"The era of mankind is over."
KABOOOOOM!
A massive explosion of fire magic erupted, shaking the battlefield with a violent shockwave. Wind howled through the crumbling ruins, kicking up dust and debris. Buildings collapsed like sandcastles against a tidal wave of destruction.
The hands of a barely standing clock tower froze at eleven in the morning, but time no longer mattered. The once-blue sky was swallowed by thick smoke, and flames consumed the land, painting everything in hues of red and orange.
There were no signs of life—only silence, broken by the crackling fire.
Isaac stood amidst the ruins, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"Did you really have to go this far, Aiden?"
Aiden's figure was wreathed in flames, his expression cold, unyielding.
"It's the only way." He raised his sword, embers swirling around him. "Send my regards to the king, Isaac."
Isaac's eye—his only uncovered eye—searched for the friend he once knew. The one who had laughed with him, fought beside him, dreamed with him.
"Was this... all you ever wanted?"
Aiden stepped forward, his voice sharp as a blade.
"Mankind is a festering wound, and you know that better than anyone... murderer."
Isaac's jaw tightened. That word clung to him like a curse. His grip on his sword trembled before he exhaled, steadying himself.
"Then..."
The ancient blade on his back pulsed with energy as he drew it, its edge glowing with a fierce, untamed light. The very air around it warped from the sheer power.
"I will be the cure."
With a powerful step, he lunged. Their blades met—light against fire. A deafening clash echoed across the ruins.
---
Several Years Earlier...
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The rhythmic pounding of metal echoed through the quiet village. Under the bright morning sun, a muscular man hammered away at a glowing blade, sparks flying with each strike.
"Phew... That's the last of them," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
The house door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman stepped out, a cup of coffee in hand. She smiled as she approached.
"How's it going, honey?"
The man exhaled, stretching his sore arms.
"Just finished the last batch of swords the knights ordered. I'm exhausted."
He sat down on a stool beside the anvil and took a slow sip of coffee.
"How lovely," she chuckled, then glanced toward the road. "By the way, have you seen Isaac?"
The man placed his cup down.
"That boy? He left for Bara Town earlier than usual."
Her brows lifted slightly. "Already? He's never gone this early before."
The man sighed, shaking his head.
"You know the kid, Jen—always eager to do things."
Jen stepped forward, gazing at the village beyond.
"I know, honey... but I worry he'll get himself into trouble."
Bara Town was alive with movement. Merchants shouted over one another, haggling and calling out deals. Horses trotted along cobblestone roads, pulling carts stacked with goods. The air carried the scent of freshly baked bread, spices, and the faint metallic tang of the blacksmith's forge.
Isaac weaved through the bustling crowd, a slip of paper in hand.
"Two sacks of potatoes for Mr. Smith. That's right, yeah?"
The old merchant chuckled as he finished setting up his stall.
"Right on time as always, lad."
Isaac grinned, handing over the sacks before scratching the back of his head.
"You're welcome, Mr. Smith!"
Mr. Smith rummaged through his pocket, pulling out a silver coin.
"Here, for the delivery. And when you get home, send my regards to your Uncle Cyrus."
Isaac pocketed the coin and gave a quick salute.
"Will do!"
He continued down the street, his eyes wandering toward the various stalls. Maybe I should buy something...
Then—SMACK.
He collided with someone, both of them stumbling back.
"Oof—!" Isaac groaned, rubbing his forehead.
"Ah, crap... Miss, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"
The girl dusted off her dress, fixing a few loose strands of black hair behind her ear.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine—"
Then, she paused, recognizing him.
"Isaac?"
His eyes widened.
"Matty??"
Matilda blinked before letting out an awkward laugh.
"Oh, it's you. Uhh... hi."
Isaac grinned.
"Fancy meeting you here! What are you up to?"
She brushed off the last bit of dust from her dress.
"Just running errands. My mom asked me to pick up some groceries. How about you?"
Isaac groaned dramatically.
"Potato delivery, like always. Wake up, take potatoes, deliver potatoes—it's so booooorrrriiiiing."
