With the first light of dawn, Alythion awoke to the cold morning breeze slipping into his tent. The air was filled with the scent of damp earth and flowing water, mixed with a faint trace of ash from last night's fire. He slowly opened his eyes, sensing the strange calm that had settled over the place after the stormy events of just a few hours ago.
He rose from his leather bedding and stretched his weary body, listening to the faint sounds of nature around him. The chirping of birds filled the horizon, and the sound of the nearby river's flowing waters created a soothing rhythm that synchronized with his deep breaths. For a moment, he felt a rare peace, but he never forgot—not even for a second—that what had happened last night was not a dream… it was real, and his enemies were still out there, watching from the shadows.
He donned his light armor and stepped out of his tent with quiet steps, heading toward the river to wash his face. When he reached the bank, he bent down, cupping a handful of cold water in his hands, then splashed it over his face, feeling a sudden refreshment. He took a deep breath, then dipped his hands into the water once more, watching as the first rays of sunlight shimmered on the surface, weaving golden threads that danced with the gentle waves.
But as he lifted his head, his gaze lingered on the river, scanning the surroundings with watchful eyes.
Something was different… something unfamiliar.
The water was clear as usual, reflecting the tall trees around it, but when he looked deeper… it seemed as though the depths were darker than they should be, as if shadows were moving beneath the surface without causing any disturbance.
His body tensed for a moment, and an unsettling sensation crept over his skin. This was no ordinary river—or perhaps, he was not alone by its side.
His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he kept his eyes fixed on the water, tracking any unnatural movement. Was that just his own reflection? Or were there other eyes staring back at him from the depths?
He took a step back, then tossed a small stone into the water, just to see how those mysterious shadows would react. But what happened next was unexpected.
When the stone touched the water's surface, there was no natural ripple… instead, it sank faster than it should have, as if something in the depths had swallowed it whole!
Alythion stared at the spot, his breath steady but heavy with vigilance. Was this just a trick of his exhausted mind? Or was there magic in this river, hiding its secrets?
He stood still for a moment, then glanced around at the surrounding trees, as if making sure no one was watching him. For a brief moment, it felt as though the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to make a wrong move.
In the end, he chose to ignore it—but he was not careless. He turned to his horse, Stormyth, who was watching him from a distance, then made his way back to his tent, knowing deep down that this day would bring even more secrets… and dangers.
Alytheon froze in place, his breath hitching for a moment as he stared at the scene before him. Amid the shadows of the trees, where a faint mist coiled around the intertwined trunks, stood a man of enigmatic presence, cloaked in a long black robe that draped to the ground. In his hand, he held a lantern emitting an eerie violet light, flickering as though a living entity was trapped inside.
The violet glow was dim yet seemed to devour the surrounding darkness, pulsating unnaturally, as if breathing. The sorcerer's features were obscured by the shadows cast by the trees, but his glowing eyes—matching the lantern's hue—sent an unfamiliar chill through Alytheon's spine.
"Who are you?" Alytheon asked, his voice steady but alert, his hand slowly moving toward his sword in preparation for any sudden threat.
The man did not answer immediately. Instead, he lifted the lantern slightly, causing the violet light to stretch out, as if reaching toward Alytheon. Then, in a voice low yet deep, as if echoing from another realm, the sorcerer spoke:
"I have been watching you... hero."
Alytheon narrowed his eyes, stepping forward cautiously, sensing the sinister aura radiating from the man before him. "Watching me? For what reason?"
The sorcerer's lips curled into a barely visible smile beneath the darkness concealing half his face, and he said:
"The path you walk is filled with peril, but there is a truth you must know before you proceed…"
A heavy silence followed before the sorcerer continued in an even more cryptic tone:
"The savior... is not what you think."
Alytheon's heartbeat quickened, yet his expression remained composed. He knew this encounter was no mere coincidence. This sorcerer knew something—something dangerous, perhaps even the key to understanding the enemy that hunted him.
But he wasn't naïve enough to trust the words of a man carrying a lantern glowing with an unnatural light, whose eyes shimmered as though they could peer directly into his soul.
"Explain yourself," Alytheon demanded, his voice firm, while a faint white glow flickered in his palm—a silent warning for any hostile movement.
Yet the sorcerer did not move. He simply chuckled softly and then whispered:
"Soon... you will understand everything."
And suddenly, the lantern's light was extinguished, and the man vanished as if he had never been there, leaving behind a silence even heavier than before.
Alytheon stood rigid, still staring at the empty space where the man had been mere moments ago. Was this a warning? Or just a deception meant to unsettle him?
What he did know for certain was that his journey had just become far more mysterious and perilous than he had anticipated.
