The sound of rain pattering on the eaves created a quiet and steady melody. The pale gray light of the early morning filtered through the steamy window, casting a layer of dim light on the walls. The entire room was immersed in silence, only the sound of falling rain and steady breathing could be heard.
Flauros moved slightly, his heavy eyelids opened slightly, revealing blood-red eyes that were still a bit sluggish from yesterday's aftermath. The cold feeling from the humid air made him blink a few times, his hand habitually reaching up to stroke his slightly messy hair.
The smell of damp soil mixed with the scent of burning wood from the fireplace in the corner of the room created a comfortable but somewhat gloomy atmosphere. He sat up, revealing his bare shoulders and the deep scars on his skin. The cold morning air made his body shiver slightly, but he quickly ignored that feeling, reaching for the black cloak hanging on the chair and putting it on.
Outside, the rain showed no signs of stopping. The drops of water on the window ran down in long streams, reflecting his silhouette, finished cleaning himself, and wrapped a black and white striped scarf around his neck. Flauros took a few necessities and went downstairs.
The space was filled with warm yellow light from the oil lamps hanging from the heavy wooden beams. The rough stone walls were covered with the stains of time, and a few animal skin rugs were spread across the dark wooden floor, absorbing the sounds of noisy conversations. The air here was filled with the smell of wine, cigarette smoke, and the rich aroma of the dishes that had just been brought out.
The long oak bar was in the center, behind which were shelves filled with colorful wines, reflecting the flickering light from the fire in the large fireplace. The owner, a middle-aged man with a bushy beard, was wiping a ceramic cup with a rough cloth, his experienced eyes scanning the diners.
Flauros walked down the wooden stairs leading from the upper floor. The stairs were a bit old, and each step made a gentle creaking sound, as if in tune with the sound of the rain falling outside. The dark wooden handrail, its surface polished by time, led him down the steps.
From above, he could see the entire bar. Travelers in wet cloaks were gathered around the fireplace, trying to warm their cold hands. A group of mercenaries sat in the corner, laughing and drinking large mugs of beer. Near the window, a man in a black cloak bowed his head, silently holding a glass of wine in his hand, his eyes hidden under his hood seemed to be observing everything.
Flauros walked down the last step, his eyes sweeping over the surrounding scenery, assessing everything he saw. Today was a rainy day, but the inn was still full of people.
'What an inn in the center of town, quite crowded, huh?'
Flauros had just stepped down the last step, before he could find a hidden corner, when a clear voice rang out right next to him.
"Good morning, sir!"
He turned around and saw a young girl with reddish-brown hair tied loosely behind her back, her green eyes shining like two precious stones. She put her hands on her hips, smiling brightly as if she had just discovered something interesting.
"You must be the one who rented the room on the third floor last night, right?" She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You don't look like a normal merchant or traveler."
Flauros was silent for a moment, his sharp gaze sweeping over the girl. She was not the least bit intimidated by his aura, which was quite rare.
"So, who do you think I am?" Flauros's voice was hoarse, filled with indifference.
Elara crossed her arms, tilting her head in thought. "Hmm… Not a merchant, since no one wears a black cloak and walks like a ghost in a tavern like this. Not a noble, since you don't have any followers… So you can only be a vagabond or a mercenary."
She raised her eyebrows, resting her hands on the table. "But you don't seem like someone who only takes jobs for money. How mysterious!"
Flauros curled his lips slightly, not sure if it was mockery or amusement. "So what do you intend to do with that statement?"
Elara laughed, resting her hand on her chin. "Nothing. I'm just curious. This inn is my home after all, and I have a habit of getting to know interesting guests."
She winked mischievously, then pushed a cup of warm honey water towards him. "It's cold and rainy, have something to warm you up. It's free, as a welcome gift!"
Flauros looked at the cup, then looked back at the girl. Elara didn't seem afraid of him—in fact, she seemed more interested in his presence than usual. What a strange girl. But still, a little honey wouldn't be a bad idea on a cold, rainy morning like this.
He quietly picked up the cup of water and took a sip. Elara chuckled, then turned and walked away, continuing her work.
Flauros set the empty cup down on the table, the sweet liquid still lingering in his throat, bringing a gentle warmth. He glanced out the window, and the rain was still falling lightly, small streaks of water running down the frosted glass.
He pulled up his cloak's hood, stood up, and walked to the door. The bronze bell hanging on the doorframe rang softly as he left the inn, blending into the damp, rainy morning air.
Flauros walked through the light rain, the drops of water not touching him as a layer of heat covered him like a protective barrier. Despite the damp weather, the morning air was still pleasant, at least to him.
There was no sign of the police or anyone suspicious of the battle last night. He had been very careful when leaving, and it seemed that the rain had erased most of the remaining traces. However, he was not careless, once he got involved with the forces in the dark, there was always someone watching without his knowledge.
Leaving the main street, he headed towards the center of the town. In the middle of the gray stone square, a large sign stood upright, worn by time and weather to the point that the inscription on it had faded somewhat.
