The legend of Granadil spread like wildfire after his resounding victory over the Lord of Darkness, Claridis. It wasn't just an ordinary triumph; it echoed the battle that shifted the scales—the fight where Granadil faced the dark lord and his followers single-handedly, without the slightest help. Since then, history has forever echoed the title "The Legendary Knight," a title locked behind the doors of eternity to describe Granadil alone.
Granadil's return to the House of Kasterlok was neither to celebrate nor to bask in his victory, but rather marked the beginning of a profound internal journey. Despite the crushing defeat he inflicted on Claridis, Granadil didn't feel victorious; there was a deep sensation ringing within him, questions he couldn't find answers to, and doubts haunting his sleep like ghosts. Instead of confronting them with the Senate, Granadil chose withdrawal—not just from combat but from everything that represented his previous life.
In a shocking move that shook the family's foundation and left everyone astonished, Granadil laid down his sword and embraced the hammer, beginning his journey into the art of blacksmithing. His vision went beyond merely crafting weapons; he aimed to extend the boundaries of resistance beyond his family by giving ordinary humans the chance to stand against darkness. Thus, he embarked on forging six legendary weapons, each imbued with extraordinary power. They were later named "The Sacred Treasures," all distinguished by a dazzling golden color with white streaks, giving them a unique and captivating appearance. He crafted them from gold mixed with "Enhancement Magic," magic that significantly increased the resistance and durability of these unrivaled weapons, making them completely unbreakable.
After Granadil completed these legendary masterpieces, he left only one as a legacy in the house of Kasterlok, while taking the remaining weapons with him on a journey to the continent of Xstras, the distant land he chose as his voluntary exile. There, far from the memories of his parents who were treacherously slain by Claridis, Granadil tried to leave the past behind, but its shadows were always close.
"Wait... is that all?" — "Where are the rest of the pages?!"
In the year 998 after the Great Eclipse, the history of the Kasterlok family—from its founding to the last line recounting the legend of the knight Granadil—was meticulously compiled. Historians and researchers worked diligently to collect this glorious history, drawing from various sources and references, to document this magnificent legacy that became a symbol of bravery and greatness.
Under a moderately tall tree, with large green leaves gently swaying in the breeze, a young man sat amidst the calm of nature, holding in his hands a brown book bound in dark leather, bearing a carefully etched title: "The History of the Kasterlok Family," the history of the family that etched its name in the annals of history with indelible ink.
Darken Silver, a nineteen-year-old with short black hair reflecting his simple appearance, and silver eyes radiating curiosity and passion, was seated reading the history of Kasterlok with unprecedented enthusiasm. His medium-built frame and practical, sturdy clothing mirrored a character that shuns extravagance in appearance. As he read the story of Krogal son of Extraloft, progressing to the final adventure where Granadil embarked with his five weapons towards the continent of Xstras—the very continent he now stood upon—his passion swelled, only to abruptly turn into anger.
With a voice filled with rage and disappointment, Darken exclaimed, "Twenty silver coins! I paid twenty coins for this book, only to discover it's incomplete?! That deceitful old man tricked me in broad daylight!"
On the continent of Xstras, the currency exchange system was divided into three main categories: gold, silver, and bronze. Gold coins were considered the pinnacle of the economy, with each gold coin equating to ten silver coins, and ten silver coins equating to a hundred bronze coins. Bronze coins were the most widespread, used in daily transactions, while silver represented the middle tier—a bridge between the wealthy and the common folk in terms of frequent usage. Gold, however, was freely used only by the rich, unlike those who struggled to collect just one or two pieces.
Darken paid two gold coins to purchase the book, a hefty price in a world where the value of items was precisely determined. Yet he found the book incomplete according to his perspective, leaving him deeply disappointed.
Darken sighed heavily and returned to sit under the tree, which seemed to silently share his confusion. He murmured to himself as he tried to think of a solution: "What should I do now? Should I sell the book at half price? But that would be a loss, wouldn't it?" His thoughts clashed like waves, searching for a way to lighten the burden of his sense of loss.
Leaning his back against the tree trunk, immersed in contemplating the situation, he went on speaking in a voice tinged with disappointment: "But maybe losing one gold coin is better than losing two. But... I mean... argh!! It's a loss either way! Damn it, I should have been more careful!"
In anger and exasperation, Darken tossed the book aside. He began nervously running his fingers through his hair until it turned completely disheveled—a mirror of the chaos that had seized his thoughts. As he attempted to calm himself, his attention was captured by the sight of autumn leaves dancing on the branches in the gentle breeze. Some clung tightly to the limb, resisting the rush of the wind, while others surrendered and fluttered away.