Matilda giggled at his exaggerated complaint.
"Sounds like a tough life."
Then, her smile softened.
"By the way, the Knight Selection Exam is in two days. How's training going?"
Isaac's eyes lit up.
"Hah! You remembered?"
Matilda's cheeks turned slightly pink.
"U-uhh, I mean, you talk about it all the time! How could I forget?"
Isaac chuckled, rubbing his nose.
"Can you believe it? It's almost here! Even though I can't use magic, I know my hard work will pay off!"
Matilda smiled, watching the excitement on his face.
She remembered when they were kids—Isaac never stopped talking about it...
"One day, I'm gonna be a super cool knight! Just like the guy who saved us! Super strong punches, and BOOM—magic bolts! When that day comes, Matty, I'll protect you no matter what! I promise!"
Back then, everyone laughed at him.
"Cut the crap, kid. You're too weak to be a knight."
"A knight? Ha! You can't even control magic properly!"
"It's too dangerous. You'll just get yourself killed."
But Matilda never stopped believing in him.
"Earth to Matty, hello?"
Isaac nudged her shoulder, snapping her back to reality.
"You okay?" he asked, his eyes studying her.
Matilda blinked. "O-Oh, yeah! Totally fine!" She forced an awkward laugh.
Isaac gave her a skeptical look but shrugged it off. "Anyway, I gotta go. Tell Mrs. Jones I said hi—I miss her apple pies."
Matilda giggled. "Hehehe... will do."
Isaac turned away, weaving through the crowded town streets, heading home.
He passed rows of houses and a narrow alleyway, barely glancing at it—until a raspy voice called out.
"Young man..."
Isaac stopped. He turned his head toward the alley.
An old man sat slumped against the wall, his body frail, his beard filthy, and his face wrinkled with age.
"Were you calling me, sir?"
The old man weakly raised his head. His breathing was ragged.
"Please... help... old man..." He coughed violently, clutching his chest. His other hand gripped a wooden cane.
Isaac hesitated. "Are you okay? Do you need a healer?"
The old man's lips trembled. "No... I need you to find... an heirloom..."
Isaac scratched his head. "An heirloom?"
"Misty Forest... a dungeon... the heirloom is inside..." His voice barely made it past his dry throat.
Isaac frowned. "Misty Forest? I've heard of it, but I don't know much about the place."
The old man pulled something from his pocket—a small device, rusted and stained. It looked like a compass, but... something felt off about it.
"Take this... it will guide you..."
Isaac hesitated. The whole situation felt sketchy.
"No way this is real... Who even is this guy? And why does this feel like a setup?"
He sighed. "Sorry, old man, but I gotta—"
Before he could leave, the old man grabbed onto his leg.
"Please... I beg you..." His grip was weak but desperate. "I'll pay... two... no... three gold..."
Isaac was about to shake him off—but then he heard the number.
"Three gold?"
The old man nodded and weakly held out three shining gold coins.
"Yes... please... help me..."
Isaac hesitated.
"Three gold is three months' worth of work... Uncle Cyrus and Aunt Jen have been working so hard for me. If I do this, at least I can contribute something... Besides, how bad could it be?"
He exhaled sharply. "Alright, alright, you got me with the money." He raised his hands in surrender. "What do I have to do?"
The old man let go of his leg and slowly stood up, leaning on his cane. He handed Isaac the strange compass. It was old—definitely brass, but the color seemed... unnatural.
"Follow the arrow... it will lead you..." His voice rasped. "The heirloom... it looks like... a vase... Enter the dungeon... use the tool... open the door..." His coughing worsened.
Isaac shook the old man's hand with a confident grin. "Don't worry, old man. You can count on me."
"Thank you... young man..."
As the old man coughed, the compass flickered with a faint blue glow. The arrow inside shifted, pointing northwest.
Isaac pocketed the device and turned away. "Alright then, see you later, old man."
He left the town, following the compass.
Once he was gone, the old man's frail expression twisted into a sinister grin.
"Heh... what a foolish boy..."
A swirl of magic surrounded him—then, in an instant, he vanished.