…The piercing screams had risen to such a crescendo that even the stormy winds seemed ashamed. The labor pains were unbearable, and Queen Alder writhed in excruciating agony. The Sacred Tree, as if to honor this woman’s endurance, had lowered its branches. The sky, once bright, had now darkened with storm clouds, as if mourning the pain itself.

One of the midwives, her face smeared with the queen’s blessed blood, said in a trembling voice, “Your Majesty, please hold on a little longer.” The queen, her voice raspy and full of pain, replied, “I know… It feels as if even my child doesn’t want to come into this wretched world...” She had reached the limits of her endurance.

Finally, the boy was born, but he made no sound. The queen also lay motionless. The atmosphere grew overwhelmingly tense. The boy was brought to his mother, but the queen gave no reaction. Suddenly, the baby began to cry; not to show he was alive, but as if mourning the loss of his mother. King Atrius, hearing the cries, rushed to his wife’s side, but his smile froze in place. Queen Alder was gone.

The king cradled his lifeless wife and cried out in grief, “Alder! Wake up! Please, come see... our son is waiting for you! Please… you know I’m terrible with children. Please, wake up… Alderrrr!” Every member of the Legendary race knelt in honor of the queen they had lost, shouting her name in unison. The Sacred Tree shed some of its blossoms at the queen’s feet. The sky let out a thunderous roar, as if weeping in shared sorrow.

The child, now cleaned, continued to cry. After endless sobs, Atrius rose, his face blank, and approached his son. Holding him gently, he said, “My son… my dear son… I know you want your mother’s embrace, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being an unworthy father and husband. Your name shall be Arian, as your mother chose—a name meaning pure and noble.”

Turning to the assembled people, he declared in a loud voice, “Today, we have witnessed tragedy. But we cannot remain in mourning forever. A great battle lies ahead. I have lost my wife, and you your queen, but I have a son, and his name is Arian. He is your crown prince. Please, guide him as you have guided me.”

The people fell into a heavy silence, as if they resented Arian, believing him the cause of the queen’s death—a curse upon them. King Atrius cradled Arian and walked away, heading toward a dark, misty forest. He vanished from sight. His face was wet—whether from rain or tears was unclear—but he pressed his heir close as he approached a small cabin deep in the woods. The child wept incessantly, and the rain visibly soaked the king’s cloak, now stained with his wife’s blood. Arian’s cries echoed through the forest, yet no creature dared move in the presence of Atrius.

The cabin door creaked open, and an elderly woman emerged. Her radiant skin and amber eyes reflected her wisdom. Atrius approached, bowed his head, and spoke softly, “Zynarfil... I must leave. Please, take care of Arian.” Zynarfil bowed deeply, mourning the queen’s death, and took Arian into her arms. With sadness, she replied, “Rest assured, I will raise your son as if he were my own. Now go.” Atrius, his eyes lifeless and his smile hollow, nodded and left.

Meanwhile, murmurs spread throughout the allied forces’ camp. Soldiers whispered endlessly until a commander roared, “What’s all this racket? Do you think this is a women’s bathhouse? Shut up and get back to your posts!” A soldier hesitantly reported, “Sir, a messenger pigeon just arrived. It says Queen Alder has passed, and Atrius has vanished.” The commander snarled, “I know! What now? Should I send him my condolences?” Ashamed and bitter, the soldiers dispersed.

Inside the royal tent, a discussion was underway. One king suggested, “King Andreas, now is the perfect time to attack. The grief of losing their queen has weakened the Legendaries.” King Andreas responded, “I know, but remember, a wounded lion is most dangerous. What do you think, King Dracencius and King Eldinor?”

Dracencius and Eldinor paused before agreeing, “We stand with King Raxleus. Let’s mobilize our forces. Besides, our armies outnumber the entire Legendary race by forty to one. Victory is assured.”

After a moment of thought, Andreas ordered, “Very well, we prepare for battle to extinguish this race once and for all. Raxleus, your sword-wielding vampires and human warriors will form the front line. Dracencius, have twenty of your warriors transform into dragons and attack from the skies. The rest of your warriors, skilled in close combat, will form support teams in pairs for the front line. Eldinor, instruct your elf archers to ride the dragons and provide aerial cover while your magicians split into two groups—one for the rear, and one to lead alongside me on the ground.”

