After leaving Siracusa, Nerion walked beside Evelin and the Magical Beasts, the road to Ansem stretching ahead. His original plan had been to join a caravan, but after a conversation with Evelin the day before, that path had shifted.

  “You were quiet during our talk with the Marquis and the Brigadier,” Nerion remarked. “You’re usually more talkative.”

  Evelin gave a light laugh, adjusting her mask. “I didn’t have much to say. They were already nervous with Senior Brother Raven around. I think they were afraid of saying the wrong thing to me, so I decided to stay quiet. It was a little suffocating, honestly. But thankfully, Big Brother Nerion, you treat me the same, even though you know I have a Legendary escort.” Her smile was wide, but there was something behind it—something Nerion couldn’t quite place.

  Nerion’s gaze lingered a moment longer than he intended. There was a flicker in her eyes—something he couldn’t fully understand—and for a brief second, it left him almost frozen.

  “What are you looking at, Big Brother Nerion?” Evelin asked, her voice faltering. It was an innocent question, but there was a nervousness there. Nerion had never looked at her quite like that before.

  Nerion blinked, shaking himself from the daze. “I... I was just thinking. A poem came to mind.”

  Evelin grinned. “A poem? you know poems?”

  Nerion smiled back, a bit sheepish. “I suppose so.”

  He then recited the lines that had been floating in his mind. One he had read in one of the books given to Myra.

  “I know not what I wait for, Eyes,

  seeing how you treat me:

  For if you see me, you kill me;

  And if I look at you, I die.”

  Then… He looked straight at Evelin. This time, it was his own…

  “I love the beauty behind your black eyes,

  Big, beautiful and lost in a dream.

  Eyes that trap me in silent cries,

  that make my soul caught in a gleam.”

  Evelin blinked, her expression shifting from surprise to quiet admiration. “Eyes… Lost in a dream?” she repeated softly, almost in awe. “That was beautiful. Did you write that for me?”

  Nerion flushed a little. He had only meant to speak the poem aloud, but now that Evelin had mentioned it, he realized how personal it had felt. “I... I guess so. I didn’t mean to, but yeah, it’s for you.”

  Evelin’s excitement showed, her eyes bright as she smiled. “I love it! Poetry is such an amazing way to express yourself! You should teach me to write poems too, Big Brother.”

  Nerion chuckled at her enthusiasm, about to respond, when the wind shifted, sending a sudden chill through the air. A shadow appeared, moving swiftly, the form of a man emerging from the breeze. He was tall, with fair skin and striking purple hair. A third eye, vertical and closed, sat in the center of his forehead.

  It was Raven.

  Nerion immediately felt the shift in the atmosphere—an invisible pressure. The Beast Lord’s presence was overwhelming, like a force of nature itself.

  “Boy,” Raven’s voice cut through the stillness, deep and commanding. “You weren’t trying to flirt with my Junior Sister, were you?”

  Nerion stiffened, the weight of Raven’s aura pressing down on him. He instinctively lowered his gaze, but Evelin quickly intervened.

  “Senior Brother Raven!” Evelin’s voice rang out, cutting through the tension. “Are you threatening my friend now? I already forgave you for following me without asking. Now you’re picking on a child?” There was a playful edge to her tone, but it was clear she wasn’t letting it slide.

  Nerion looked up at Raven, his face carefully neutral, though inside, his mind screamed: He could feel Raven’s eyes on him, a silent challenge hanging in the air. The Beast Lord was testing him. Would he crack?

  Raven met Nerion’s gaze for a beat, then looked away with a faint grimace, shifting back to Evelin. “Junior Sister, you wound me. Master would never have allowed your journey without protection. And I aided greatly against that false god—you were never in true danger. Give me some credit. I'm not bullying the boy.”

  “Let it go, Evelin,” Nerion interjected calmly. “Without Lord Raven, we might not have survived the ruins.”

  Raven's frown eased slightly, reassessing Nerion with grudging approval. The boy's composure, ingenuity, and pivotal role in victory had impressed him.

  “You're not bad, boy. In any case, we must depart. Junior Sister, we've overstayed in Ansara. Master will worry.”

  Evelin’s expression softened, but she crossed her arms. “Fine, fine. You’re right. The must be worried sick. But you better promise me we’ll travel together more often, Senior Brother.”

  Raven's eye twitched at —only Evelin dared such familiarity with their master, spoiled beyond measure yet endearing in her fearlessness.

  “Brother Nerion,” Evelin continued, lowering her gaze reluctantly, “Leo should come with us. I know you wanted adventures together, but not everyone welcomes magical beasts. However, in my home, countless beasts roam. Strong and mighty, like Senior Brother Raven. Even stronger,” she said, raising her head, with a smirk.

  Raven seemed to ignore the jab at his prowess.

