Chapter One: Origin

The cosmos gleamed, the celestial bodies turning.

At the edge of the universe, above that radiant dome, an endless void hung in the air. Beneath the dawn of clouds, ancient fragmentary worlds lay scattered among the stars—each shard a world unto itself. On these fractured realms, countless beings multiplied and endured: mountains rolled like tides, seas stretched for ten thousand miles. These fragment worlds formed the post-divine-war realm of living things, known as the Relics of the Gods.

“Hum~~~”

Suddenly, a scarlet radiance appeared at the edge of the starry cosmos, and immediately the hue of flame filled the sky-world. Beings from countless fragment worlds all raised their heads: the wolf clans in the mountains, the spirit deer by the streams, the humans within ancient cities—during the night, nearly every living creature watched that streak of light in the sky grow ever larger.

At last, when the brilliance reached its peak, a distant rumble of thunder rolled through the air, and flames braided across the night sky, forming a pair of enormous wheels that roared across the horizon. Blazing fire coiled around both wheels, and people even heard the crack of a riding whip coming from the heavens.

“Crack!”

The whip sound struck the ear like a lash against the soul; instantly countless people bled from their orifices and fell, rolling on the ground.

“Buzzzzzz~~~”

The sound in the sky grew louder and louder. Finally, with a tremendous crash, the heavens seemed to be torn open, and strange beams of light poured down like rain, cascading onto the fragmented worlds. Pale thunder rolled across the firmament, like the wrathful roars of gods and the faint, mournful sobs of deities moved to pity.

In one of those fragmented worlds.

On a mountain, a youth clad in coarse linen sat cross-legged. Threads of starlight swirled around him, his palms facing upward. At the junction between his palms and wrists, an ancient mark pulsed with an intimidating glow, brightening and dimming in time with his breath.

“Whoosh!”

A streak of blood-red fell through the sky toward the distant earth.

The youth suddenly opened his eyes. They were clear and profound, his brows knit; he rose abruptly, taking a single stride that carried him nearly a thousand meters to stand at the cliff’s edge. His voice, like a great bell, boomed toward the distant mountains: “The Gate of Heaven has finally opened once more…”

Above, blood-red clouds billowed, and strange sounds echoed—intermittent, like the beating of enormous drums. The far-off peaks seemed to be coated in a layer of black gloom. Waves pounded the shore, and threads of golden lightning converged. From the sky there descended a colossal being: a savage beast covered in ancient runes hurled itself down, roaring at the mortals below with the force of mountains crushed and seas set ablaze.

Atop the mountain range, the youth stood tall and unbowed, a clear light shining in his eyes as he sneered, “This time, it’s a Ninth-Rank Hell Dragon-Lion that escaped from the Sky Gate. Come on, beast—I’ve been waiting for you for three years!”

“Roar~~~”

The Hell Dragon-Lion threw back its head and roared, its blood-red eyes fixed on the youth atop the mountain, full of fury and defiance. Its tail swayed gently, trailing strands of demonic flame, an expression of utter contempt across its face.

Suddenly, the Hell Dragon-Lion leapt down, its talons sweeping across the sky. Black flames billowed as it charged directly toward the youth on the mountain peak.

“Good! “

The youth couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. His once carefree, unruly eyes hardened into calm. Silver radiance burst from his body in surges. His right arm suddenly opened, and he grasped a shard of golden ice; it instantly ignited into blazing fire, continually coalescing in his hand until it became a massive golden sword. He bellowed, “Heed my summons: Flameseed Artifact—Essingerwala Blade·Immortal Trail Sword!”

The Hell Dragon-Lion whipped its massive tail furiously, roaring without cease. Its blazing flames erupted continuously, whipping up an inferno. Beneath the fire, mountain strata crumbled, and the forest was struck by falling fire—an apocalypse had already descended upon the mortal realm.

“Roar!”

With that furious cry, the Hell Dragon-Lion struck again. Its body cut across the air as its claws slashed, sending out deadly wind blades.

“Break for me—!”

The young man raised the sword with both hands, leapt abruptly, and struck a blow at empty air. With a sharp “shing,” the blade’s keen edge seemed to cleave the very heavens, tearing open rifts of storm in midair. As the hellish draconic-lion was pushed back, a thunderous “boom” split the sky, and the massive mountain behind the beast was astonishingly split in two; earth and rock collapsed and were ground to powder.

“Roar—roar~~~”

The hellish draconic-lion erupted with fury and charged the youth. The air itself seemed to open into a vortex filled with destructive intent. The young man lashed out with his keen blade, unleashing a succession of thrusting lights. The two clashed above a mountain forest, and the pressure from these titans kept cracking the earth, toppling ranges and diverting rivers. What had once been a vibrant forest was transformed into a living hell.

The battle lasted a full three days and three nights.

Afterwards, no one knew the outcome.