The three kings nodded and departed to implement the strategy. Meanwhile, Atrius returned to his people. During his absence, the queen had been laid in a coffin crafted from the Sacred Tree’s branches. He mourned her one last time and called the people together.

After a moment of silence, Atrius spoke with a commanding voice, “People! Today, we have witnessed a grievous event—the death of my wife. But we cannot wallow in sorrow forever. In a few hours, we will face one of history’s greatest battles. I cannot promise victory, as I have no reason left to live. Yet, I thank you all for standing by me in these dark times. Now, as not a king, but as one of you, I ask that you leave. For if you stay, death awaits you.

But if you choose to remain, know that we fight not for revenge or conquest, but for honor and dignity.”

As Atrius concluded, the Legendaries—gathered around the Sacred Tree, as their traditions demanded during the birth of a crown prince—erupted in unified cries, “Long live the king! Long live Queen Alder!”

Atrius gave a faint smile before resolutely commanding, “Now, soldiers, come with me to plan our strategy.” He approached the Sacred Tree and rested his head against its trunk.

In a soft voice, he whispered, “Today, both you and I meet our end. But fear not, for Arian will return one day, and you will be reborn. As for me... I will not. So please, keep my memories safe for him،It seemed as though the Sacred Tree gently swayed in response, as if understanding Atrius’s thoughts and feelings.

Atrius gathered with his soldiers in the camp tent, strategizing for the battle. With a firm voice, he addressed one of the commanders, “Commander, the enemy’s forces will number close to 40,000, while our entire population is merely 1,000, of which only 560 are fighters. But remember, the strength of each of us is equal to four of them, so do not worry.”

He continued, “Given the dark and cloudy sky, the vampires will be at their peak strength. Therefore, I expect they will lead the first wave of the attack. Send a few men now to set locking traps on the battlefield to slow them down.

The other major threat is the dragons. I estimate only twenty or thirty of them will shift into their dragon forms and attack from the sky. Do not worry; I will personally handle their aerial forces. As for the rest attacking on the ground, they will be yours to deal with.

There’s nothing else special. Quickly, go and prepare for the battle, and please leave me alone for a while.”

The soldiers left their king alone, overwhelmed by a profound sense of sympathy for him. How could one endure so much misfortune and still stand tall against fate?

After hours of preparation, the battle finally began. The battlefield was filled with emotions of doubt, anxiety, and fear on both sides. On the allied force’s side, Andreas, Dracencius, Raxleus, and Eldinor were all mounted on their horses behind the front lines, staring at the battlefield with determined gazes.

In contrast, Atrius, as the leader, stood on foot shoulder-to-shoulder with his soldiers. His steady and determined gaze inspired the hearts of those around him. Emotions swirled within him; not only was he thinking of his soldiers, but also of his beloved Arian and the legacy he must leave behind.

A cool breeze swept through the battlefield, intensifying the tension. Both sides approached each other slowly, the sound of their own heartbeats louder than that of the impending war. Atrius took a deep breath, turned to his soldiers, and said, “Today, none of us will grieve a second time. There is no retreat; only the path ahead is open because behind us are our children.”

With these words, he sought to lift their spirits and ready himself for what lay ahead.

He then turned to face the enemies and declared in a loud voice, “I am Atrius, the 20th King of the Randera Dynasty, the Keeper of Balance. I stand before you today. I assure you, if you retreat now, you will live; if not, you will die a gruesome death. Four kings, it would be wise for you to abandon your folly, for this battle will disrupt the balance of the world!”

Dracencius roared in fury, “You’re the fool, Atrius! Look around you! You stand with only 600 against our 40,000! Do you really think you can win and maintain balance? What a ridiculous joke! Your own Legendary race is the disruptor of balance!”

Dracencius glanced at his soldiers and shouted, “Attack! Let’s show them how we deal with a false king and his pitiful army!”

The battlefield quaked with the roar of warriors and the clash of chains and weapons. Atrius looked at his soldiers, seeing the passion for the fight burning in their eyes. He knew today would be a historic day. With a heart full of hope, he stepped forward and shouted, “Together, we fight for honor and freedom! Today, we will prove that the power of faith and unity can overcome any force!”

