"Felix is from my first novel — Heroes of Myth," Leon began.
His voice carried the weight of a storyteller unearthing a world long buried beneath dust and regret.
It was a fallen Western fantasy world called Arkinvale. A land once blessed by gods, overflowing with knights clad in silver, sorcery woven into the air, divine relics that could summon spirits, and heroes who carved legends into the soil.
But the gods vanished.
And when the heavens turned empty, the earth split open. Demons crawled from the cracks they left behind.
Without divine order, the world crumbled.
Nobles warred for territory like ravenous dogs.
Evil and demonic Churches bathed streets in blood in the name of holy purification.
Demons whispered into mortal ears, turning kingdoms to puppets and kings to butchers.
In that chaos existed nine Demonic Fragments—shards of the Prime Demon's Core.
Each fragment could twist a nation into madness or empower a tyrant beyond reason.
Everyone sought them—
to seal,
to control,
or to destroy.
Meanwhile, the Divine Relics of the ancient age still slumbered somewhere beneath the ruins of faith.
No one believed they existed anymore, yet each relic held the spirit of a forgotten hero—power that could challenge demons and gods both.
The protagonist of that tale was Reinhardt Galeon, once a disgraced squire with nothing to his name.
He found one such relic by accident and awakened a spirit that set him on the path to becoming the leader of an unlikely band: an excommunicated saintess, a barbarian warrior, and—eventually—Felix.
Felix back then was a fallen noble and flame swordmaster. His family, the Ignus, were famed throughout Arkinvale—masters of fire, swords, and battle.
Their blood was said to carry the flame of the sun and the spark of a phoenix.
"His father, Ardan von Ignus," Leon continued, "was a righteous man. Patriarch of the Ignus family."
Ardan was one of the few who dared stand against the Eson Kingdom, a realm that secretly colluded with demons for power.
He raised his blade against corruption, unaware that betrayal lurked behind him—not in Eson, but in his own homeland.
His own kingdom and its church branded him a devil,a traitor,a heretic deserving execution.
When the banners of Eson marched, the nobles of Ardan's own kingdom marched alongside them.
The Ignus estate burned beneath a hundred coats of arms.
Yet the Ignus did not fall quietly.
Steel clashed with sorcery, and flame soared high enough to scorch the sky. For a time, the Ignus held their ground even after being outnumbered, encircled, and betrayed.
Their end came not from them, but from the demon Vermus—second only to the Prime Demon.It was master of space. With Vermus's arrival, the Ignus household was erased in a single night.
But Felix survived.
He was 6 years old.
He survived by fleeing into a world that hated him and offered no hand to the fallen. He became a mercenary, then a blade-for-hire, then the dog of nobles who threw scraps of coin to broken talent.
He trained in secret—obsessively, relentlessly—creating Anti-Spatial Swordsmanship, born from his desire to kill Vermus, who wielded space as a weapon.
He joined Reinhardt's band late, but when he did, he fought with the fury of a man who had burned his tears to ash. Loyal, driven, tragic… yet not exactly the brightest torch in the cathedral.
In the end, the heroes gathered relics, battled demons, waged war against corrupted kingdoms, and sought to prevent the resurrection of the Prime Demon.
And demons were not the only threat.
Nobles schemed in shadows, churches conducted purges, kingdoms waged endless wars. Assassinations, civil conflicts, and atrocities became common currency in Arkinvale.
It was a desperate, tragic, mythic world where the path of a hero was not gilded in glory, but paved in blood and ruin.
"Heroes of Myth," Leon finished softly. "The story of heroes who bled for a world too broken to remember them.
If nothing else, the title deserved to sound like a myth."
Nox clicked his tongue. His gaze fell upon Felix—now standing here in their world, oblivious as ever.
"Tch… this guy truly has a tragic story…" Said Nox.
Nox folded his arms, staring at Felix as if he had just uncovered the world's saddest secret.
"So that whole tragedy… the demons, the nobles, the betrayals—You really wrote all that?"
Leon blinked. "Well, yes. It's good storytelling."