In that moment, Darken felt an unfamiliar sense of comfort as he watched this simple, natural scene. It was as if the leaves carried a silent wisdom—a message about resilience in the face of challenges, about loss, and how sometimes loss paves the way for a fresh start. As he focused on one leaf drifting with the wind, he mused aloud in a tone full of contemplation, "Will that leaf, torn from its branch, be forgotten? Or will it remain part of the memory of the other leaves that once clung together?"
"Are you thinking out loud again?" came a sudden, playful interjection.
The cascade of Darken's audible thoughts was interrupted by four gentle words, spoken in a warm and soft feminine tone. It was a young girl standing beside the very tree under which Darken sat. He didn't even need to look at her to know who she was; her voice was so familiar, as if it were etched into his memory.
Darken sighed and replied quietly, though his tone betrayed a hint of irritation, "What are you doing here? I already fed the horses this time; I haven't forgotten."
With clear sarcasm and a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she answered, "I came to check on you, you stubborn child."
Attempting to ignore her mockery, Darken responded with a flawlessly feigned indifference, "I'm not a child."
Despite his calm reply, inside he was boiling with annoyance. Harsh words raced through his mind: ' Go away!, you virgin woman whom no one wishes to marry! '
He was fully aware that if those thoughts ever left his lips aloud, the young virgin standing next to him would transform into a whirlwind of fury—perhaps even hoisting him by his feet on the very branch under which he sat. How would she do that? He had no idea, yet he was utterly certain of her capability, especially after witnessing her deliver a similar threat to someone else for a comparable transgression.
She spoke with a sarcastic smile, as if she could read his thoughts:
"You're a child in my eyes no matter how old you get—even if you become an old man. Anyway… you must return to the camp; Stannis wants to speak with you."
Darken Silver sighed once more and replied with the same nonchalance: "Alright, alright."
But she wasn't willing to accept that response. In a low, threatening tone laden with warning, she said: "Ahem! I didn't hear you clearly—what did you say?"
Sensing the danger, Darken Silver immediately adjusted his tone and responded in a louder voice, mixed with a touch of fear: "I will follow you directly!, my older sister Gina!"
At that, a lofty smile played across her face as she turned and walked away. Darken Silver exhaled with relief once she was out of sight, his shoulders visibly relaxing after a long, heavy sigh, before he reluctantly stood up and began to follow her steps.
Darken Silver was seated within a dense forest beside the camp—a woodland filled with trees transformed by autumn, their leaves having turned into brilliant ornaments scattered on the ground, evoking a sense of calm and solitude. After a short walk, he emerged from among the trees, treading on a soft expanse of green grass that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Before him lay the camp, set in an open clearing easily visible upon exiting the forest. Four tents made of dark brown, coarsely textured fabric were arranged around the perimeter of a small courtyard. At its center blazed a fire in a hearth carefully encircled by neatly arranged stones. Above the fire hung a semicircular pot suspended from the converging heads of four interwoven wooden logs, from which a light steam rose—signaling a meal in progress. Beside the pot, a woman attended to it with care.
The gathering was modest; only a few people were present. Among them, an older man sat prominently on a tree trunk split in half, positioned next to the largest tent. Beside him, a small child played inquisitively with a piece of wood, while a woman sat on the same trunk, quietly sharing in the scene.
Darken paid no attention to any other member of the camp; his destination was clear as his feet carried him straight toward the elder man. He greeted him with respectful dignity:
"Hello, Father Stannis, I heard from sister Gina that you requested to see me."
The man looked up at Darken, and although his gruff tone conveyed firmness, a hint of warmth seeped through his words as he responded, "Yes, there's an important matter I wish to discuss with you, young man."
This man, Stannis Cozkaper, appeared to be an ordinary resident of the camp. However, in the past, he had been a skilled mercenary—a man whose sole pursuits were money and fame, much like many mercenaries found across the world, both within and beyond the continent of Xstras. He retired many years ago after losing his left eye during a mission that nearly cost him his life. That loss became a turning point in his life. Later, circumstances led him to meet a younger girl named Iyara Friedar, who eventually became his wife and partner on a new journey.
Although Stannis had not yet reached forty, the long brown hair resting on his shoulders had already begun to show streaks of gray, particularly along the sides of his head. After his marriage, he decided to change his life's course completely; he no longer pursued money, fame, or notoriety but instead chose a way that was far more humane and beneficial. Driven by a desire to atone for the errors of his youth, he established "The Silver Family"—a sanctuary dedicated to orphaned children without families or a place to call home, making the Silver Family their new family.
The reason behind founding this family was deeply personal. Stannis himself had been orphaned, enduring a childhood filled with hardship and neglect that left a wound within him which never healed. Through this initiative, he aspired to become the father he never had in his own youth for those in need, while his wife Iyara—the originator of the idea—became the mother, together laying the foundations for the new family, the Silver Family.