Thus, the two armies surged toward each other, sealing their fate and the fate of the world in this decisive battle.

Atrius strode forward resolutely, drawing his longsword from its sheath. With a simple swing, the sky trembled, casting doubt among the enemy forces. A yellow light radiated from his sword, strengthening the resolve of his soldiers once more.

He infused his sword with mana and launched his first strike with immense power. With a single swift blow, several enemies fell to the ground, the stench of blood and death filling the air. The dragons and enemy elf archers turned their gazes toward Atrius and attacked him.

The vampire-locking traps emerged from the battlefield’s horizon, seeking an opportunity to halt those deadly attacks. Amidst this chaos, a powerful war erupted. The earth trembled from the pain and damage caused by the battle, and the sky could no longer bear the sound of clashing magic and swords. Atrius’s magic, like lightning, illuminated the sky, as if the world itself had momentarily gasped for breath.

Magical rifts appeared in the air, and his sword strikes, like massive earthquakes, shifted the tide of the battle. Yet the enemy, especially Dracensius, refused to surrender. With a roar filled with rage and determination, he commanded his forces to attack.

The allied forces, holding faith in Atrius, advanced with all their might. In this historic encounter, amidst a ruthless battle, the fate of two worlds rested in the hands of warriors fighting for faith and honor.

While Atrius fought in the heart of the battlefield, Andreas stood in a corner with a mysterious smile, thinking to himself, “Just as I predicted, this battle is ours.” He gestured to his remaining forces and shouted, “Attack, everyone! Now is the time to show our strength!”

With Andreas’s command, the battle intensified once more. Despite the stark difference in numbers, the Legends unexpectedly gained the upper hand. The power of faith and Atrius’s courage inspired his soldiers to fight to their last breath.

An hour passed, and the brutality and violence of the battlefield persisted. Atrius fought valiantly, but the cost of his bravery was steep. In exchange for taking down approximately 6,000 enemy forces, he lost his right hand and part of his abdomen. Deep wounds on his body and face bore the marks of his resilience and bravery.

Now, he stood alone on the battlefield, surrounded by about 28,000 enemies in a tight circle. All his comrades had been slain, and he now faced the challenge alone, weary and wounded.

Atrius looked around. He heard the triumphant roars of his enemies, but within him, a flame of hope still burned. He knew this battle was not just for himself but for all those who had sacrificed their lives for courage and faith. This warrior of war, alive and unyielding, was ready to fight to his last breath against all enemy forces.

At this moment, despair did not allow him to surrender. He looked at the ground with his wounds and said to himself, “Today is my day. As long as I have a breath in my chest, I will not surrender.”

Atrius glanced back and saw the sacred tree on the horizon. It was engulfed in a sorrowful silence, screaming in his heart. He saw how defenseless infants, women, and children were slaughtered by the vile sorcerers. It seemed as though there was nothing within them—not even mercy for the smallest victims.

Andreas, at that moment, mockingly looked at Atrius and said, “Now, who is the fool?! Take a look around! All your people are dead, and you are the only one left alive—if we can even call you alive.”

Then, with a savage move, Andreas severed Atrius’s leg. He barely endured the pain but was ultimately dragged toward his wife’s coffin. The coffin, made from the branches of the sacred tree, symbolized Atrius’s love and loyalty to his queen.

In the queen’s embrace lay an infant, but Atrius quickly realized it was not Arian. This infant was the child of one of the Legends, sacrificed to prevent the enemies from pursuing the prince.

Pain and despair gripped Atrius’s soul, but in his mind, courage and a strong will burned brightly. He could not allow the names of his wife and child—even if the child was not his—to fade into darkness so easily.With all his might, he shouted, “I will not surrender! My name is Atrius, and I will fight to the last breath to protect what I love!” With these words, his resolve was renewed, and he steeled himself to thwart Andreas’s plans and save what remained of his family.

Roxelius gazed at the sacred tree and, with a mocking tone, said to Atrius, “Do you know why this is called the sacred tree? Because the first of the Legend race was born here. Your child is the last, but unfortunately, he is dead. Now, I will destroy this tree so that no more Legends are ever born!”

