In the country of Quang Sha
a black figure stood atop the gate of a kingdom's community.
His aura was eerie—oppressive and overwhelming.
Just his presence sent shivers down the spines of all who sensed it.
His goal was singular. Ruthless.
To kill Varek Solin.
Croxus, the oldest First Silver Ranker from the Silver School.
Varek Solin had finally graduated from the Gold Rank Academy.
He should've felt proud. Most people would.
But for him, it wasn't about titles or applause.
It was about something deeper—fixing what the world refused to see as broken.
He wanted to help his parents—two good people who had been humiliated just because they were Bronze. Looked down on. Ignored.
That wasn't justice. That wasn't strength.
So now, with graduation behind him and a Gold Rank badge on his chest, Varek set out on his own. No guards. No school. Just him and his mission.
He arrived in a quiet country—Quang Sha.
Different from everywhere else.
Here, there were no ranks. No flashy badges or hierarchy. Just regular people, living normal lives.
The people of Quang Sha had once been part of the system too, but they walked away from it. They hated the way ranks divided and humiliated others. So they let it go. Gave it up.
And somehow, they were still smiling.
Varek walked through the marketplace. It was loud in a peaceful way—vendors calling out prices, kids laughing, smells of street food wafting through the air.
He stopped at a small stand and bought some avocados and apples. The vendor smiled at him, didn't ask about his rank, didn't even look twice at the badge on his chest.
"Just a few coins," the vendor said.
Varek paid, took the fruit, and stood there for a moment, just watching the people around him. Talking. Laughing. Living.
No competition.
No pressure.
No one trying to prove they were better.
He smiled. For the first time in a while, he felt... calm.
After buying fruits for his parents,
Varek wandered deeper into the lively streets of Quang Sha.
Then he saw it—
A small circus setup in the corner of the market.
Bright banners fluttered in the wind, and kids laughed as they played.
One booth caught his eye:
A mana-based game where players used their mana to hit floating targets.
If you hit three, you'd win a prize—an energy-powered stuffed toy.
Varek watched for a moment.
Then stepped up.
He focused, raised his hand—
Three quick shots of mana.
Each one hit clean.
People clapped lightly.
He smiled as the booth runner handed him a soft, fox-shaped toy glowing with warm energy.
He held it gently.
"This'll make Mom smile," he said to himself, a quiet grin on his face.
He tucked it into his bag beside the fruits.
Then turned down the path that led home—
Relaxed.
Happy.
Varek continued walking through the streets of Quang Sha, the soft sounds of the market fading into the background.
The sky was a calm shade of blue, clouds drifting slowly overhead.
He passed by a small blacksmith's stall—simple, quiet, almost hidden between two larger shops.
But something caught his eye.
A sword.
Not just any sword.
A silver-forged blade, resting carefully on a wooden stand, its handle wrapped in dark leather, clean and worn just right.
It gleamed softly under the sun.
Varek stepped closer, drawn to it.
His father had always admired silver swords.
Talked about them when he thought no one was listening.
Said he'd never waste money on one, not when the family had other things to worry about.
Varek looked at the price.
He could afford it.
His hand reached out slowly.
The smith noticed and gave him a nod of approval.
A few minutes later, Varek walked away from the stall with the sword wrapped gently in cloth, resting over his shoulder.
He smiled again—
Fruit for his parents.
A gift for his mother.
A gift for his father.
As he walked further, the warm scent of something sweet drifted through the air.
Varek followed it, drawn in like a curious child.
He turned a corner and found it:
A dessert shop tucked beneath a large tree, its branches hanging lazily over the roof.
Outside the shop, a crowd had gathered.
Inside, the pastry chef moved like an artist—his hands glowing with soft mana, shaping the ingredients mid-air.
Sugar spun in circles, flour floated gently, eggs cracked without touch.
Then came the cake.
Layers rising slowly, frosting twirling like ribbons.
The final creation: a beautiful white-and-yellow vanilla cake. Simple. Pure.
Like something from a dream.
Varek stared for a while.
Then smiled.
"This one," he said quietly, stepping forward.
He paid for the cake.
The chef handed it to him carefully, boxed and protected in a mana-sealed case to keep it fresh.
Now, he held the sword over his shoulder.
The toy in his bag.