As Alytheon walked back to his tent, his mind remained clouded with thoughts of what he had seen by the river. That strange feeling, the shifting shadows beneath the surface, the unnatural silence that had enveloped the area… everything suggested that something was amiss.
Then suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine as his ears caught a strange sound—a sound that did not belong to the peaceful wilderness around him.
It was the voice of a man… but it was not normal.
It was hollow, deep, as if it resonated from another world, echoing from the very depths of darkness itself.
Alytheon halted instantly, his hand slowly moving to the hilt of his sword. He turned cautiously, scanning the trees for the source of the voice.
And then, he saw him.
A figure stood motionless several meters away, shrouded in the thick shadows of the trees.
He was no ordinary man.
The figure wore a dark robe that flowed around him like the very fabric of the night, and in his hand, he held a lantern glowing with a dim yet unsettling violet light. It was not a normal light… it was like the glow of a soul, flickering as if it were alive, as if it held within it secrets yet to be unveiled.
The sorcerer looked directly at Alytheon without uttering a word. His eyes were concealed by shadows, but the aura surrounding him was enough for Alytheon to realize that this was no ordinary being… perhaps, not even human.
Alytheon gripped his sword tightly, his body tense, ready for any sudden movement.
But the sorcerer did not move.
He did not speak.
All he did was raise the lantern slightly, as if presenting it to Alytheon, a faint smirk playing on his lips—a smile that was neither friendly nor reassuring… but filled with mockery and mystery.
Alytheon felt a strange disturbance in the air, as though something unnatural was happening, as if the lantern itself carried a secret far greater than just being a mere source of light.
Then…
In an instant, the violet light vanished, and with it, the man disappeared, as if he had never been there at all.
Alytheon remained still, breathing slowly, his gaze locked on the emptiness where the sorcerer had stood moments ago. What had he just witnessed? Was it a warning? Or a test?
Regardless of the answer, one thing was clear—Alytheon's presence had not gone unnoticed… and someone was watching, perhaps waiting for the right moment to act.
He returned to his tent with slow, deliberate steps, but his mind was racing. This was no mere encounter—it was a clear message… He had stepped into a dangerous game, and the players were no longer just whispers in the dark.
The night had begun to weave its heavy shroud over the land, and the forest murmured in vague whispers—between the distant croaks of frogs and the rustling of leaves stirred by the cold breeze.
Alytheon's footsteps were quiet, but he remained on high alert, fully aware that this place was far from safe. And as he neared his tent, still pondering his fateful meeting with the man in the black cloak, he heard it again—a sound that was not natural.
It was not just the rustling of leaves, nor the movements of an animal lurking in the underbrush… It was a voice—human, yet not quite. Deep, resonant, as though it had emerged from the depths of a bottomless well, tainted with an eerie echo that made the very air around him feel different.
Alytheon stopped immediately, his senses on full alert. Something was not right. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword as he turned swiftly, searching for the source of the sound.
And there, in the heart of the darkness, among the tangled trees, stood a figure unlike any he had encountered before.
The man's dark robe blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding shadows, but what caught Alytheon's attention was not his attire… It was the lantern he carried.
A dim violet glow emanated from within, flickering unnaturally, as if a living entity were trapped inside, desperate to escape. The light was unsteady, pulsing—changing in intensity, as though it were breathing.
Under its faint illumination, the man's features remained unclear, but one thing Alytheon could make out—a pair of cold, unwavering eyes staring back at him.
The man did not move. He did not speak. He merely stood there, watching.
Alytheon felt an inexplicable tension coursing through him. It was not fear, but an unease he could not quite define. The lantern's glow cast an oppressive atmosphere, making the space between them feel heavy, as if even the air had thickened.
He took a deep breath, gathering his composure before speaking, his voice strong but cautious:
"Who are you? And what do you want?"
There was no immediate response.
The man remained still, as though he had not heard the question. Then, slowly, he tilted his head slightly, as if studying Alytheon—or perhaps, as if the question itself was of little significance.
And then, in a quiet yet strangely charged voice, he said:
"He is watching you… and he is waiting."
Alytheon froze.
"Who?" he asked, his voice sharper now, but the man gave no answer.
Instead, he raised the lantern higher, allowing its violet glow to illuminate his face just enough to reveal more of his features…
Elythion's heart pounded as he watched the gray-robed sorcerer begin to walk calmly into the depths of the forest.
He wasn't moving randomly; his steps were measured, as if he knew the path well… as if he wanted to be followed.
But why?
Was this a trap? Was he trying to lure him away from the camp for some reason? Or was he guiding him toward something important?
Elythion hesitated for a moment, his eyes locked onto the man who never once looked back—yet somehow, he was certain Elythion would follow.
"This is no time for hesitation."
He quickly turned to his horse, Stormith, who stood nearby, watching his master with alert eyes, as if sensing something unnatural in the air.