Nox jabbed a finger toward Felix, who was busy poking a fallen leaf with his sword like a curious child.
"That tragedy was unnecessary! You practically roasted this poor idiot alive before he even got to live his life properly! What a trashy story!"
Leon shrugged. "That's called character development."
Nox's jaw dropped. "Character development!? That's torcher."
Leon scoffed. "Readers love suffering.It Builds attachment and a connection between readers and charactors."
Nox's vein throbbed dangerously. "No! It builds trauma!"
Their argument escalated in volume and absurdity until Nox suddenly narrowed his eyes with a deadly accusation.
"And one more thing—just why…just why do you humans always make us demons the evil villains in your stories!?"
The forest quieted instantly.
Leon blinked once. "…Because demons are evil?"
Nox slammed a fist against the nearest tree. "We are not evil! We are morally flexible at worst!"
Leon considered it. "Flexible enough to destroy humans?"
"That's our nature!" Nox barked.
Leon raised an eyebrow. " Then is that Justified?"
Nox puffed his chest. " We can't do anything about that...because...because i can't help but hate humans!"
There was a pause.
Then Leon started laughing.
Nox started cursing.
Felix clapped as if watching a tavern comedy act.
A weak voice cut through the noise.
"Um… excuse me…"
All three froze and turned.
The archer still lay on the ground, tied up like a bundle of firewood, eyes wide and terrified, dirt smudging his cheeks.
"Who… who are you talking to?" he asked, bewildered and a little afraid.
Leon snapped his fingers. "Ah. Right. I forgot about you."
He walked over, dusting off his coat as if preparing to negotiate. He crouched down just enough to look directly into the archer's eyes.
"Hm… Kylus el Lysandreil, was it?" Leon's voice lowered, silk over steel. "Don't act like you're still a proud member of the Elven Royal Family."
Kylus flinched—so subtly it might have been missed by anyone who wasn't looking closely. His pupils trembled, throat tightening.
"…What do you mean?" he whispered.
Leon leaned in, a slow grin forming—a grin that promised no mercy and no lies.
"You act too much for an illegitimate heir who ran away from home."
Kylus's body went rigid. His ears twitched in horror, pupils dilating as if Leon had dropped an execution order instead of a sentence.
"H-how… how do you—!?"
The words strangled themselves before escaping.
His expression was half shock, half humiliation, and entirely betrayed.
Felix hummed thoughtfully behind him. "So illegitimate means…We can kill him right now?"
Nox buried his face in both hands. "Seriously...He does'nt know what illegimate is?"
Leon sighed dramatically. "He's someone who has only followed orders,so yes he lacks some knowledge. But that's because of the world he lived in."
Nox folded his tiny arms, hovering at Leon's eye level with visible annoyance rippling across his miniature face.
"That too is because of you," he accused.
Leon touched his forehead and let out a long, dramatic sigh.
"Yes, yes… fine. I'll accept the blame for that."
Nox jabbed a finger at him. "Then answer me properly— you know this archer's past, don't you?"
Leon's expression shifted, still irritatingly casual, but now with a sliver of seriousness beneath it.
"Of course."
Kylus lay tied up on the grass, trapped between fear and curiosity, his breath shallow. He did not dare interrupt.
Leon crouched down and used a stick to draw a line through the dirt, as though beginning a lecture no one had requested.
"Elves," he began, "are peculiar in many ways.
Graceful in conduct, refined in speech, and exceptionally attuned to nature.
They live long lives, form deep bonds, and view the world with a perspective we humans barely understand.
To them, spirits are companions— sometimes troublesome, sometimes wise, but always present."
Kylus cleared his throat softly. "…That is, admittedly, more accurate."
Leon continued as if he hadn't heard him.
"Their homeland, the Silvaris Kingdom, rests on the third continent."
A realm embraced by ancient forests, rivers older than empires, and mountains layered in eternal mist. Peaceful. Quiet. Preserved."
Nox nodded. "Yes i know"
Leon smiled faintly. "The silvaris kingdom,The Domain of such elves lies near the Auric Empire.
