A young man was chasing a giant bull-like creature.
It stood nearly ten feet tall, with an enormous predator-like body covered in thick, dark hide and three massive horns protruding from its head.
It was a Dreadhorn.
A creature feared by most hunters who encountered one.
Yet right now, the Dreadhorn wasn’t hunting.
It was running.
Running for its life.
Because behind it was something far more terrifying than itself.
A young man.
He was already covered in the blood and remains of countless beasts.
Hundreds, perhaps.
His black hair was carefully styled despite the chaos surrounding him, as if the hunt itself wasn’t enough of a reason to ruin his appearance.
A sword case was fastened around his waist, and in his hand was a relatively short sword.
It wasn’t particularly large.
It didn’t need to be.
Its blade was exceptionally sharp.
The young man stood around six feet tall, his white skin stained with the blood of the creatures he’d already hunted.
He wore dark hunter’s clothing suited for movement—a fitted black coat reaching just below his waist, reinforced leather across his shoulders and forearms, dark trousers tucked into sturdy hunting boots, and several small pouches attached to his belt.
His clothing was practical.
His appearance was anything but ordinary.
He was handsome.
Strikingly so.
His features were sharp and refined, his posture relaxed, and his expression almost pleasant.
Yet there was something deeply unsettling about him.
Something in his eyes.
Something about the way he smiled.
He looked like the kind of person who could walk into a peaceful town and be mistaken for a nobleman.
Until he smiled.
Then he looked like a character from someone’s worst nightmare.
The Dreadhorn knew that better than anyone.
It had been running for its life for several minutes.
Its body was already badly wounded, and every step was becoming harder.
But it couldn’t stop.
It had to survive.
Behind it— the young man continued his pursuit.
His speed was absurd.
The distance between them disappeared almost effortlessly.
The Dreadhorn desperately pushed itself forward.
Then it saw something.
Its home.
A large cave entrance appeared ahead.
Its eyes widened.
It was almost there.
It stumbled forward.
Inside the cave, a female Dreadhorn emerged.
She froze when she saw the condition of her mate.
Behind her legs, two small Dreadhorns cautiously peeked out.
The female didn’t want to leave the cave.
Fear was written across her face.
But she couldn’t abandon her children.
The male Dreadhorn lowered its head.
Something was hanging from its mouth.
Food.
He had been carrying it back for his family.
He had been trying to return home.
The young man finally stopped.
He looked at the scene before him.
The female.
The two younglings.
The wounded male.
For a brief moment, everything was silent.
The male Dreadhorn looked at him.
There was fear in its eyes.
But there was also something else.
It had been running because it wanted to live.
Not for itself.
For them.
The young man simply stared.
His expression didn’t change.
Not even slightly.
He looked down at the wounded Dreadhorn.
Then at the family behind it.
The male Dreadhorn lowered its head.
The young man raised his sword.
There was no hesitation.
One swift movement.
The Dreadhorn fell.
The female recoiled in fear as the two younglings pressed themselves against her.
The young man stood silently.
The female stared at him.
Fear filled her eyes.
But beneath that fear was anger.
She wanted to attack.
She wanted revenge.
But then she looked behind herself.
Her children.
She couldn’t risk them.
So she slowly stepped backward.
The young man watched her.
His expression remained completely unchanged.
He took a step forward.
The female flinched.
The younglings hid further behind her.
The young man raised his sword again.
Then— “Enough.” The voice came from behind him.
The young man stopped.
The voice had come from nearly a hundred meters away.
He slowly turned his head.
Standing among the trees was a wolf.
Its fur was a strange mixture of pale white and black, flowing almost like hair beneath the faint light of the forest.
Its crimson eyes carried a dark, almost black tint.
The wolf stared calmly at the young man.
“You’ve completed your test.” A pause.
“You successfully killed one thousand beasts.” The young man looked at the wolf.
Then he glanced at the Dreadhorn family one last time.
A small smirk appeared on his face.
“Oh.” He lowered his sword.
