The ocean breeze carried the crisp scent of salt and adventure, weaving through the streets of Oceankeep like an old sailor sharing a forgotten tale. Though the town was quiet, life moved at an easy pace—until you stepped into the market district.
Merchants called out their wares, their voices a symphony of bargains and bravado. Hands waved over baskets of fresh fruit and bolts of richly dyed fabric, while the scent of roasted meat and warm bread mingled with the ever-present tang of the sea. Travelers and townsfolk bustled through the cobbled streets, pausing to inspect glittering trinkets or argue fiercely over the price of rare spices. Laughter and chatter wove into the rhythmic clatter of cartwheels and distant gull cries, forming the heartbeat of a thriving port town.
Even as the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet, and evening draped itself over the town, the market district pulsed with life, undeterred by the approaching night.
At the heart of the marketplace stood the Candlelight Inn. Its sturdy wooden beams bore the marks of time, but the golden glow spilling from its windows promised warmth and welcome. A haven for weary travelers and a gathering place for locals, it was famed not just for its hearty meals, but for the stories whispered within its walls.
And no one told them better than the town's renowned and beloved storyteller, Grandpa Oro, as the townsfolk called him.
A weathered man with a beard as white as seafoam and silver eyes sharp as a knife's edge, Oro carried the air of someone who had lived more than he let on. His robes, simple yet impeccably kept, hinted at a past both unassuming and extraordinary. Many dismissed his tales as mere fables—old men had a habit of embellishing the past—but still, they listened. Some for amusement, others in secret hope that, just maybe, there was more truth in his words than they dared to believe.
***
"Hey, Grandpa Oro, why don't you tell us one of your stories today?" a local called out, grinning as he ate lunch with his friends at the inn.
Oro chuckled, stroking his long white beard. "Hoho, you really want to hear an old man ramble? How about this—treat me to a meal, and I'll share a tale worth your coin."
Laughter erupted from a nearby table. "Hahaha! Old man Oro's as sharp as ever!" someone remarked.
"Alright, you got me, Grandpa. This one's on me," the first local conceded with a good-natured smile.
Oro took a slow sip of tea, his silver eyes gleaming with amusement. "Then let me tell you all the tale of the Dark Continent."
The chatter in the inn quieted as the name settled over them.
"The Dark Continent?" a young man repeated, his brows furrowing.
"The forbidden land?" another local added. "Isn't that the place of no return? The land of the dead? No one's set foot there in centuries since its discovery. What kind of story could you possibly tell us about it, Grandpa Oro?"
Old man Oro chuckled, his silver eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Now what if I told you that the Dark Continent was not discovered a few hundred years ago? And that it was never truly the land of the dead, nor was it always such a dangerous place?"
His words sent a ripple of curiosity through the inn. More customers, drawn by his mysterious claim, turned their attention toward the old man, their meals momentarily forgotten.
The young man leaned forward, frowning. "Grandpa Oro, what do you mean?"
Oro stroked his long beard, taking his time before continuing. "Well… this is something only a few people know. And whether it's true or not, who can say? It's a story from long, long ago. I first learned about it in my youth, when I studied under my master."
The lively chatter in the inn faded to silence as everyone listened. Even new patrons, after ordering their meals from the servant girl, found themselves drawn in by the old man's tale.
"My master was a renowned scholar," Oro continued, his voice calm yet commanding. "He had access to a great library, and though I wasn't always the most eager student, he would drag me there day after day. Beneath that library, hidden away, was an underground archive—an ancient vault where history's forgotten records were stored."
A hush fell over the room, the atmosphere thick with anticipation.
"One day, while exploring that archive, I stumbled upon an old, dusty, and torn book titled The Day of the Dark Calamity." Oro's fingers traced the rim of his teacup as he spoke. "Curious, I asked my master about it. He told me it was a record of ancient times." He chuckled. "Naturally, that only made me more curious. What kind of event could warrant such a grand title?"
One man couldn't hold back his impatience. "And? What did it say, Grandpa Oro?"
Oro's gaze swept across the eager faces in the inn before he answered. "Hoho… the record claimed that what we now call the Dark Continent was once a thriving land. More than four thousand years ago, it was home to prosperous kingdoms and mighty empires."
Gasps of disbelief filled the room.
"Four thousand years ago?" a middle-aged man scoffed. "Old man, how can there be a record of the Dark Continent from that long ago? Wasn't it only discovered five hundred years ago?"
Oro chuckled knowingly. "Hoho, that is indeed the history passed down from generation to generation. Around five hundred and sixty years ago, after braving the storm-ridden, wild seas, explorers set foot on what they thought was a newly discovered land. But their attempts to explore it ended in disaster. Those who ventured deep into its territory never returned."
The old man's voice dropped slightly, adding weight to his next words. "Whether it was the monstrous beasts that roamed the land, the suffocating black smoke that filled the air, or the cursed nature of the land itself… no one knows for certain. Even when dozens of kingdoms and empires—including our own Brightmoon Empire—allied together and sent countless expeditions, not a single soul ever made it back. Not even the strongest warriors and mages of the past could survive in that place."
A heavy silence hung over the inn as the weight of his words settled in.
The middle-aged man nodded solemnly. "Indeed, they say that place was like a piece of land torn straight from Hell itself. After countless lives were lost, people abandoned the idea of exploring it altogether. Some called it The Cursed Land, others The Forbidden Land, and over time… it became known as The Dark Continent."
"Oro stroked his beard and took a slow sip of tea before continuing. 'Mhm… however, according to the ancient record, more than four thousand years ago, that land had a different name—Verdellia Continent. The writings describe it as a land of breathtaking beauty, with fertile soil stretching as far as the eye could see. Strong kingdoms and great empires flourished there, but among them, one peculiar nation stood out—it was the smallest, with the least heritage, yet it was the mightiest kingdom on the continent, known as the Cloudpeak Kingdom.'"
"How could the smallest kingdom be the strongest?" one of the listeners asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
Oro chuckled, enjoying their anticipation. "It was all thanks to its king," he said. "The records speak of a ruler shrouded in mystery—his origins unknown. They called him The Stormbringer."
Murmurs spread through the inn.
"They called him that," Oro went on, "because his power was so overwhelming that the weather itself would bow before him. When he unleashed his strength, the winds would howl, the skies would darken, and thunder would roar across the heavens. Or so the stories say."
One man's eyes widened. "A master like that actually existed in ancient times?"
The inn was now fully entranced by the tale, with customers sipping their drinks and savoring their meals as they hung onto Oro's every word.
The old man nodded. "Mhm… but it wasn't just raw power that made him formidable. He was sharp—his mind as deadly as his strength. His knowledge and wit were unparalleled, and with his leadership, he not only founded Cloudpeak Kingdom but also raised it to be the strongest in the land. Many powerful warriors and mages pledged their allegiance to him."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before adding, "But despite all his might, the great king had one fatal weakness."
Someone leaned forward eagerly. "What kind of weakness could a man like that possibly have?"
Oro let out a deep, knowing chuckle. "Hohoho… well, it was his wife."
A beat of silence. Then—
"BWAHAHA~!! I KNEW IT! NO MAN CAN RESIST SOME GOOD BIG OL' TI—"
The customer didn't even finish before the entire inn erupted into laughter, tables shaking as men clutched their stomachs, roaring with amusement.
Another patron, wiping tears from his eyes, cackled, "Ah-hahaha~! You're right! I swear, women are gonna be the end of us one day!"
"HEY! Don't say such vulgar things here!!" the servant girl, huffed, her cheeks flushing red.
Her reaction only made the customers laugh even harder.