Only, that mighty ninth-rank demon beast never appeared again, and across the Star Origin Continent people told legends of a powerful Seer who, wielding a fire-seed weapon, defeated a ninth-rank Hell Dragon-Lion over the ancient Asna Jungle, averting a calamitous disaster for the land. But that young Seer, like the Hell Dragon-Lion, never again appeared within people’s sight.

…

Time flew; in the blink of an eye fifteen years had passed.

Beneath the vaulted sky, the Star-Origin Continent still bustled with prosperity.

Between the mountains, mists curled and the lush woods lay tranquil. Slanting strands of evening light pierced the clouds and dappled the forest. At the foot of the hills, smoke rose in thin streams; simple wooden huts were scattered sparsely among the slopes. This was a stretch of woodland in the bitter northern wastes of the Star-Origin Empire, known as the Aier Forest, and its inhabitants were mostly hunters who struggled desperately to make a living.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Under a beech tree as thick as a bowl, a brown-skinned boy in coarse linen was practicing his punches. He looked about fifteen, feet apart, weight dropped low, swinging his bandaged fists again and again into the trunk. The bark had been beaten to pulp, and even the trunk bore inch-deep dents. With each punch he exhaled in a stuttering rhythm; sweat soon drenched his face, yet he did not stop, hammering the wood until the bandages were soaked through with dark red blood.

“Lorand!”

From a distance a beautiful woman approached. Her long hair was tied up roughly with coarse cloth; her features were finely carved, a sign she must have been stunning in her youth, though years had left wrinkles and spots on her face. Years of hard work had also roughened her palms. She carried a basket in her right hand, filled with green fruits—ingredients for making sweet jam.

“Mother……”

The boy named Lorant turned around, wiped the sweat from his face, and a brilliant smile spread across the features that had been strained by pain. He said, “Did you go pick berries again?”

“Yes, winter’s almost here. If we can ferment a little more sweet jam, maybe I can buy you more medicine to treat your wounds.”

His mother stepped forward, affectionately caressing Lorant’s still-youthful face. Her gaze then fell on his blood-streaked hands and she couldn’t help but ache with worry. Frowning, she reproached him, “Didn’t Master Aelko tell you? You mustn’t train too hard. Even if you want to pass the selection using your own physical strength… doing this will only ruin your health!”

“I’m sorry, Mother…”

Roland lowered his head, bit his lip, and said, “The selection exams are in a few days. If I don’t pass, I’ll be too old and will never have another chance to enter Ailan City’s academy to study. If that happens… I might never have the chance in my life to become an Awakened. I… I absolutely cannot disappoint Father…”

“Poor child…”

The woman gently stroked her beloved child’s short hair, her beautiful eyes fixed on the distant village, yet filled with an indescribable melancholy and pain.

…

Afternoon.

The mountains carried the fragrant breath of autumn fields; the little village felt exceptionally peaceful. A cuckoo kept calling in the distance, and the curly-haired yellow dog at the village entrance began to bark.

At that moment, the sound of hooves came from outside the village. A knight in armor, holding a sharp sword, rode into the village. He looked to be around thirty, with a head of curled golden hair; combined with his handsome features and a smile so devastatingly charming it could slay hearts, everyone here knew him.

“Teacher Ailco, you’re here.” an old woman pulling radishes from the field said.

Ailco immediately dismounted, crossed one arm over his chest and bowed, performing a standard Imperial knight’s salute, a gentle smile on his face. “Good afternoon, Madam Linda.”

“Good afternoon, Teacher Ailco. Have you come to see Loran again?”

“Yes, it’s time for lessons again.”

“All right, go quickly.”

Ayrco was one of Ailan City’s youngest grand knights and also its most handsome. Humble and gentle, with an attractive appearance and a killer smile, he had become the object of affection for the town’s young women. Ayrco was also Loran’s mentor, responsible for Loran’s trainee knight training.

…

“Teacher Ayrco, you’re here!”

“Yes, madam, where is Loran?”

“He’s waiting for you in the attic!”

“Good, I’ll go at once. Please have some fodder prepared for my warhorse.”

“Okay!”

With steady footsteps, Aierke climbed the attic step by step, and what met his eyes was Lorán sitting seriously on the floor, saying, “Teacher, today is the day you tell me about knightly swordsmanship.”

“Yes!”

Aierke chuckled, “Kid, I just saw the lady go out carrying berries. Is she still making jam for those rich people?”

“Yes.”

Loran pressed his lips together and said, “Mother traded jam for our living expenses, so… I need to get stronger quickly!”

Aelco rubbed his nose and laughed, “What a pity—I’m an incorruptible knight; otherwise I could have used part of my pay to support you!”

Loran couldn’t help but laugh: “Teacher, I’m already deeply grateful that you will teach me for free.”

“Alright, let’s begin.”

“Okay!”

The youth sat cross-legged, sitting upright and solemn, his youthful face displaying an indescribable seriousness.