Relations between them are… polite, but distant. To them Humans are too impatient, too loud, and too fond of building over things elves prefer to listen to."
Then he tapped five neat dots into the dirt.
"And at the summit of Silvaris stand five great noble houses— Lysandreil, Vyrnith, Thalor, Eldarion, and Miriel."
Kylus winced slightly at his own family's name, but remained silent.
Nox tilted his head. "Hold on. Royal houses? As in— more than one? Who gets to be king then?"
Leon's grin widened— the grin of someone who enjoyed being the sole keeper of answers.
"That," he declared, "is where elven politics becomes fascinating."
He wiped the ground clean with his sleeve and redrew the marks— five circles orbiting a single larger one.
"Elves do not believe leadership should be inherited by blood alone. Nor seized by conquest. They believe a ruler should be chosen by wisdom, merit, and— most importantly— spiritual harmony."
"Spiritual harmony?" Nox repeated.
Leon nodded. "The Spirit King— a high spirit bound to Silvaris— observes the five houses. When a century passes, or when the reigning monarch leaves for further enlightenment—"
"Enlightenment?" Nox echoed skeptically.
Leon smirked. "Elf terminology for avoiding paperwork."
Kylus' cheeks colored. "It is more than that…"
Leon continued without pause.
"The Spirit King selects a sovereign from among the five houses. That chosen ruler becomes the High Monarch."
Nox hovered closer, intrigued. "So the others just… step aside?"
"No," Leon said. "They form the Council of Verdant Courts. Five seats— one for each house.
The High Monarch governs, but the council manages internal affairs, diplomacy, education, and military conduct. Power is shared to ensure stability and prevent tyranny."
Leon sighed and said. "In this way they are a bit better.Humans crown one king and solve disputes with wars. Elves do it with meetings. I respect that."
Kylus nodded faintly. "War is wasteful. Paper is cheaper."
Leon glanced at Kylus. "Practical as ever."
Then Nox floated closer to the bound archer, studying him.
"So then, Mister Illegitimate Runaway… where did you go wrong in this elegant species of yours?"
Kylus' jaw tightened— pride, shame, and memory all twisting together.
Leon twirled the stick once between his fingers, as though signaling a shift in tone.
"And that," he said calmly,
"is where things become interesting."
Leon's voice lowered, ready to peel back the past like a dusty page.
"Kylus El Lysandreil… illegitimate child of—"
He abruptly stopped midsentence, eyes widening as if struck by lightning.
"Wait."
Silence swelled. Nox blinked.
Leon pointed at Kylus, almost offended at his own discovery.
"Kylus— you can see Nox!?"
Kylus blinked once, then twice.
"You mean that… black thing?"
Nox's tiny wings froze mid-flutter. "Black thing!?"
Kylus continued, entirely unbothered.
"Well, you were talking to thin air for quite a while. It looked concerning, so I used my cursed eyes to check if you were insane or not… and there was really someone there."
Nox floated down until he was eye-level with the bound elf, scowling in miniature.
"And what do you mean by 'black thing'? I am a Demon Emperor."
Kylus stared back. "Demon Emperor…You look like a fuzzy goat spirit with horns."
Leon finally shook the shock out of his system, straightening his coat as if the world had suddenly started making sense again. A slow grin curved onto his lips— not mocking, but deeply intrigued.
"As expected…" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "I knew his ability was strong… but to think it could even see Nox."
Nox pointed at himself, tiny horns twitching. "What ability?"
Leon turned toward him, the grin sharpening into something far more serious than the mood allowed.
"The very thing that made him a Outcast," he said. "It was the reason he was tormented and feared by his own people."
Kylus's breath hitched— barely noticeable, but unmistakable. He didn't look away, but his fingers curled ever so slightly against the ropes.
Leon lowered his voice, almost reverent.
"The eyes that should never have opened."
Nox blinked, wings faltering. "What eyes?"
Leon tapped his own lower eyelid, pupils dilating with fascination.
"THE CURSED EYES"