Year 732 of the Age of Azlan, late autumn.
Heavy, ink-black clouds hung low over the horizon of the Lotharen Plains like a tattered cloth soaked in ink. Leon stood atop the watchtower of his noble estate, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the cold stone railing. The wind carried an unusual burnt scent—different from the familiar smell of iron being tempered in the forge; this was sharper, more... ominous.
"Master Leon, it's time to return. Your mother is preparing dinner," said the old butler Foster from behind him, his voice gentle as always, yet tinged with barely concealed worry.
Leon didn't turn around. His eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon—where the proud "Sunset防线" (line), the kingdom's greatest defense, should have been. Instead, thick black smoke coiled into the sky like a twisted serpent, greedily devouring the orange glow of the setting sun. Three days ago, messengers had arrived at full gallop, warning of the防线's collapse (line). His father, the garrison commander, had left that very night with the knights to reinforce the front line. Now, the land they were sworn to protect was turning into hell.
"Foster," Leon's voice was dry and hoarse, "do you think Father will win?"
The butler paused for a moment before stepping forward and gently placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "The knights have never lost a battle, Master Leon. And the walls are strengthened by the Rune Masters…"
His words were cut short by a deep, rumbling boom from the distance—an unearthly sound, as if the sky itself were groaning. The watchtower trembled slightly, dust falling from the stone railings.
Leon spun around. In the western sky, a blinding red light tore through the clouds—not the reflection of sunset, but something far more terrifying. Within that glow, dark silhouettes loomed. They weren't like any known birds. Their wings stretched wide like the domes of castles, and their bodies writhed with tendrils of shadowy mist.
"What is that?" Leon's heart pounded, a chill racing down his spine.
Foster turned deathly pale. He pointed a trembling finger at the sky. "Black… Black magic… It's the Shadow Covenant! How could they have broken through the defense line?!"
The name struck Leon like lightning. The Shadow Covenant—a name whispered in tavern tales and nightmares—was said to worship the abyss, sacrificing humans to pursue the destruction of all order. Yet the knights had always dismissed them as myths. The Sunset defense line was supposed to be unbreakable.
But reality had just slapped everyone across the face.
The creatures drew closer. Fires erupted in the farmhouses below. Cries and screams drifted through the air—scattered, desperate sounds of panic and despair. Leon saw one of the monstrous beasts dive toward the wheat fields near the manor. Where its wings passed, green crops withered into ash, and the earth cracked open, revealing jagged black scars.
"Quick! Alert the guards!" Foster shouted, shoving Leon forward. "Take your mother and sister to the cellar! Hurry!"
Leon's legs felt like lead, but instinct drove him down the tower. The courtyard was already in chaos. Servants ran wildly, armed guards swung swords at the sky in helpless defiance. His mother, a graceful noblewoman, clutched her young daughter close, trembling with fear.
"Mother! Come with me!" Leon grabbed her hand and pulled his sister along. "To the cellar! Foster said it's safe!"
At that moment, a deafening roar shook the manor. Leon looked up. A massive black shape plummeted like a meteor, crashing into the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Water exploded outward, marble statues shattered into dust. It was a creature clad in black scales, its wolf-like head burning with eerie green fire. Its drool sizzled where it fell, eating holes into the ground.
"Mon... monster!" One of the guards screamed and charged forward, sword raised high. But when the blade struck the beast's hide, sparks flew and the sword skidded off without leaving a mark. With a single swipe of its claw, the guard flew backward, slamming into a wall with a sickening crunch. He didn't move again.
Fear surged through Leon like icy water. He had never seen such terror—beings beyond human comprehension, creatures born from the darkest dreams.
"Leon…" his mother whispered, tears in her voice, "run… don't worry about us…"
"No!" Leon gritted his teeth until it hurt, nails digging into his palms. "We're going together!"
He pulled his mother and sister toward the side door leading to the cellar. But before they could take more than a few steps, a chilling presence washed over him. Every hair on his body stood on end. He turned sharply—and met the glowing green eyes of the monster.
It had locked onto them.
"Roarrrrrr—!"
The beast leapt, claws slashing toward Leon's face. Instinctively, he shoved his mother and sister away and closed his eyes, bracing for death.
But the pain never came.
Instead, there was a dull thud—and the fierce, determined cry of an old voice:
"Master Leon! Run!"
Leon opened his eyes. Somehow, Foster had appeared in front of him, wielding only a pair of garden shears meant for trimming hedges, thrusting helplessly at the monster's claw. The beast roared and swiped at him. The old butler flew through the air like a leaf, slamming into a column. Blood spilled from his mouth.
"Foster!" Leon screamed.
"Run!" The old man shouted with what little strength he had left, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination Leon had never seen before. "Remember… the Shadow Covenant… blood must pay for blood…"
Before the words faded, the monster's claws pierced the old man's chest.
Time seemed to stop.
Leon watched Foster's arm fall limply to his side, the light in his eyes extinguished. He saw the blood dripping from the monster's maw—Foster's blood.
A wave of rage and sorrow unlike anything he'd ever known erupted inside him.
He forgot fear. He forgot escape.
All he knew was that his home was being destroyed. His family was dying. And the cause stood right in front of him.
With a scream filled with fury, Leon snatched up a broken piece of statue and charged at the beast.
The monster tilted its head in curiosity as the stone shattered harmlessly against its armored hide. Then, with a casual flick of its claw, it sent Leon flying backward. His head struck the stone floor, and blood clouded his vision.
As darkness crept into his mind, Leon saw his mother pull his sister into the cellar. He saw flames consuming the manor. He saw more shadows circling above like carrion birds celebrating destruction.
And he saw the monster step closer, its green eyes gleaming with mockery.
"Blood must pay for blood…" Foster's final words echoed in his mind.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
But deep within that void, a seed of vengeance took root—watered by blood, nourished by pain.
The catastrophe had begun.
And so did Leon's journey—one paved with thorns, tears, and fire.