"Come on, my friend. It seems tonight won't be as quiet as I expected."
Gripping the reins, he mounted the horse with ease, then nudged his knees against its sides, urging it forward as he followed the sorcerer, who was slowly vanishing between the dense trees.
With every step he took, the darkness grew heavier.
The forest, which had seemed peaceful at first, now felt… different. As if the air itself carried a strange energy. The trees loomed taller, their leaves whispering in hushed tones as he passed, and the sorcerer's lantern, casting an eerie violet glow, was the only thing piercing the gloom.
Elythion was no fool. He knew this could be a trap. But curiosity—and perhaps the feeling that this was an opportunity to learn more about his unknown enemy—compelled him forward.
His gaze never left the gray-robed man.
He walked steadily, unhurried, as if confident that Elythion would not stop following him.
Then suddenly… he halted.
Without warning, the man stopped in a clearing where the sky, black and vast, was fully visible. The pale moonlight shimmered over the damp grass.
He did not move. He did not turn.
As if, in his silence, he was saying: "We've arrived."
Elythion slowly brought his horse to a stop, his hand tightening around his sword's hilt. What happens now?
Was this place intentional? Or was the sorcerer waiting for something?
He didn't have the answer… but one thing he knew for sure—this night was far from over.
Elithion's heartbeat quickened as he watched the gray-robed sorcerer stare at him for a moment before speaking in a hushed voice:
"Wait here."
Then, he turned away and vanished into the dark trees, as if swallowed by the shadows.
Elithion did not move, but his grip tightened around his sword's hilt, ready for anything. This was no ordinary meeting, no simple exchange of words... he knew he was on the verge of a dangerous confrontation.
The darkness around him seemed to grow denser, as if the trees themselves were trying to smother the faint light filtering through their leaves. This was not mere nighttime darkness—it carried the weight of black magic, and the air was thick with something indescribable.
Then… he heard approaching footsteps.
From within the shadows emerged a tall man, holding a staff in one hand and wearing a light leather cuirass. Despite his simple appearance, there was something unsettling about him—something that made Elithion's skin crawl instinctively.
The man stopped a short distance away, then smirked mockingly before speaking in a deep voice laced with malice:
"Well, well… the great hero himself. Are you here to kill me, you pathetic coward?"
Elithion's eyes narrowed, but his tone remained steady as he replied:
"That's why I summoned you, you madman. Why are you doing this? Why are you inciting the demi-humans against us? What have I done to you?"
The man laughed—but it was not a normal laugh. It was laced with old hatred, deep and bitter. Then, he spoke in a voice dripping with scorn:
"Have you forgotten that battlefield? The one where a thousand swords were buried in the earth from the sheer ferocity of the clash?"
Elithion froze, his eyes locking onto the man before him.
The man continued, his voice quiet but filled with resentment:
"Yes… you remember, don't you? But do you remember the sorcerer who was part of your unit? The one who died because you neglected the mages stationed on the flanks?"
A heavy weight settled in Elithion's chest… It had been a massive battle, bloody and brutal… the losses were great on both sides. How could he not remember?
He replied, his voice firm but devoid of hesitation:
"It was a great battle, with many casualties… How could I forget the mages who died for the kingdom?"
But the man before him burst into laughter again—this time, it was a laugh filled with rage and despair. Then, he said:
"Then tell me, why didn't you see that I was still alive? Why did you leave me to my fate until I was saved by old crones who worship the Goddess of Death?!"
Elithion's eyes widened as he stared at the man before him.
The man smirked coldly and spoke with a mocking tone:
"Of course, you've forgotten my name… I am Nephilim Stan."
At the mention of that name, a chilling sensation ran through Elithion's body.
He knew that name… He had once fought alongside him.
Elithion stared into his eyes, trying to grasp the situation, but Nephilim continued speaking, not giving him the chance to respond:
"And now that I've reminded you of my name, do you have anything to say before I kill you, you wretch?"
Despite the shock, Elithion remained calm.
"Nephilim… calm down. We can talk about this. There is another way."
But Nephilim roared in fury:
"Because of you!! I swore to the Goddess of Death that I would utterly destroy you, and in return, they saved my life! And of course… I am but a man who loves life."
He took a step forward, his voice trembling with emotion:
"Now… look at me! Look at what I have become!"
He reached up and slowly removed his hood…
His face was revealed—a young man, but his body was far from normal. Bones protruded in several places, one eye was missing, and his flesh looked as if it had been grotesquely reshaped.
Elithion gazed at him, overcome by an odd feeling… Before him stood an enemy, yet also the shadow of a man he once knew.
Nephilim let out a furious scream, his voice bursting with rage:
"This is because of you, Elithion… this is because of you!!"