Darken regarded Stannis, sensing the weight carried by this man who had once been an adventurer in search of his identity and now stood as a pillar for this small community—driven by love and regret to offer something greater to those deserving.
"Darken… I heard that you wish to join the Xstras Academy. Is that correct?" Stannis asked, his tone calm yet imbued with deep concern.
"Uh… how did you know about this?" Darken replied, his voice betraying clear nervousness.
At that moment, Iyara intervened, cutting through his hesitation with her firm yet gentle tone: "Gina informed us. She saw you writing your application for the Academy." Her gaze was focused—not sharp, but lacking the leniency that might have allowed him to evade the matter.
' That damn meddler! She's always sticking her nose into matters that don't concern her! ' Darken thought to himself as he tried to suppress his inner annoyance.
Darken found himself in an extremely tense situation. He couldn't lie to Stannis—the man who had rescued him from the depths of isolation when he was unwanted, and who regarded him as a son in every sense of the word. Stannis's gaze, a blend of firmness and affection, made any attempt at silence or denial nearly impossible. After a moment's hesitation, Darken decided to relent and tell the truth.
"Yes, I have submitted an application to join," Darken said calmly, avoiding eye contact as if trying to conceal his shyness.
Stannis looked at him with a gaze full of understanding and asked, "And which division will accept you in this manner? You know very well that the only way to join is to go to the Academy and undergo the official tests—and even then, you might not be accepted. Nevertheless, I see that you only submitted an application, as if that were a trivial matter." His tone was calm, yet beneath it lay clear criticism.
At that moment, Iyara interjected while looking at Darken, "We know very well that you want to join. But... as you can see... this isn't a slight against you; it's just that you do not possess anything that qualifies you for acceptance."
Stannis sighed before adding frankly, "I'll be honest with you, young man. You're a smart , and I bear witness to that. I believe you will achieve great things if given the proper opportunity to prove yourself. But as you know... the Academy's purpose is to nurture young talents in order to preserve security and stability in the kingdoms and the continent in general—and, in the worst-case scenario, to confront Claridis, the Lord of darkness ."
Smiling lightly, Iyara gently scooped up her little son in her arms and added, with spontaneous maternal warmth, "We don't want to stand in your way, but at the same time, we don't want you to make a poor impression on others. We don't want anyone to mock you, because you deserve respect."
Darken remained silent, his expression calm with no sign of emotion on his face. Yet it was clear that Stannis's and Iyara's words were entirely valid, and he had no retort to contradict them.
The Xstras Academy—the place that supports the dreams of young talents and hones their abilities—has always been, and still remains, the foremost destination on the continent. From its ranks graduate an elite group of fighters known as "the Vidres," entrusted with the mission of protecting the continent from any threat that may arise, foremost among which is the menace of Claridis, the Lord of darkness , who might one day return as unexpectedly as he did in ancient times.
Yet Darken, despite his ambition, possessed no exceptional ability. He had neither magic, nor extraordinary combat skills, nor superhuman strength. According to the Academy's standards, he was almost considered a failure—but that was far from the case for the members of the Silver Family, who held him in deep respect and affection. They respected him for his intelligence, for he was regarded as the second-smartest individual in the camp after Father Stannis himself, and they loved him because of a mysterious part of his past—one he stubbornly refused to reveal, no matter how persistently others pressed him.
"Darken, you did not follow up on what I told you. Tell me what you have— for I know very well that you did not submit this application ignorant of the true nature of the Academy." Stannis's voice brimmed with firmness and anticipation.
Darken hesitated for a moment, but then decided to confront the matter directly. In a clear, sincere tone he said, "In fact, I have already submitted an application. But I did not apply to become an academic student; I applied as a staff worker in the Academy's library." His eyes met Stannis's—as though to affirm the truth of his words.
At that moment, Iyara interjected with a surprised look toward her husband, saying, "Is there such a position at the Academy? I've never heard of it before." Her tone mixed curiosity with a hint of skepticism.
Stannis smiled gently, then replied to Darken's words with a tone of subtle admiration: "So you intend to enter through the narrow door, isn't that so?" He chuckled quietly before sighing and adding, "You prove your intelligence to me day by day, young man. I hope that Ladir will one day become like you."
Flustered, Iyara eagerly inquired, "What do you mean, my dear?" Her voice conveyed a mix of perplexity and a strong desire to grasp what was swirling in his mind.
Stannis turned toward her, his calm smile undiminished, and said, "Darken has chosen to enter the Academy in a manner entirely different from the others. He submitted his application as a library worker, and from there he can eventually become a student in a department far removed from combat and the battlefields. Isn't that so, Darken?"