“Thanks for telling me.” He turned toward the Dreadhorns.
His expression remained calm.
His voice, however, carried an almost sinister gentleness.
“Bye, friends.” The female Dreadhorn stared at him.
The young man turned around.
In the next instant— he moved.
His figure disappeared from where he had been standing.
Within a single second, he crossed the entire distance between himself and the wolf.
He stopped beside it.
“So, shall we go now?” He paused.
Then looked at the wolf.
“Veyr.” The wolf stared at him for a moment.
Then replied calmly.
“Yeah.” The young man smiled.
“Veyr.” The wolf’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
“Yeah, Arix.” Ten years had passed.
Arix was now seventeen.
— The forest looked almost the same.
That was the strange part.
The trees were still there.
The rivers still flowed through the valleys.
The mountains still stood beyond the horizon.
But Arix had changed.
The boy who had once struggled to understand the basics of Mana and Aura was gone.
The young man walking through the forest beside Veyr carried himself differently.
He no longer looked at the world with childish curiosity.
His eyes constantly observed.
His surroundings.
The wind.
The trees.
The tracks beneath his feet.
Every sound.
Every movement.
Nothing escaped his attention for long.
Veyr glanced at him.
“You took comparatively little time to complete the test.” Arix looked at him.
“Huh?” “The test.” “I thought it took long enough.” Veyr continued walking.
“Do you think killing one thousand beasts in twelve and a half days is long?” Arix gave a small smirk.
“Not really.” Veyr said nothing.
Arix’s smirk widened slightly.
“So I was faster than expected.” “Considerably.” Arix looked ahead.
“Then why did you make the test so long?” “To see whether you would become careless.” “And?” “You didn’t.” Arix nodded.
“Good.” They continued walking.
After several minutes, Arix spoke again.
“So what’s my rank?” Veyr glanced at him.
“B+.” Arix looked mildly disappointed.
“Only B+?” “Only?” Arix shrugged.
“I thought it would be higher.” “You’ve spent most of your life isolated in a forest.” “And?” “You lack experience against powerful opponents.” Arix smiled.
“Then I’ll get some.” Veyr looked forward again.
“That’s the answer I expected.” They eventually reached the house.
It was still standing.
Arix pushed open the door and entered.
Nothing about the place had changed much.
It was simple.
A table.
Several chairs.
A small kitchen.
A few shelves.
The same quiet atmosphere.
Arix dropped into a chair.
Veyr sat opposite him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Arix noticed Veyr staring at him.
“What?” “You’ve changed.” Arix leaned back.
“Obviously.” “Not just physically.” Arix raised an eyebrow.
“You’re being unusually vague.” “Your control over Aura has improved significantly.” Arix looked at his hand.
A thin layer of Aura appeared around his fingers.
It moved smoothly.
Precisely.
Almost naturally.
He had also become more aware of the strange sensation that sometimes stirred within him.
It was faint and difficult to understand, but after years of training, he had learned to sense and guide it slightly better than before.
“You’ve also become faster,” Veyr continued.
Arix smirked.
“I noticed.” “Your reactions are better.” “I noticed that too.” “Your instincts are sharper.” Arix looked at him.
“You’re complimenting me too much.” “I haven’t started yet.” Arix laughed quietly.
Veyr continued.
“Your swordsmanship has improved.
Your physical strength has improved.
Your control over your energy has improved.” Arix rested his chin against his hand.
“And?” Veyr looked directly at him.
“Your personality changed the most.” Arix was silent.
Then he smiled.
“Did it?” “Yes.” “How?” Veyr didn’t answer immediately.
“You’ll find out.” Arix rolled his eyes.
“You still do that.” “Do what?” “Give useless answers.” “They aren’t useless.” “They’re annoying.” Veyr ignored him.
Then his expression became slightly more serious.
“There is something else you need to know.” Arix sat upright.
“What?” “A lot has changed.” Arix frowned.
