked. "…Give her back!"
Crimson mana erupted wildly around him. The altar trembled. Ancient runes flickered unstable beneath his feet.
Azeroz narrowed his black eyes with sudden interest.
"…Even now, you resist despair."
Nero lunged forward with nothing but bare hands.
"Fall."
Dark tendrils exploded upward from the altar floor like spears, piercing Nero through chest, arms, abdomen, and legs in a spray of blood. His body froze mid-step, then was lifted into the air beside Elliana.
"NO!" he roared.
The tendrils tightened, reaching deeper—not into flesh, but soul.
A colossal black vortex split open above.
"Your soul belongs to me," Azeroz declared.
Nero felt himself torn free. His body collapsed lifelessly onto the altar floor.
For one moment, Nero saw his corpse below. Elliana dead beside him. Azeroz towering over both.
Then something impossible happened.
Azeroz frowned.
Nero's soul refused to yield.
It burned crimson.
Memories burst through him like fire.
Elliana laughing in Oreh.
Training beneath Garrick.
Her voice by campfires.
Her trembling final words.
I love you.
And Nero roared, not with flesh, but soul itself.
A crimson explosion shattered the vortex. Tendrils were blasted apart.
Azeroz staggered back one step.
Nero's soul plunged back into his corpse.
His body convulsed.
Then his eyes snapped open. Crimson. Burning crimson.
A violent divine shockwave erupted outward. His dark hair turned white strand by strand, becoming radiant silver-white. Ancient crimson tattoos spread across his skin like living fire, winding over arms, chest, neck, and face in divine patterns older than language.
Nero rose slowly from the altar.
Blood still covered him. His wounds remained.
But something ancient now lived inside him.
Something terrifying.
He looked at his trembling hands, then at the glowing tattoos racing beneath his skin. His voice came low and broken.
"…What happened to me?"
Azeroz stood still, his black eyes fixed on Nero.
Then, for the first time, the dark god smiled faintly.
"You evolved."
Before Nero could answer, grief overtook reason. He looked up once more at Elliana's lifeless body, and exploded forward in fury.
"AZEROZ!"
With a roar that shook the chamber, Nero launched himself at Azeroz like a crimson comet.
His fist struck first. Enhanced by divine mana, powerful enough to shatter mountains.
But the instant it reached Azeroz...
A black transparent barrier ignited around the god.
BOOM.
The impact detonated through the chamber like thunder. Pillars cracked. The altar split further. Waves of force ripped across the stone floor.
Yet Azeroz did not move.
His invincible shield shimmered around him like a sphere of black glass.
Nero attacked again.
And again.
And again.
His fists became blurs of crimson light. Each strike landed with catastrophic force, shockwaves exploding outward, stone reduced to dust, the ceiling raining debris. He formed blades of condensed mana in both hands and slashed in crossing arcs powerful enough to cleave fortresses apart.
The chamber became a storm of red and black energy.
Nero leapt high into the darkness above, gathering a massive sphere of crimson divine fire into his palms.
"AZEROZ!" he roared.
He hurled it downward like a falling star.
The impact swallowed the entire altar in blinding red annihilation.
The explosion split the chamber walls and sent molten cracks racing through the mountain itself.
Silence followed.
Smoke and shattered stone filled the air.
Nero landed hard, breathing heavily, crimson energy flickering wildly around him.
Then the smoke parted.
Azeroz stood untouched.
The black shield around him remained flawless, not even scratched.
The dark god lowered one hand calmly, as though brushing dust from air.
"…Magnificent," he said softly. "To strike a god with such force moments after rebirth."
Nero dropped to one knee, exhausted, fists trembling violently.
"…Why… can't I break it?" he gasped.
Azeroz stepped closer, shield fading into shadow around him.
"Because your evolution is incomplete," he said. "You possess divine awakening, but not divine mastery."
Nero glared upward, crimson tears burning down his face.
"Divinity...," Nero stopped. "Is it possible for my power to save her?"
Azeroz looked toward Elliana's body, then back to Nero.
"I cannot answer that. However...I can. But there is a price."
Darkness spiraled around the god like a living storm.
"Bring me seven worthy souls for my feast…"
His black eyes gleamed.
"And I shall return her life."
Nero understood instantly whose souls he meant.
The Seven Snakes.
The traitors.
The ones who sold Elliana's life for wealth.
Nero slowly rose, crimson eyes burning brighter than flame.
"I accept.", he spoke, full of determination and conviction.
And in that moment...
Vengeance was born.
Azeroz's words lingered in the ruined chamber like a decree etched into fate itself.
"Bring me seven worthy souls… and I shall return her life."
Darkness spiraled upward around him in silent coils, gathering near the fractured ceiling like storm clouds obeying a divine will. The shattered altar still pulsed with broken crimson light, its cracked runes flickering like dying embers beneath Nero's feet.
Nero stood motionless beneath Elliana's suspended body, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. Blood still ran from his wounds, staining the stone below, while the crimson tattoos across his skin glowed like molten veins beneath pale flesh. His white hair, newly transformed by divine rebirth, clung damply to his face and shoulders.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes toward Elliana.
She hung motionless in the writhing black tendrils, her silver hair drifting softly like moonlight trapped underwater. Her expression was still...too still. Peaceful in a way that made her death feel even crueler.