Darken replied directly, his voice carrying a blend of confidence and gratitude, "That is correct, Father."
Stannis's smile broadened after Darken's response, and he gently extended his hand to ruffle the head of his little son, who was nestled in his mother's arms. The boy was named "Ladir," a name chosen in honor of his grandfather, Ladir Cozkaper. Then Stannis returned his gaze to Darken, who still stood before him in the same posture—somewhat hesitant, yet striving to maintain his composure.
"When I was a mercenary, the captain of the mercenaries would always say, 'The simplest solutions yield the best results.' I did not initially grasp its meaning, but over time… I came to understand it. And you, Darken, will understand it too." Stannis spoke with a tone imbued with the wisdom he had acquired through life.
Darken, always attentive to details and prone to deep thought, asked, "You have told me this several times, in various contexts. Yet…I still cannot understand it."
Stannis laughed quietly, his laughter touched with understanding, and replied, "It's because you overthink it. The solution is extremely simple—you just need to find the right way to comprehend it."
Darken attempted to absorb what Father Stannis meant, but his thoughts seemed to swim in a vast sea of deep philosophy—a sea that Darken found difficult to navigate. The notion that "simple solutions can yield the best results" was entirely contrary to Darken's approach, which relied on intricate branching paths and elaborate steps to arrive at answers. Nevertheless, he felt deep down that Father Stannis was right; there was simply no comparison between Stannis's extensive life experience and Darken's own, which was still fresh and in need of growth.
"I hope you get accepted, young man. And now I must rest a little before dinner," said Stannis as he struggled to stand. His movements carried a certain heaviness, and before he could steady himself, he added, "Dusk will fall soon. Do not stray far from the camp, Darken."
"Certainly su—" Darken began to reply, but his words were abruptly cut off.
Once Stannis was fully upright, he turned toward Darken and noticed a change in the young man's expression. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "What's the matter, young man?"
Startled, as if remembering something important, Darken exclaimed, "My book... I left it in the forest where I was sitting!"
Stannis smiled quietly, then, in a tone filled with fatherly care, said, "It's all right. Go fetch it quickly before dusk falls. The forest is dangerous at night, young man, so do not linger there for too long." With that, he quietly returned to his tent.
Iyara stood to follow her husband but paused at the tent's entrance to address Darken in a tone blending maternal love and concern: "If you do not find the book, then you must return and search for it tomorrow. Agreed?"
Darken replied with a slight, grateful smile, "Agreed, Mother..." and then departed toward the forest, determined to recover the book before the final rays of daylight faded into night.
Darken hurried into the forest, his heart pounding as he raced toward the spot where he had been seated earlier. The sun was setting; long shadows cast by the trees stretched across the ground, gradually disappearing. The sound of his footsteps on the dry leaves broke the eerie silence, yet his mind focused solely on one objective: finding the book before the sun vanished entirely, just as Father Stannis had instructed.
He reached the very spot where he had spent hours reading. Desperately, his hands sifted through scattered leaves and bent trunks, but there was no sign of the book. With each passing moment, a cold wave of anxiety gripped his chest. For a brief moment, he considered turning back, as Iyara had advised—believing he could resume the search in the morning.
Hesitantly, he turned to leave, but his body suddenly froze. There, directly behind him, stood a tall man in silence—as if he had emerged straight from the shadows. Darken hadn't heard his footsteps or sensed his presence. He didn't even need to see the stranger clearly; the dread in his chest was enough.
The man was cloaked in a black fabric that concealed much of his face, leaving only piercing eyes visible that exuded a terrifying aura and overwhelming presence.
"Are you looking for this, young man?" the stranger asked in a low tone that resonated deeply, piercing the very core of Darken's being. Slowly, he raised his hand to reveal the book Darken had been searching for, his eyes fixed on Darken in a manner that sent shivers down his spine.
Darken's face turned pale, and his knees nearly buckled beneath him. Inside, a conflict raged between paralyzing fear and the desperate urge to escape from this imposing stranger. His mind refused to think clearly; the stranger's words were so laden with gravity that Darken could not muster a single reply.
"I will give you the book, but you must do something for me. And unfortunately... you have no right to refuse," the stranger declared sharply. His words were not mere statements—they were ominous promises filled with peril.
The stranger's words shook Darken to his very core. The overwhelming sense of weakness grew as he stood before this unknown figure—a figure who, in the young man's eyes, embodied death, like a towering mountain blocking his way. Thoughts began to jumble: should he comply with the man's demand or search for a way out? But fear dominated every idea, freezing his movements and forcing him to confront this unknown terror with a deep, paralyzing helplessness that seeped into every bone of his body.