  “He'll grow far stronger there. You mentioned training with your brother in Ansem. When you're ready for new journeys, send word. I promise Leo will return mightier—perhaps even surpassing you if you slack, hehehe.”

  Nerion opened his mouth to protest, but Raven cut in.

  “She's right, boy. A Blizzard Direwolf draws danger in human lands. Even though Ansara is better than most other Territories, only Pet Slaves and such are allowed inside the city. He needs to leave in order to get stronger. The Forest is ideal for his kind.”

  Nerion paused, his gaze flickering to Leo, who stood quietly by his side. He had wanted to keep Leo with him, to train and grow stronger together.

  But deep down, he knew Raven was right.

  As for Leo, he was listening to Raven and Evelin. He was behind Nerion currently. He felt some instinctive trepidation towards the Raven, the reaction of a lower creature facing a much more powerful species.

  Leo felt like he could be killed with a simple thought from the handsome looking man.

  Nevertheless, he was not cowering or lowering his head. Even though there was some fear in his eyes, he kept looking towards the Raven and then to Nerion. His muscles were tightened. If the Raven, for some reason, wanted to hurt his best friend, Leo was willing to die with him and attack his opponent.

  Evelin and Raven looked towards Leo and understanding his demeanour, both were a bit surprised.

  “Interesting,” said the Raven with a slight smile on his face.

  Nerion took a deep breath.

  He turned to Leo, his voice soft but firm. “I support whatever you decide, Leo. You’re my best friend. I wanted you to come with me to grow stronger together. Now, it seems your chance came much earlier than mine, hehe.”

  Leo met his eyes, the flicker of doubt in his own gaze slowly replaced with resolve. The massive wolf nuzzled Nerion one last time before stepping away, walking to Raven’s side. He himself knew that if he wanted to fulfil his own dreams and help Nerion in the future, this was his best bet.

  Nerion’s heart twisted as Leo stepped away, but he knew this was the right decision. This was another goodbye, and one he had not expected to come so soon.

  Evelin, sensing the emotional weight of the moment, whispered, “You know, you could also come with us, Brother Nerion. You’d be stronger, and we could learn so much. It would be... fun. You wouldn’t have to be alone.”

  Nerion’s chest tightened. The temptation to travel with them was real, to escape the burdens of his mission and simply grow stronger in the company of many powerful experts. But in the end, his duty called.

  “That’s not my path,” he said quietly, his voice resolute. “I need to go to Ansem to find my brother. I can’t let my family down.”

  What Nerion left unsaid is that he was afraid. Afraid of being in a cozy place that made him forget his objectives.

  Evelin nodded, understanding, but there was a sadness in her smile. “Okay then. But you better write to me, or I’ll never forgive you.” Then, she said, “Ok… It’s decided. Little Green will go with you. She’ll bring me your letter when it’s ready.”

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  Nerion smiled back, the promise of their friendship clear in his eyes. “I will. I’ll write, Evelin. I promise.”

  “I’ll give you a lift, boy,”

  Raven extended his arm, and a sudden gust of wind picked up, swirling around Nerion. Before he could react, he was lifted off the ground, the world blurring around him in a rush of air.

  WHOOOOOOSH!

  “AAAAAAAH!” Nerion yelled, startled by the sudden speed.

  Little Green darted after, matching the flying Nerion. Her prowess in this regard was among the best for lower-ranked beasts.

  “Senior Brother Raven, why did you do that? You could have been a bit more gentle!” Evelin complained, her voice carrying through the wind.

  “He’ll be fine,” Raven smirked, his tone light, but there was something deeper behind it. .

  But then his expression shifted. His third eye opened for the first time in several years, glowing bright purple for a brief moment. It pulsed with an unsettling intensity. He grunted softly, and with a swift motion, the eye closed once more, a small drop of bright red blood dripping from it.

  Evelin noticed the change in Raven's demeanour. “What did you see, Senior Brother Raven?”

  Raven’s voice became more sombre, his usual playful tone gone. “Nothing... You know that as a Three-Eyed Raven, I can see glimpses of the future. It’s a natural gift of mine. But Nerion... he’s different. I can’t see anything when I look at him. His future is completely hidden from me.”

  Raven’s eyes darkened as he spoke. “I’ve been seeing this dark tide coming toward our world for the last twelve years, but I can’t find its source. I’ve tried... but Nerion? He’s an anomaly. I’ve never encountered anything like him.”

  Evelin frowned, understanding the weight of his words. “Nerion? Really?”

  Raven nodded slowly. “I think so. His future is a total enigma. But I feel it... something dark is coming. And you, little wolf,” he said, turning to Leo, “being with him might take you to heights unimaginable. That’s why I’m helping you.”