With those words, Roxelius unleashed destructive magic upon the sacred tree, and the tree began to wither and perish. The tree, a symbol of life and hope for the Legend race, gradually disintegrated with each strike of the magic. As the tree was destroyed, the ground beneath Atrius shook, and he felt as though his world was collapsing.

But this was not the end of the story. Following this, Andreas, with cold, unfeeling eyes, decapitated Atrius. He believed that by doing so, he had eliminated the last Legend, but the truth was far more complex than he could imagine.

In a cottage deep within the forest, baby Arian, nestled in the arms of Zynarfil, suddenly began to cry. Zynarfil, who had never lost hope, gently tightened his embrace and, with tears in his eyes, whispered to the child, “So, you felt it too, my boy?”

Zynarfil knew there was still hope in this dark world. He deeply believed that Arian, Atrius’s son, represented the Legend race and all the dreams this land needed. In his heart, he felt that even in the darkest moments and direst circumstances, there was a light that could guide the way back.

History would forever remember the story of Atrius and the hidden secrets of the Legend generations. Life always finds a way, even in the midst of darkness.

Seven years had passed since the fateful battle, and the world had returned to its former calm. During this time, to honor the victory and maintain peace between the four races, a school was founded in the capital of Calostia, the realm of humans. The school was named Chrysalis.

Arian and Zynarfil were living together in their cottage. Now that Arian was seven years old, he was learning more about martial arts and magical skills. His mentor, Zynarfil—a dragon and the very one who had raised Atrius—was in charge of Arian’s training.

“Alright, Arian,” Zynarfil said, “before we start our work, first tell me—what do you know about the geography of the world?”

“Well, Master, as you know, our world consists of two major landmasses. The larger one is called Ugandra, and the smaller one... is named Zilandra. There’s also a large ocean between these two continents, named Thalaris, in honor of the goddess of water.”

“Good job, boy. Now let me tell you about the details of Ugandra. This continent is home to four races: dragons, vampires, elves, and humans. Each of these races, based on their powers and attributes, has claimed a region. Humans, being stronger in diplomacy, share borders with all three of the other races. And their country? That’s right—it’s called Calostia, with its capital located near the ocean. Let’s talk about the dragons. They’re the only creatures capable of flight, so their country lies in the Argolin Mountain Range. Between this range and the human lands lies the Magic Swamp, where, if you’re not careful, the creatures there might devour you. At the northernmost point of the swamp and the continent is a land that is mostly in darkness. Why? That’s right—because the sun rarely shines there. That’s the kingdom of vampires, known as Darkland. Lastly, the land of the elves lies in the forest, and it’s called Silanderin.”

“Master, I have a question. If we’re in a forest right now, does that mean we’re in the land of the elves?”“Not exactly, my child. We are in the forest of the Calostian kingdom... Now, come on, let’s teach you some swordsmanship. Hurry, go grab your wooden sword!”

Arian and Zynarfil practiced together every day. Zynarfil prepared him for the future and answered all of the little one’s questions—except for those related to his parents. To those, he would only say, “They were great people.”

Hours passed in this manner, and Arian grew stronger each day in knowledge and combat skills. Realizing that this method of training was no longer adequate for Arian’s progress, Zynarfil proposed, “Arian, what do you think about going on a journey? I think it’s time for you to see the world beyond the forest.”

“Yes, Master! Please... let me quickly pack my things. Where are we going? To the sea? Or the Argolin Mountains, hmm! Or maybe the Dark Marshes?!”

“Calm down, this isn’t a leisure trip. We’re going on a mission. And the first place we’re heading to is the capital of Calostia!”

Both Arian and Zynarfil prepared for their adventure. They traveled on foot to build Arian’s endurance, while Zynarfil taught him how to absorb the mana around him while walking, without meditating. In the early days of their journey, they left the forest where their cottage was located and entered a vast, lush plain. In the center of this plain was a road that connected the capital of Calostia to the border town of Irwana, which was near the land of the elves.

“Master, look at those butterflies! Why are they behaving like that?”

“Arian, be careful. Every beautiful thing has its dangers. These butterflies, if you notice, hover more around insects than flowers. Do you know why? Because the mana within insects is tastier for these butterflies.”

“So why should I be careful, Master? I’m not an insect!”

“True, but if you bother one of them, they’ll all attack you together because they have vengeful personalities.”