“While I was here?” “Yes.” “How much?” Veyr looked at him.
“You probably don’t know any of it.” Arix thought about it.
That was probably true.
He had spent ten years almost completely isolated.
He had trained.
Hunted.
Learned.
Survived.
But he hadn’t traveled.
He hadn’t visited cities.
He hadn’t spoken to nobles.
He hadn’t seen other continents.
He had barely seen another human being.
“So,” Arix said, “tell me.” Veyr nodded.
“The empire has changed.” Arix’s expression hardened slightly.
“The empire?” “Yes.” “It still exists?” “It does.” Veyr leaned back.
“And it has become much larger.” “How large?” “It controls the entire Human Continent.” Arix’s eyes narrowed.
“The entire continent?” “Yes.” “The empire conquered all of it?” Veyr nodded.
“It is no longer referred to simply as an empire.” A pause.
“It is now known as the Great Empire of Valtheris.” Arix repeated the name quietly.
“Valtheris…” “It is the largest human civilization in history.” Arix leaned back.
“Interesting.” “But humans aren’t the only ones who changed.” Veyr continued.
“The world has eight major continents.” Arix looked at him.
“Eight?” “Six are dominated by the major races.” “Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Beastfolk, Demons and Siphons.” Arix nodded slowly.
Veyr continued.
“The Human Continent belongs to Valtheris.” “The Elf Continent belongs to the Elves.” “The Dwarf Continent belongs to the Dwarves.” “The Beastfolk control their own continent.” “And the Demon Continent?” “Mostly demons.” Arix smirked.
“Mostly?” “Demons aren’t a single race.” Veyr’s explanation continued.
“They are a collection of different races.
Vampires, True Blood Demons, Minotaurs, Centaurs, hybrids and many others.” Arix’s expression became more interested.
“Hybrids?” “Some bloodlines can combine.” “Interesting.” “The True Blood Demons currently rule roughly sixty percent of the Demon Continent.” “And the rest?” “Much of it belongs to the Vampires.” Arix raised an eyebrow.
“Then why haven’t the True Blood Demons conquered them?” Veyr looked at him.
“Because the Vampires don’t care enough.” Arix blinked.
“They don’t?” “They prefer darkness.
Their territories are built around it.
They have little interest in controlling land they don’t need.” Veyr paused.
“Don’t mistake that for weakness.” Arix’s smile disappeared.
“They’re that strong?” “If the Vampires truly decided to expand, they could potentially conquer two or three continents.” Arix leaned back.
“Now that’s interesting.” “They are feared for their abilities, their control over darkness, their bloodline abilities and their longevity.” Arix nodded.
“Sounds troublesome.” “They are.” Veyr then continued.
“The Elves are different.” Arix listened.
“They possess the highest natural affinity for Spirit Energy among the major races.” Arix’s eyes narrowed.
“How high?” “Higher than yours.” “I assumed that.” “Their civilization is deeply connected to Spirit Energy, nature and ancient magic.” Veyr moved on.
“The Dwarves are masters of craftsmanship.
Weapons, armor, artifacts, magical machinery.
If something can be forged, engineered or enhanced, they are among the best in the world.” “The Beastfolk are divided into countless races, tribes and kingdoms.
Their physical abilities vary greatly depending on their bloodlines.” “And the Siphons?” Veyr paused.
For the first time, his expression carried something resembling caution.
“The Siphons are dangerous.” Arix smiled.
“Finally.” “They possess an unusually powerful arsenal of abilities.” “How unusual?” “Their Spirit Energy affinity is approximately one in twenty-five thousand.” Arix’s eyebrows rose.
“That’s higher than the normal one in thirty thousand.” “Second highest among the major races.” “After the Elves.” “Yes.” Veyr continued.
“They also possess a natural racial ability.” “Which is?” “Telekinesis.” Arix’s eyes sharpened.
“And that’s not all.” Veyr looked directly at him.
“Their Aura affinity is the highest known among the races.” “How high?” “One in five.” Arix went silent.