Nero stepped toward her.
Then another step.
His trembling hand reached upward until his fingers touched hers.
Cold.
No warmth. No life.
The truth of it broke through every wall he had left inside himself.
His knees gave way.
He collapsed at the foot of the altar, clutching her limp hand in both of his, pressing it desperately against his forehead as tears streamed down his face.
"…Elliana…"
His voice shattered into grief.
"…I said I would protect you."
His shoulders shook violently.
"I promised you. Yet I failed miserably."
The chamber answered only with silence.
Even Azeroz did not interrupt.
For a long time Nero remained there, broken beneath the body of the one person he could not save.
Then at last, he lifted his head.
The tears still fell.
But something else had entered his gaze now.
Sorrow remained.
Yet beside it burned something colder. Harder. Sharper.
Resolve.
Nero rose slowly and turned toward Azeroz.
"If I bring them to you…" he said, voice raw and trembling, "…if I bring you seven souls…"
Azeroz regarded him with unreadable calm, his black eyes like endless voids swallowing light.
"Then her life shall be restored."
Nero clenched his fists. Crimson sparks danced between his fingers.
"And if you lie?"
For the first time, something faintly resembling amusement touched Azeroz's face.
"I am many things, mortal," he said. "A liar is not one of them."
Nero stared at him in silence for several seconds.
Then he asked the question burning inside him since his rebirth.
"…What am I now?"
Azeroz stepped closer, his robes dissolving and reforming at the edges like living shadow.
"You are no longer wholly human," he said. "Your soul crossed death's threshold and returned stronger. Few beings in existence have ever done so."
Nero lowered his eyes to the glowing crimson markings spiraling across his arms.
"They burn," he said quietly.
"They are the marks of the Crimson Revenant," Azeroz replied. "A vessel reborn through divine defiance. Your body now channels power drawn from the boundary between life and death."
Nero flexed his trembling hands. The energy within him surged like an unstable storm.
Then he looked up sharply.
"…And your shield," he said bitterly. "…That black barrier. Why could I not break it?"
Azeroz's expression did not change.
Instead of answering directly, he lifted one pale hand. For an instant, the black sphere of invincible darkness shimmered around him again, the same abyssal barrier Nero had struck with everything he had and failed to scratch.
Nero stared at it, jaw tight.
"What is it?" he demanded. "How does it work?"
Azeroz let the shield vanish into shadow.
Then he gave a faint, cold smile.
"I am not a fool," he said calmly, "who gives away his cards for free."
Nero's crimson eyes narrowed.
Azeroz stepped closer still, his gaze unblinking.
"Power without struggle is wasted. If you wish to understand divine strength, earn it."
The answer stung, but Nero said nothing.
Because he knew Azeroz was right.
Suddenly, the black tendrils binding Elliana began to descend. Slowly, reverently, they lowered her lifeless form toward the altar floor.
Nero rushed forward and caught her before she touched stone.
He cradled her gently in his arms, trembling as he knelt with her against his chest.
Azeroz extended one hand toward them both.
Darkness gathered beneath Elliana's body, forming a circular pool of black crystal beneath her. The surface hardened into a coffin-like pedestal of translucent obsidian glass, preserving her form beneath its gleaming surface. Her face remained visible, peaceful and untouched, as though sleeping beneath moonlit water.
"She will remain preserved in my chamber," Azeroz said. "Untouched by decay until your task is complete."
Nero laid her inside with agonizing care, brushing one silver strand of hair from her face. His hand lingered against the crystal.
"…Wait for me, Elliana" he whispered. "…I'll confess my feelings to you, after I finish those traitors off."
He then kisses her in the forehead.
The obsidian tomb sealed shut in silence.
Nero remained kneeling beside it for several moments, head lowered.
When he finally rose, his grief had hardened into something sharper than sorrow.
Purpose.
Azeroz turned away, white hair flowing like pale flame in darkness.
"I shall await for your return," he said. "I'll expect of your success in your task, revenant"
Nero's crimson eyes flared.
"Where are they now?"
Azeroz raised one hand.
Black mist rose before them, shaping itself into a vision, a ruined fortress hidden among jagged northern cliffs beneath constant thunderclouds. Its towers leaned like broken teeth over a frozen ravine.
"Blackthorn Keep," Azeroz said. "Their first gathering place."
Within the mist, Bastron appeared briefly, laughing beside mountains of gold, unaware of what had been born behind him.
Nero's fist clenched until blood ran from his palm.
"They laughed," he said quietly.
Azeroz said nothing.
Nero's voice became colder.
"They laughed while she died."
Crimson mana exploded outward from him, cracking the altar floor beneath his feet. The chamber trembled in response to his rage.
Azeroz watched in silence, then gave a slight nod of approval.
"Yes," he said. "Hold onto that hatred. Hate is the fuel for your power, the more you hate, the more you grow stronger."
Nero turned once more toward Elliana's crystal tomb.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then softly, almost too softly to hear....
"I'll be back, Elliana."
Azeroz extended his hand toward the shattered chamber wall.
A gate of swirling darkness opened before them, revealing a storm-ridden mountain trail beneath a blood-red moon.
The road to vengeance had begun.
And Nero, reborn through death itself, took his first step into the abyss and the beginning of his mission for revenge.
End of Prologue