“What fascinating creatures. We didn’t have them in the forest. I guess they’re afraid of that place. Oh, Master, look at that dog! This one doesn’t seem very dangerous, huh?”

Their journey continued in this way, encountering other travelers along the road who were heading to Irwana. Near nightfall, Zynarfil suggested they rest for the night. They went over other lessons, and Arian helped Zynarfil prepare food.

“Well, Arian, tonight I want to teach you about the anatomy of different races. Although there are significant differences, the bodies of all of us work in similar ways. For any being to use mana, they must have mana veins and a mana core, forming a mana circulation system similar to a blood circulation system. However, these veins and cores form at different ages for different races. For example, in humans at age 8, elves at age 12, dragons at age 20, and vampires at age 31. Of course, this is an estimate, as some, like you, form their mana core much earlier.”

“So, Master, does that mean I’m a genius? And how come I didn’t even realize I had a mana core?”

“Yes, Arian, you are a genius, an exceptional case. You formed your core at the age of 3, which is why you’ve forgotten about it. But remember, don’t tell anyone about this except your closest loved ones, okay?”

“Yes, Master. Now, can you explain the rest of the lesson?”

“No, Arian, that’s enough for tonight. Now, go to sleep. I’ll join you shortly.”

After putting Arian to bed, Zynarfil walked toward a dark spot in the plain. With each step closer to that point, the suffocating feeling in the area intensified.

“You’re the ones heading to Irwana, aren’t you? What happened? Why are you back?”

“Please forgive us! We didn’t know that... ugh!”

“Didn’t know what, huh?! I despise fools like you, whose mana cores are still in the red zone even at the age of 30, yet you take up banditry.”

The sound of breaking.Zynarfil sent the two bandits to the next world, then returned to Arian to rest by his side. The next morning, Arian and Zynarfil resumed their journey and training. Zynarfil handed Arian a transparent crystal, one designed to be used after awakening one’s mana core.

“Arian, my dear, take this crystal and try to inject your mana into it.”

“Why, Master?”

“Well, because I got this from a traveling merchant, and since we didn’t have it before, we couldn’t figure out your primary mana element.”

“Alright, Master. But... what is a primary element?”

Zynarfil replied, “Do the test first, and I’ll explain afterward.” During the test, Zynarfil’s eyes widened in shock. He was witnessing one of the wonders of the world.

A primary element indicates which element someone is most attuned to and may learn related elements with effort. Most of the time, a person only has one primary element, and the crystal displays that single color. Rarely, someone might have two primary elements, and the crystal shows two colors. However, for Arian, the crystal displayed all four colors—and, additionally, a black hue appeared, a color said in legends to manifest only when nature itself chose someone.

Another legend, known only to Zynarfil, stated that if black appeared in the crystal, it meant the person had been chosen by the goddess of death and creation herself!

“Master, what happened? What are these colors?”

“Sorry, my son, I got distracted for a moment. Let’s continue. The primary element shows which type of magic someone can use. As I’ve taught you before, there are four primary elements: air, which appears green; water, blue; earth, brown; and fire, red. The color in the crystal indicates which element the mana user can harness. With effort, they can also use related elements. For example, someone with fire as their primary element could potentially use lightning.”

“That’s so cool, Master! Does that mean I’m the ruler of all elements? And what does the black mean?”

“Yes, Arian, you have the potential to rule over all elements—if you work hard. As for the black... In ancient times, it was said that anyone with black in their crystal could become something beyond this world’s imagination. But in the 23,000 years since the first wizard, you’re the only one who’s had this element.”

“So, if I’m the first, how do they know what this element does?”

“It’s said this element was first seen in the forgotten goddess, the goddess of death and creation. But that’s just a theory.”

“Alright, Master. Now will you teach me how to use magic? So far, you’ve only taught me to gather mana around my fists and sword as a shield, that’s it!”

“Yes, but first, you need to determine which category of mana users you belong to: mages or enhancers! It depends on the capabilities of your mana veins. I already know which category you fall into, but what do you think?”

“Well, Master, you taught me that mages manipulate the mana in their surroundings to cast spells, while enhancers use the mana within themselves. So, I guess I’m an enhancer!”