“One in five?” “Yes.” “That is absurd.” “It is.” “They really are that dangerous?” “They are considered absolute masters of weaponry.” Arix smiled.
“Now I want to meet one.” Veyr gave him a strange look.
“I expected you to say that.” Arix leaned back.
“So six continents are divided between the major races.” “Correct.” “And the other two?” Veyr’s expression became serious.
“One is called the Replica of the Abyss.” Arix’s smile faded.
“The Abyss?” “It is a continent filled with beasts.” “Strong ones?” “Extremely.” “How dangerous?” Veyr looked at him.
“The strongest individuals of every major race once came together to seal it.” Arix’s eyes narrowed.
“And they were?” “Grand Masters.” Silence.
Arix finally spoke.
“All of them?” “Yes.” “Then what’s inside?” “Enough to destroy the world if the seal were completely broken.” Arix’s expression became thoughtful.
“And people still go there?” “Some.” “Why?” “Greed.” Arix laughed quietly.
“Of course.” “They enter through teleportation methods, retrieve resources, treasures or other valuable materials, and leave.” “And if something goes wrong?” “They die.” Arix shrugged.
“Sounds like their problem.” Veyr looked at him.
“Exactly.” Then he continued.
“The final continent is different.” “How?” “There is nothing there.” Arix frowned.
“Nothing?” “No life.
No plants.
No animals.
No civilization.” “Why?” “We don’t know.” Arix stared at him.
“Then why hasn’t someone explored it?” “They have.” “And?” “Anyone who remains there long enough begins to decay.” Arix’s eyes narrowed.
“Decay?” “Yes.” “How long?” “Unknown.” Arix leaned back.
“And what’s causing it?” Veyr looked toward the window.
“Something hidden there.” Arix waited.
Veyr didn’t continue.
Arix sighed.
“You’re doing it again.” “Doing what?” “Keeping secrets.” Veyr smiled faintly.
“You’ll discover some of them yourself.” Arix looked away.
Outside, the forest was quiet.
After a moment, he asked: “And the oceans?” “Seven.” “Seven oceans.” “Yes.” Arix smiled.
“So the world became much larger while I was sitting in this forest.” “You always knew the world was large.” “I knew.” Arix stood.
“But knowing isn’t the same as seeing.” Veyr looked at him.
Arix walked toward the door.
“I want to see it.” “You will.” Arix stopped.
He looked back.
“For how long?” Veyr’s eyes met his.
“Until you find what you’re looking for.” Arix smiled.
“And if I don’t know what I’m looking for?” “Then you’ll have to discover that first.” Arix laughed softly.
He opened the door.
The evening air entered the room.
He stood there for a moment.
Ten years.
Ten years of training.
Ten years of isolation.
Ten years of becoming something different.
And now— the world was waiting.
Arix stepped outside.
Veyr remained seated.
Arix suddenly stopped.
“Veyr.” “Yes?” “When was the last time you fought me seriously?” Veyr looked at him.
A brief silence followed.
“It’s been a long time.” Arix’s smile slowly widened.
“Then maybe we should fix that.” Veyr’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
Arix noticed.
The two stared at each other.
Neither moved.
The atmosphere in the room suddenly felt different.
Heavier.
Arix’s hand rested casually near the sword at his waist.
Veyr’s crimson eyes remained fixed on him.
For ten years, Arix had trained under him.
For ten years, Veyr had watched him grow.
But there was one thing Arix had never truly experienced.
A real fight against Veyr.
Arix smiled.
“So?” Veyr slowly stood.
“Tomorrow.” Arix’s eyes lit up.
“Tomorrow?” Veyr walked toward the door.
“Yes.” Arix’s smile became a smirk.
“Finally.” Veyr stepped outside.
Arix followed.
Neither of them said anything else.
But for the first time in ten years— the distance between teacher and student felt very small.
And somewhere beneath the quiet evening sky, two warriors were already preparing for what would come next.
Tomorrow— they would fight.