[Center of Xithern Town.]
[North: City Gate & Grand Market.
South: Desert View.
East: Residential Area & Church.
West: Ancient Magic Academy (Closed).]
He skimmed through the words, his eyes stopping at the last line.
Ancient Magic Academy.
A place that had been closed for a long time, but contained many mysteries that he had heard of. If there was any place that kept documents related to mysterious entities like the one he fought last night, then perhaps it was this place.
Flauros lightly touched the wooden board soaked in rainwater, thinking for a long time. He didn't have much time to waste, going there would probably be very useless.
He lowered his hand, turned around, and left the center of town. If there were someone following him, then that person would be observing his every move right now. And him—Someone who could arrange everything so perfectly, how could he have easily let Flauros get hold of the information like that?
'It's a trap after all.'
'Above all, I want to go there. And I have to pay back the grudge from that year before I go, there's no need to get involved with them.'
He didn't want to get into new debt when the old grudge hadn't been paid, but his enemy didn't want to.
In the dark forest, where sunlight could hardly penetrate the dense canopy of trees, an ancient tower covered in vines and ruins of time stood tall in the heart of the forest.
Inside the main room of the tower, green candles burned weakly, emitting an eerie, dim light. The space was filled with cold air, reflecting the flickering shadows on the old gray stone wall.
In the middle of the room, a round table surrounded by five magical spheres floated, rotating slowly in the air. They were like eyes that never closed, constantly observing the outside world.
Standing in the middle of that mysterious scene was a tall figure wearing a long black cloak that reached to the ground. His platinum hair fell to his shoulders, but his face had a frighteningly youthful look. His eyes were deep, flashing with an eerie light as they passed over the orbs that projected images from distant lands.
Among the five orbs, one was reflecting the image of a man in a red cloak, standing in front of a large sign in the center of Xithern town, Flauros.
The legendary black mage tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into an unfathomable smile.
"The sacred fire of Flauros..."
His voice rang out, hoarse but carrying a strange power, as if just one word from him could bring bad luck to this land.
He extended a bony hand towards the orb, his fingertips drawing magical symbols in the air. For a moment, the image in the sphere wavered, as if he were trying to penetrate deeper into Flauros' existence.
"You've gone too far..."
His eyes stopped, following Flauros as he turned to leave the center of town. He didn't realize that there was a gaze following him from afar.
The black mage chuckled, his voice low and like a curse.
"The paradise you seek..."
He reached out and grabbed an ancient talisman, squeezing it tightly in his palm. The talisman immediately burned with a strange blue flame, then turned to ashes in an instant.
"You will never be able to touch it."
The magic room was bathed in an eerie blue light, and the lines of the magic circle on the stone floor emitted flickering rays of light, like living snakes wriggling. At the center of the magic circle was a tall figure with pale skin and eyes that were not yet fully opened. Heavy breathing emitted from it, carrying the oppression of an entity that had just returned from the dead.
The legendary black mage stepped closer, his slender hand reaching out, lightly brushing through the air right in front of the face of the newly revived person. A black smoke spread out, seeping into every fiber of its body.
"Open your eyes, descendant of the Dragon Clan."
The giant eyes slowly opened, golden light burning in the dragon's pupils. But instead of the arrogance or strength of the species that once ruled the sky, that gaze was empty like a soulless puppet.
"Siegfried, you were once a great man of the Dragon Clan... But now, you are just a tool."
The dark mage's voice was low and authoritative. He turned around, his sharp eyes sweeping over the servants kneeling on the ground.
"I have a mission for you."
His subordinates waited silently, not daring to breathe loudly.
He raised one hand, and in his palm appeared the image of a kingdom surrounded by towering walls - Ozone, the kingdom of magic. A rich and orderly place, but also the place where Flauros would set foot in the next few days.
"You will lead my army. Bring the remnants of the Dragon Clan to the Ozone kingdom and destroy it."
He smiled coldly.
"Flauros... do you think you can easily advance to your paradise?"
He knew very well that Flauros was not someone who could be easily destroyed. One of the five holders of forbidden magic, the only sacred flame that could reach heaven. And he also knew, if Flauros reached the heavens, everything in this world would collapse.
But this trial was not to kill Flauros.
"I just want to see..."
He turned to look at Siegfried, who had just been resurrected but was completely under his control. A great warrior of the Dragon Clan, now just a puppet that obeys his orders.
"... see if you can survive this battle."
As soon as he finished speaking, the magic circle lit up again. Each of the servants received the order, preparing for a massacre. A nightmare was about to descend upon Ozone. And Flauros, he would have no choice but to face the coming disaster.
A figure stood not far away, right next to the dark magician, right behind the one called Siegfried, another figure also stood there, silent like a soulless statue.
He was tall, his once regal demeanor had now become strange as he was like a living statue without any emotions. Black hair with a few red streaks, two-toned eyes as lifeless as still water.
He was Cross, the prince of the Dragon Clan.
