Two Years Later.
The boy who had once trained beneath the watchful eyes of Dragon Tempest was gone.
Now eighteen years old, Justus Xavier Tempest stood at the cliff edge of Dragon Island, gazing out toward the endless, open sea.
His body had transformed.
He was taller now—lean, grounded, and heavily conditioned by two years of relentless, brutal training.
His dark hair fell loosely around his face, dancing in the salt-laced ocean wind.
Reaching down, he tightened the leather straps of the small pack hanging over his shoulder.
Behind him stood the massive gates of Dragon’s residence.
He had lived there his entire life.
It was the only home he had ever known.
Dragon stood several meters behind him, broad arms folded tightly over his massive chest.
“So, you’re leaving.”
Justus didn’t turn around right away.
He simply stared at the waves crashing against the rocks below.
“I want to see the world,” Justus replied, nodding softly.
Dragon raised a single gray eyebrow.
“That’s all?”
Justus looked toward the distant horizon, his striking crimson eyes hardening with absolute, unbroken resolve.
“No.
I want to become stronger.”
He paused, his voice dropping an octave.
“Strong enough to defeat the Four Lords.”
For the first time in two years, the laid-back humor vanished completely from Dragon’s face.
His expression became deadly serious.
“You intend to defeat all four?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Justus didn’t answer immediately.
He looked down at his own hands.
Raising his right palm, a faint, gentle aura of spiritual energy hovered around his fingers—pure Light.
Then, for a fraction of a second, it flickered into a cold, terrifying Darkness before both forces vanished entirely.
“I don’t know yet,” Justus admitted, gripping the hilt of his new steel sword.
“But I’ll find out.”
A quiet, approving smile slowly appeared on Dragon’s battle-worn face.
“You’ve grown.”
Justus finally turned toward him, offering a faint, confident smirk.
“Thanks for everything, old man.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Dragon grunted, turning his back to the boy so he wouldn’t see his face.
“The world out there isn’t like this island.”
Justus smiled one last time.
He turned, stepped off the cliff path, and walked down toward the small ship waiting at the harbor.
He didn’t turn around—not once.
Dragon stood at the edge of the cliff, watching in complete silence as the small vessel set sail, slowly shrinking into a tiny dot before disappearing beyond the horizon.
I hope the world is ready for you, kid, Dragon thought quietly to himself.
Three Months Later.
THWACK!
A fresh newspaper landed heavily on the mahogany desk of a senior Guardian officer.
The officer picked it up casually, taking a sip of his morning coffee.
But as his eyes scanned the front page, his jaw dropped, and he nearly choked.
“Who the hell is this?!” Officer A shouted, slamming his hand on the desk.
His subordinate leaned over his shoulder to look.
Featured prominently on the front cover was a photograph of a young man sitting casually among the burning, shattered ruins of a destroyed military fortress.
His expression was utterly indifferent to the utter chaos surrounding him.
Above the photo, bold black ink screamed across the page:
=====================================================
MYSTERIOUS YOUNG MAN DESTROYS
GUARDIAN OUTPOST
=====================================================
NAME: Justus Xavier Tempest
AGE: 18
KNOWN AFFILIATION: None
ORIGIN: Unknown
SPIRITUAL PATH: Unknown
THREAT LEVEL: High
BOUNTY: 80,000,000 GOLD CROWNS
=====================================================
“Eighty million gold?!” Officer A gasped, his hands trembling as he stared at the numbers.
“For a nobody?!”
“He defeated thirty-seven armed Guardians single-handedly,” Officer B confirmed with a nervous, uneasy nod.
“Thirty-seven?!”
“And…
apparently…” Officer B hesitated, swallowing hard.
“What?
Speak up!”
“He didn’t kill a single one of them.”
Officer A frowned deeply, his eyes scanning the detailed report.
“Then why destroy an entire frontline outpost?”
The subordinate shrugged helplessly.
“Official reports say…
our men attacked him first.”
Silence fell over the office.
Officer A looked back at the photograph.
The young man’s face was eerily calm.
No boastful grin, no wild rage—nothing.
Just striking crimson eyes staring cold and unbothered through the camera lens.
“Where did he come from?” Officer A muttered.
“No idea.”
“Who does he work for?”
“Apparently…
no one.”
The officer slowly set the newspaper back down on his desk, staring at the name again.
“Then why does he bear the name Tempest?”
Far out at sea, aboard a small vessel cutting smoothly through the ocean waves, Justus sat alone at the bow.
He had no idea that his name was currently sending shockwaves through the entire Guardian hierarchy.
He simply sat with his boots kicked up, staring at a crumpled piece of paper in his hands.
Written on it were four names:
* Dragon Tempest
* Darius Eamon
* King
* Queen
(The Four Lords of the Underworld)
A sharp, confident smirk spread across Justus’ face as he folded the list and tucked it safely inside his coat.
“One day…” he whispered to the open sea.
“Just wait.”