A knight, a bearded man named Gareth, rode past the window. "Young master, why not take the teleportation gate in the noble district? It's faster, and we'd avoid the bandits near the port."
Eden, without looking up, replied, "No, we're going through the port. If there are bandits, you're here, aren't you?"
Gareth exchanged a worried glance with another knight. The capital offered two portals: the one for nobles, secure and fast, and the one near the merchant guild, in a seedy area controlled by the underworld. Eden had chosen the latter, a risky decision.
The carriage entered the dark alleys of the poor district, its wheels rattling over cracked cobblestones. The buildings, made of rotten wood, were covered in graffiti. Passersby, with gaunt faces, watched them from half-open doors. Suddenly, the carriage stopped.
"Why are we stopping?" Eden asked, closing his grimoire.
"Five men are blocking the way, young master," Gareth replied, his hand on his sword.
A fleeting smile crossed Eden's face, quickly replaced by his usual boredom. He got out, his boots clicking on the cobblestones. He had chosen this route on purpose, hoping for a confrontation. The slow, ostentatious carriage was a perfect target for bandits. A meter away from the men, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his black tunic.
"What brings you here?" he asked, his voice drawling.
A middle-aged man, a scar across his face, sneered. "Can't you see what we're doing, kid?"
Gareth intervened, half-drawing his sword. "Step aside, or—"
Eden cut him off, eyeing the bandits. "You're swordsmen, not too bad. Your auras are decent. You could be D-rank adventurers, earn money honestly. Or die here."
The leader of the bandits, furious, drew a rusty sword. "Hand over everything you've got!"
Eden shrugged. "You don't want to back down. Kill them."
Gareth, shocked, protested, "Young master, why not subdue them and hand them over to the imperial guards?"
In the theocratic empire, murder was reserved for heretics. Criminals were imprisoned, and killing, even in self-defense, brought legal trouble. Great families often ignored these laws, but it was risky. Eden, indifferent, brushed off the objection. "Never mind, I'll handle it."
He raised a hand. "Glacies: Plures Hastis!" Ten ice lances burst from the ground, each a meter long, their tips razor-sharp. The bandits, caught off guard, had no time to react. The lances pierced them, perforating chests, stomachs, and throats. Blood splattered, staining the ground. Two men died instantly, their bodies slumping, gaping holes in their torsos. The other three collapsed, groaning, blood flowing from their wounds. One tried to crawl, leaving a red trail on the cobblestones.
Eden observed the scene, impassive. He wasn't sadistic, but he despised bandits. Every opportunity to eliminate them was good, and he had never been caught. "They won't bother us anymore. Let's go, I don't want to be late."
Gareth, pale, stammered, "Y-yes... young master." The knights, shaken, remounted, and the carriage continued its journey.
---
On the Elven Continent.
In a small cabin deep in an unknown forest, a 16 or 17-year-old girl meditated peacefully in her bed. She was as beautiful as a goddess, with long white hair and blue eyes that contrasted with her rosy lips and ebony skin. Her demeanor and posture exuded arrogant grace, and of course, she had the pointed ears of an elf.
"I'll see my brother again after a year," she murmured. "I can't wait to challenge him. And Elisabeth… I hope the Dawnflares are ready. She's not on my level."
"It's time to get ready, Sahara." A distant voice seemed to come from the cabin, though she was alone.
"Hmm, already? I'll take my bath, Masters," declared Sahara, rising from her bed.
---
In the MoonShade Duchy, in the grand manor of the Noble House, a young girl discussed with her father in the parlor. She had short red hair, a perfect face, almond-shaped eyes, and a noble, confident figure. She was Scarlett MoonShade, daughter of Duke Renfild MoonShade.
"Father, I intend to showcase the value of the MoonShades. Those who might cause trouble are Kara and the crown prince, but I think Isra's faction can handle them," Scarlett said.
"Good. Your talent has already been overshadowed by Jaedan's. Don't forget he's only an ally for now; we'll have to dispose of him when the time comes. Don't dishonor the lineage. I know you're as skilled as Luxia, since you possess Anubis MoonShade's Berserk Axe," her father replied.
"I understand, Father. I'll do my best," Scarlett acknowledged, though she knew her father exaggerated when he spoke of Luxia.
"I'm counting on you."
Scarlett nodded and left the room with noble, elegant steps.
---
In the capital of the human kingdom, in the imperial castle, a 17-year-old boy dressed alone, without any servants present. He had long black hair and eyes as dark as an abyss. His slender, muscleless body was clad in a black royal outfit, unlike the usual colorful imperial garments. His handsome face with hollow cheeks was somber. He was Lucas von Arcadia, the second prince, often called the cursed prince.
A butler entered the room.
"Young Prince, His Majesty requests your presence."
"I'm coming," Lucas replied, his face weary.
---
"Here I am, Father."
Like the entire lineage, Emperor Rê IV had golden blonde hair and blue eyes. He also had a neatly trimmed beard and wore typical imperial attire. He exuded an elegant and powerful aura. He was, after all, supposed to be the most powerful human.
"Lucas, I worry about you. All these years, you've stayed alone in your room, not even wanting servants. I hope you can make friends at the academy, or maybe a girlfriend?" his father said with concern.
"You think too much, Father."
"As for your magic... I permit you to use it, but be prepared to face the consequences. Understood, my son?"
"I won't use it, Father," Lucas replied, his face still somber and impassive.
"Hmm, if you say so..." The emperor sighed and continued.
"I hope you can talk more with your elder brother and deepen your relationship. You're brothers... It's time—"
"I don't think so, Father."
"Goodbye, Lucas. Say hello to Leonard for me," sighed Lancaster Von Arcadia.
"I'll try, Father," Lucas replied with the same impassive expression, leaving his father worried.
---
Far, far from Arcadia, on the Alfuman Continent, stood the black castle of the Drakes. Its spires pierced the clouds, and its walls, carved from obsidian stone, absorbed the light. Inside, in the throne room with twisted columns, a young girl listened to her mother's final instructions.
The most powerful with the most feared lineage... of the Drake royalty, a young girl received her mother's final instructions.
She had long, luxurious black hair, like all Drakes, her sclerae were black, and her irises red. Of exceptional beauty, her white dress perfectly hugged her generous curves.
She would have resembled an angel from paradise if not for her slightly unsettling smile. Her name was Ingrid SetTertius, daughter of Sigrid, Queen of the Drakes. A race of Alfumans descended from wyverns, powerful magical beasts, apex predators in their time.
The queen was a larger version of her, but lacked the wild aura. She was smoother, and her hair was longer, trailing on the ground, with a curved horn giving her a demonic appearance.
"My daughter, you must go to the academy in the human kingdom. According to our information, someone important will be there this year. You must monitor their progress so they're ready in time for the problems ahead," her mother said.
"I understand, Mother. I'll do as you wish. But I want permission to—"
"Do as you please, as long as you don't deviate from the main objective."
"In that case, I take my leave, Mother," Ingrid replied with the same smile.