  Raven’s expression softened for a brief moment, and Evelin instinctively took a small step back. Something shifted in the air, a subtle pressure, as if the very atmosphere was bending to his will. Without warning, Raven’s form began to ripple, his silhouette expanding, as though the wind itself was feeding his transformation.

  At first, it was only a slight change—his body seemed to stretch and contort, his cloak billowing as his spine arched with unnatural grace. But then, with a low, powerful hum, the transformation surged forward.

  Evelin’s breath caught in her throat as Raven’s human form began to disappear. His fair skin darkened, his once-sleek hair turning into dark feathers that glistened with an almost ethereal sheen, shifting from deep violet to a rich, shadowy purple.

  In a matter of seconds, Raven grew, towering over her, his shoulders broadening and his limbs lengthening. His back curved as two enormous wings unfolded, feathers sweeping the air with a soft but resounding rustle. Each feather shimmered like obsidian, their edges gleaming faintly as if the night sky itself had been woven into his very being.

  Evelin couldn’t tear her eyes away, and Leo couldn’t help trembling beside her. The transformation was mesmerising, yet terrifying—like witnessing a force of nature take physical form.

  The air thickened around them, as if the very ground had acknowledged the arrival of something far older, far more powerful than the world itself could contain. A low rumble vibrated through the earth, echoing the beat of Raven’s wings as they stretched wide, casting a vast shadow that stretched across the land.

  The true form of a mighty Beast Lord.

  From his powerful-looking beak, human words came, “time to go.”

  Evelin climbed onto Raven’s back, and with one swift motion, Raven scooped up Leo with one of his massive talons. Without another word, the Beast Lord shot into the sky, leaving Ansara behind in a blur of impossible speed.

  After hours of helpless flight through the rushing air, Nerion finally crashed onto the summit of a high mountain, landing with a jarring impact that drove the breath from his lungs and left him sprawled amid loose stone and sparse grass. Bruised and aching, he lay there for several minutes, gathering strength until he could push himself upright, cracking his neck and dusting off his clothes with a rueful grimace.

  “Ugggh… He could have been a bit more gentle,” Nerion muttered, wincing as he cracked his neck and slowly began to get to his feet. “At least he didn’t send me into the home of some high-level magical beast... Otherwise, I’d have been someone else’s lunch by now.”

  Shaking off the pain, he looked around, taking in his surroundings. The mountain was high enough to give him a stunning view of the land below. Nerion’s gaze swept across the vast landscape stretching for miles. What he saw stole his breath anew.

  Cumulonimbus clouds parted like a grand curtain, allowing the sun's dying rays to spill across the land in rivers of gold and amber. Below stretched an immense valley carpeted in verdant grass and wildflowers that swayed as if in quiet celebration. The main road gleamed like a ribbon of molten metal, winding through groves of ancient trees where auspicious birds wheeled and sang in harmonious chorus.

  Yet nothing compared to the river that dominated the view—a majestic expanse of crystal-clear water rushing with untamed vigour. At its widest, the Argent spanned over four hundred kilometres, the broadest river known to Aeonia, its length tracing more than fifteen thousand kilometres from northern Ansara through the heart of the kingdom and into the distant Barbarian Lands from Murmur.

  Following its flow led the eye to the colossal Johanin Dam at the valley's end, a marvel of engineering that held back the mighty current. And beyond it rose the city itself—Ansem, capital of the Ancestral Kingdom of Ansara, fourth largest in the world, its walls and spires catching the last light like a crown upon the earth.

  Nerion stood in silent awe, the grandeur stirring something deep within him—a sense of destiny unfolding, of paths converging toward this shining beacon.

  Then the vision came.

  The parting clouds spiralled, light coalescing into a luminous stairway that descended from the heavens to touch the earth near the distant city. Along its steps moved thousands of ethereal beings, robed in silken white that shimmered with inner radiance. Many bore wings of mingled feathers, light, and gold, their forms exuding power that made Nerion's skin prickle with gooseflesh.

  For a moment, he believed he witnessed an assembly of Emperors and Saints—such was the authority radiating from them. Yet their number surpassed any gathering of mortals he could imagine.

  A voice resonated, seeming to arise from everywhere and nowhere, gentle yet vast.

  “Beautiful, is it not? Those are the Heavenly Hosts. They traverse the universe in service, assuming forms as needed. Creatures of surpassing power, guardians of the world of men, though bound by limitations you cannot yet comprehend.”

  Nerion's heart pounded.

  “Ego Sum...” he whispered, his mind spinning.

  The vision shimmered, flickered, and then disappeared, leaving Nerion standing alone on the mountain top, as if the celestial ladder had never existed.

  “No one can sense it unless I allow them to,” Ego Sum’s voice responded, calm and detached.

  “Are you reading my mind?” Nerion asked, a mix of awe and apprehension in his voice.