“Bravo! Here’s a candy as a reward. Now, let me explain in more detail. Mana veins in the body connect to the outside through points with gateways. Mana flows into and out of the body through these points. In mages, these gateways are fewer but larger, allowing them to release more mana from a single point compared to enhancers. Enhancers, like you, have more points in their bodies, but the gateways are smaller. That’s why your mana spreads evenly across your body rather than concentrating in one area.”

“Okay, Master. So, I have many points in my body but can’t cast big spells?”

“You can, but you’ll need to work hard. First, let’s learn how to distribute elemental mana within your body. How does that sound?”

Arian and Zynarfil continued their journey, learning more about the world around them. Arian encountered fascinating creatures, like bird-hunting mice and wolf-eared cats, while Zynarfil laughed at Arian’s playful antics.

After three days, they reached the capital, a bustling city filled with crowds and shops selling all sorts of items, from magical wands to furniture. The streets were paved with stone, and everyone seemed to be heading toward the central square in front of the king’s palace. After the global peace treaty, different races began living together, so people from diverse backgrounds could be seen everywhere.

“Wow, Master! It’s so big! What’s that? And that? Oh, what’s this? By the way, why is that man’s skin so pale? Oh, Master, can I buy this, please?!”

“Arian, you’re all over the place! What do you want now?”

“Look! They’re selling magical eggs. Maybe I’ll get a rare creature!”

“Oh, madam, please don’t break your son’s heart. Little boy, you’ve come to the right place. These eggs were brought from the continent of Zilandra. They say they could hatch into a phoenix, a demon, or a wolf—I’m not sure!”

“Master, please, can I get one?!”

“Fine! Stop giving me that look with your eyes! Alright, sir, how much?”

“For this charming boy, I’ll only take ten rants.”

“Alright, here you go. Arian, pick one.”

“Hmm... I’ll take the black one!”

“Here you go, little one. Come back anytime!”

After buying the egg, Zynarfil visited an information shop and purchased a map of Calostia and its surroundings. Then, the two headed to an affordable . “Master, what do you think this egg is?” “Look, Arian, I think it’s probably a regular chicken egg since it only cost ten rants. If it were a real magical egg, it would’ve been over seventy rants. Now forget the egg and go eat your dinner! I want to teach you some more—hurry up!”

Both of them ate their dinner, sat in the middle of the small rented room, and prepared for their lesson.

“Alright, Arian, so far we’ve figured out that you’re an enhancer with all the elements. Now tell me, does that make you invincible?” “No, Master. If I don’t work hard and get stronger, then no. There will always be someone stronger than me!”

“Good answer, my boy. Now let’s talk more about the mana circulation system. The core is the main part of the system. If you want to disable a mana user without physical harm, you can destroy their core—this will prevent them from using magic ever again! The core acts like a pump, moving mana in and out of the body. The mana core itself has levels, which you can notice by looking within yourself at the area where your core is located. Each level is represented by a specific color. The difference in levels and colors lies in the density of a person’s mana. Let me explain with an example—it’s like polluted water. The more polluted it is, the murkier it gets. Now focus inside yourself, around your stomach. What color is your core?” “...Hmm, Master, I think it’s red!”

“Exactly correct! You get a chocolate as a reward. Now let me explain the levels. Red represents the beginner or amateur level. The amount of mana in your body is very low, so with this amount, you can only form a thin protective layer around your body. The next color is orange, which is denser than red, so your magical range increases. After that comes yellow, then green, then blue, purple, and finally white. That’s the order of mana levels. Most people in the world fall into red or orange levels, with only a few reaching purple or white. The four kings, along with me, have white-colored cores. But there’s also a legend about another color—black! According to scholars, if the mana inside the core exceeds a certain limit, a fusion process occurs within the core...”

“Wow, that’s so interesting, Master! Does that mean you’re that strong?!” “Yes, my little rascal—of course, that’s the only part you paid attention to!”

After continuous discussions about who was stronger, the lesson paused as playful Arian steered the conversation away. They both rested in their small room and woke up early the next morning.

During their journey, Zynarfil decided to review the map he had bought. Since it was cheap (five rants and three rents), it only showed borders and area names—nothing more. Zynarfil decided they would stay in the capital until noon and then head toward the Amurna Desert in the center of the continent. For this, they would need to cross the border of the Silanderin nation.