He was also the one that Flauros had sworn to kill, even if it meant death to avenge his past.
The black mage glanced at him, a cold smile on his lips.
Flauros walked slowly along the cobblestone street, where the small market was bustling in the sunlight that reflected off the wooden awnings. The damp air of the morning rain still lingered in every corner, but it could not stop the locals from busying themselves with their business.
Small stalls were set up close together, each with a colorful canvas roof. The constant cries of wares were accompanied by the scent of freshly baked bread, dried herbs, and a hint of oriental spices.
Flauros did not hurry. He walked slowly, his eyes scanning the wares displayed on the old wooden counter.
He stopped in front of a herbal counter, where a small old woman was diligently sorting through each bag of medicinal powder. His hand flipped through several bags of herbs, selecting a few that would restore physical strength and relieve the symptoms caused by forbidden magic.
"Bring me this."
The old woman looked up at him for a moment, but did not ask any further questions. She just carefully wrapped up the things and handed them to him after receiving the money.
Flauros continued, stopping at a stall selling dried bread and provisions. He picked up a few loaves of hard bread, some dried meat, and dried fruits that could be preserved for a long time. Simple but essential items for a long journey.
After gathering all the necessary things, Flauros turned and left the market. His steps were steady but still cautious. The journey ahead was still long, and he did not want to leave too many traces here.
Flauros left the market, walking slowly through the cobblestone streets still wet from the morning rain. The sunlight peeked through the wooden roofs, reflecting off the pavement in sparkling streaks. He paid no attention to the peaceful scene and just quietly walked towards the inn where he was staying.
When he reached the inn's door, he pushed the door open and entered. The warm air inside contrasted with the chill outside. A few customers were still sitting at the bar on the first floor, but Flauros paid them no attention. He silently walked up the wooden stairs, the steps creaking slightly under his weight.
When he entered his room, he locked the door and walked straight to the bed, where a tattered red cloak was draped casually over the back of a chair. He took off his coat, put the bag he had just bought on the table, and began to check his luggage again.
The magic spear was still neatly placed in the long box, and the remaining recovery potions were carefully placed in a leather bag. He packed up his spare cloak, some bandages and herbs, and the newly purchased provisions.
Every move he made was careful, as if this was not simply packing, but also preparing for an inevitable battle.
After finishing arranging, Flauros put on his cloak again, fastened his belt, and checked his weapons one last time. He glanced out the window at the still gray sky, signaling that another rainstorm could come at any moment.
He clenched his fists, then took a deep breath. It was time to leave.
Flauros tightened his grip on the leather bag at his waist, checking everything one last time before leaving the room. The wooden door creaked slightly as he opened it, then closed it firmly behind him.
He continued to maintain his usual composure as he walked down the wooden stairs leading to the first floor. Each heavy step echoed in the space of the inn, where a few guests were still sipping their morning wine. The firelight from the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, and the smell of burning wood mixed with the faint smell of alcohol.
When he reached the counter, Flauros placed a small bag of money on the table. The innkeeper, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and sharp eyes, glanced at him for a moment, then picked up the bag, feeling its weight before nodding in satisfaction.
"No change needed," Flauros said shortly.
The innkeeper shrugged, giving a meaningful look but said nothing more. However, his daughter, the energetic young woman, Flauros, who had met this morning, could not keep quiet.
"Leaving so early?" She leaned her hands on the counter, watching him curiously. "People like you are hard to find. I thought you would stay a few more days."
Flauros only glanced at her, but did not reply.
"That's good." She shrugged, then smiled. "Good luck on your journey, though I don't think you're the type to need luck."
He smirked slightly, as if in acknowledgement, and turned to walk out.
The wooden door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a damp street after a morning rain. A chill hit his face as he stepped out of the inn.
Flauros pulled up his cloak, walking through the relentless rain. Raindrops fell on the muddy ground, forming small puddles that reflected the gray light of the sky. The air was damp, carrying the scent of soaked earth and grass, mixed with the faint scent of wildflowers that dotted the path.
The path leading north was a gravel path that ran along wild fields. On both sides of the path, tall trees rose, their leaves swaying in the gentle breeze, causing the rain to fall in sparkling drops. At times, the wind grew a little stronger, blowing his cloak, carrying a biting cold.
In the distance, gently sloping hills appeared in the mist, covered with green moss and clumps of pale purple flowers. Small streams threaded between the rocks, the water flowing like the melodies of nature. Sometimes, he could hear the soft chirping of birds amid the rain, or the sound of a deer wandering on rotten leaves.
He continued walking, his boots sinking deep into the mud, leaving faint footprints behind. A small wooden bridge appeared ahead, spanning a clear stream. Flauros paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the water, which was rippling from the falling raindrops. A few small fish swam below, reflecting a faint silver light.
After crossing the bridge, the path became narrower, winding between moss-covered rocks. Here, the air was a bit quieter, only the sound of his footsteps mixed with the sound of rain and wind.