Fruit tucked safely under his arm.
And the cake—his final gift, glowing faintly in its case.
His steps were lighter now.
Varek had fought so hard to come back. After months of running, of being hunted, he finally made it. He was so close. He had gifts for his parents, gifts that he hoped would show them how much he appreciated everything they had done for him.
"Father, Mother, I have gifts for you!" he called out as he opened the door, his heart light with hope.
But everything shattered in an instant.
The moment the door swung open, the scent of blood hit him. His parents lay on the floor, lifeless. Blood pooled around their bodies, staining the floor a dark crimson.
Varek's breath caught in his throat, his body frozen. He stared at the scene, his heart pounding in his chest. And there, standing over them, was the one person he had trusted the most—Knox Cthul, the Gold Ranker who had once protected him.
Varek's eyes shrank, pupils contracting in disbelief. "No…" he whispered, stepping forward, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. "No…"
He felt the air leave his lungs as he looked up at Knox. The man who had been his mentor. The one who had taught him, guided him, saved him from Croxus. This man, standing here with blood on his sword, had just taken the lives of the two people Varek loved most.
"Why?" Varek's voice was hoarse, shaking. He dropped the gifts to the floor as his hands trembled. "Why did you do this?"
Knox didn't flinch. He didn't show the slightest hint of remorse. His eyes were cold, detached, like he was talking about something inconsequential. "You're asking why?" he scoffed, his voice like ice. "You really don't understand, do you?"
Varek's chest tightened as the world around him seemed to warp. "No… I don't. I don't understand! You... You were my protector! You taught me! You—"
Knox's laugh was bitter and low, his voice cutting through Varek's words like a knife. "You think I did this for you? For them? You've always been so blind, Varek. You never saw it. You never realized that everything I did… everything I told you... was to control you. I don't need your loyalty. I don't need your gratitude."
Varek stepped back, his heart racing, trying to make sense of the pieces. "You're lying… you're lying! You told me... you said—"
Knox's eyes darkened, his smirk fading. "You were never meant to be some hero. Your parents weren't heroes. They were weak. You were weak. They protected you, kept you in this little bubble, telling you lies about honor and love. They made you soft. I had to kill them to break you. To make you see that the world doesn't give a damn about your ideals. It's about power, survival, and control. Everything I've done... was to free you from them. From their weakness."
Varek's breath hitched. "You… you killed them because of me? Because you thought I was weak?" His voice cracked as the realization began to set in. "They loved me… They never did anything to you!"
Knox's expression didn't change. He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Varek's. "I didn't kill them for you, Varek. I killed them because they were holding you back. You couldn't see it, but they were chaining you to a life of mediocrity. You could have been great, but they kept feeding you lies, making you believe that you were something special. You weren't. You're just another weakling in this world."
Varek's knees buckled, his entire body shaking. "No… no, this isn't possible. You were my mentor. You cared about me!"
Knox's voice was colder than before, his words cutting deeper. "Caring about you was never the point. You were a tool. A weapon. You think I helped you because I cared? No, I helped you because I needed you to be strong. To survive. You've been chasing some fairy tale, Varek. But there's no such thing as heroes. There's only those who survive and those who perish."
Varek stumbled back, his chest tight with anger, confusion, and pain. "This isn't…"
Knox's eyes flashed with something darker, something that felt like a final nail in the coffin. "I am exactly who I've always been. You just weren't ready to see it. I'm the one who showed you the truth. You were never going to change this world by clinging to your ideals. The world only listens to strength. And now, you'll understand that. You'll either join me, or you'll die just like them."
Varek's heart felt like it was being torn from his chest. The man who had been his mentor, his protector, had never cared. He had never been a friend. He had used Varek all along, and now, he had taken everything Varek held dear.
"You monster..." Varek's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes filled with tears. "You killed them... for nothing..."
Knox's smirk returned, cold and mocking. "Nothing? No, Varek. It's the only way for you to see the world clearly. And I'm giving you the choice now: come with me, or end up just like them. Weak, pathetic, dead. It's your decision."
Varek stood there, his body trembling, caught between the weight of his grief and the weight of the truth he had just learned. His heart shattered, but in the midst of it all, there was something rising inside him—a new kind of fire.
"I won't join you," he whispered, his voice shaking with quiet rage.