  “I told you I know everything,” Ego Sum replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. “There is nothing hidden from my eyes. Though humans do try to hide. It is in their nature. From the beginning, they’ve hidden, escaped, and blamed. Such complicated creatures.”

  Nerion could almost hear the sigh in Ego Sum’s voice.

  "Does that mean I can never keep anything from you?" Nerion asked, a touch of unease creeping into his voice.

  “Do you have any secrets worth hiding?” Ego Sum responded cryptically. “Remember, Nerion, I already know your heritage and the stone around your neck. I’m always with you. I promised that. I may not always speak, I may seem absent at times, but I’m always there. Watching, guiding, caring.”

  Nerion paused. He hadn’t expected that answer, but something about it felt oddly reassuring. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide anything from Ego Sum, but the weight of knowing he was constantly being observed could be... unnerving. Still, it made him feel strangely supported, like he wasn’t entirely alone in the vast unknown of his journey.

  “Can I talk to you whenever I need to, then?” Nerion asked the question playfully but laced with underlying curiosity.

  Ego Sum’s response was direct, yet comforting. “Indeed. I do not promise to always answer, but I am always listening. I’ve promised to guide you, to help you grow. And I’ve promised to make you face trials. You will be tested, refined, and hurt until you reach perfection. So be prepared, Nerion. In Ansem, your first trials await. They might not be what you expect. I will watch, and I will see... Your choices.”

  Nerion’s throat tightened slightly at the mention of trials. He had expected challenges, but something about Ego Sum’s tone made the idea of facing them seem far more daunting.

  “Trials?” Nerion echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "What kind of trials?"

  Ego Sum chuckled softly, the sound more like a low rumble. “Don’t worry, Nerion. These trials will make you stronger. They are necessary. They will test you in ways you cannot predict. But in the end, they will be crucial in developing your character.”

  As the voice of Ego Sum faded, Nerion stood still, contemplating what had just been said. He knew that this was just the beginning. Whatever lay ahead, it would shape him into someone very different by the end of his journey.

  Before he could dwell on it further, Ego Sum spoke again, this time more casually. “Ah, yes. I promised to teach you a new technique. You’ve learned the basics of the sword for your Master rank, but now, it’s time for something new, something I favour. It will still use your sword, but it isn’t quite a ‘ But don’t worry, you’ll find it useful. You’ve also got that manual from the Vainillas—make sure to read it, there are interesting ideas there. Keep practising and meditating. I’ll help you master the Free Flowing Fist, and once you’re ready, we’ll tackle your sword skills.”

  Nerion smiled, appreciating the guidance. “Great,” he said with renewed determination.

  “Any advice before I start?” Nerion asked, half-joking, half-serious.

  “Just be true to yourself,” Ego Sum replied. “Listen to your brother, but remember—just because you’re family doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything he says. You have that right.”

  Ego Sum said no more. The mountain grew silent again. The wind returned to being just wind. The sky, just sky.

  Nerion stood there for a long moment, staring at the place where the stairway had been. Nothing remained. No light. No trace. No echo of power. If not for the unease still lingering in his chest, he might have believed it had all been a dream.

  He exhaled slowly.

  “Trials…” he muttered.

  His body reminded him that he was still human. Bruised. Sore. Hungry. Tired.

  Nerion found a shallow cave along the mountain’s side and spent the night there. The stone was cold, the ground uneven, but sleep came quickly.

  Before dawn, he woke.

  As always.

  He began with the Free Flowing Fist

  Even after mastering them, he never stopped. Each movement was deliberate, precise, stripped of excess thought. Breath guided motion. Motion guided energy. Heaven and Earth responded, faintly but faithfully.

  This was his cultivation.

  By mobilising the Natural Energy through the Forms, his Qi and Mana grew steadily. Since leaving Radom and passing through Siracusa, his reserves had reached elevenLevel 22 expert

  He did not feel powerful.

  He felt .

  After the Forms, he practised his techniques. Fire answered his will more readily now, especially when combined with movement. Some attempts failed. Others surprised him. He noted them all.

  Then he opened the manual:

  

  He practised its basic movements until his arms trembled. Until thought faded and only repetition remained.

  When the sun finally rose, three hours had passed.

  Only then did he allow himself to rest.

  Later that day, Nerion descended the mountain and followed the land toward the Argent River. The closer he came to the road, the more people appeared.

  Carriages.

  Merchants.

  Adventurers.

  Pilgrims.

  Soldiers.

  Beasts.

  Thousands of lives moving toward the same point on the horizon.

  Some faces were eager. Others grim. Some hopeful. Some afraid.

  The full spectrum of human emotion flowed toward Ansem like a second river.

  Nerion walked among them, unnoticed. Just a boy, a sword and a road.

  He adjusted the stone at his neck and continued forward. Nerion thought, heart, quickening.