Night had wrapped the wilderness in its thick, suffocating darkness.
Far from the bustling chaos of Orario, far from civilization's walls, there was only silence occasionally broken by the tireless choir of night insects that never seemed to get tired.
Giant trees towered high like pillars of some natural cathedral, their thick branches creating a dark canopy that hid the stars above.
The only source of light in all that darkness was a crackling campfire, its flames dancing wildly as they threw swaying shadows in every direction.
Above the fire, a massive python...
nearly ten meters long, was being roasted.
Its meat hissed and let out a strong aroma that mixed with the wood smoke.
Next to the campfire, a burly man was tearing off a piece of grilled snake meat with his bare hands.
Every bite sounded like someone who was genuinely starving—no table manners, just primitive instinct to eat.
Across from him, a wild boar the size of a cart was doing the same thing, chewing greedily while its sharp tusks gleamed in the firelight.
When the man leaned back to catch his breath for a moment, the campfire's glow illuminated his broad back and shoulders.
There, carved in thick black ink, was a striking tattoo: a snake eating its own tail, forming a perfect circle.
The tattoo seemed to move like it was alive every time his muscles contracted.
If Kaen had been there at that moment, his heart would've stopped beating.
That tattoo...
was almost identical to the one his mysterious cellmate, Zagan, had.
The night's silence was suddenly shattered by the sound of heavy wingbeats.
A large raven descended from the dark sky and landed casually on the man's head, like that was its usual perch.
In its beak was a scroll of paper tied neatly with a red ribbon.
The man, without showing the slightest bit of surprise, raised his hand and took the scroll.
His big, rough fingers untied the ribbon with surprisingly gentle movements. The paper was unfolded, and his sharp eyes began reading its contents.
The writing on the paper was bombastic and full of capital letters:
ATTENTION ALL TOUGH FIGHTERS AROUND THE WORLD!
ARE YOU TIRED OF BEATING THE SAME OLD GOBLINS? DO YOU FEEL LIKE YOUR LIFE LACKS DRAMA AND GRANDEUR?!
I, THE MAGNIFICENT GANESHA, CALL UPON YOU!
For the glory of Orario and to entertain the gods who are starting to doze off from boredom, GANESHA FAMILIA PROUDLY PRESENTS...
THE ORARIO PEAK TOURNAMENT!!!
BATTLE OF THE STRONGEST FIGHTERS!
DRAMA!
BLOOD!
SWEAT!
TEARS OF DEFEAT!
The prize? OF COURSE LOTS OF MONEY! ETERNAL GLORY! AND THE RIGHT TO BRAG IN FRONT OF YOUR FRIENDS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!
REGISTER NOW!
I AM GANESHA!
The man read through that entire ridiculous announcement with an expression that was completely serious and unchanging, like he was reading a death report or war strategy.
No smile, no laughter, not even a blink that showed he found the writing funny.
He folded the paper back up neatly and muttered quietly to himself, his voice deep and heavy like distant thunder.
"Is it time already?"
The man then stood with fluid movements.
His impressive body was now clearly visible...
about 190 cm tall with muscles packed tight like granite stone.
Every movement he made radiated frightening strength, making him look like a small giant who could crush anything that got in his way.
The giant wild boar beside him also stood, and now its true size was clear...
as big as a small car, with coarse brown fur and intelligent red eyes that gleamed.
Despite its terrifying size, the animal seemed completely docile toward the man.
The man jumped onto the boar's back easily, like hopping onto a small rock.
He said briefly, his voice full of authority, "To Orario."
The wild boar growled once in response, then began moving through the forest with thundering steps.
Small trees were simply trampled, bushes passed without obstacle.
Before long, from behind the trees, a group of black humanoid monsters with glowing red eyes emerged.
They blocked the path while making horrible hissing sounds.
Without waiting for orders from its master, the wild boar immediately charged at full speed.
The collision was devastating the monsters were torn to pieces instantly, their black blood splattering everywhere.
Their torn bodies scattered in all directions like rag dolls ripped apart by a child.
The man on the boar's back didn't even blink, as if what had just happened was merely running into a pile of dry leaves.
Zigen Blackthorne (Lock Level: 4)
•••
The scene now changed drastically from the dark forest to dusty roads under the scorching midday sun.
A merchant caravan moved slowly, its wooden carts creaking softly to the rhythm of the horses and donkeys pulling them.
The atmosphere was peaceful and a bit boring. just the sound of turning wheels and occasional conversation from drowsy merchants.
On top of a pile of apple sacks in one of the carts, a very handsome young man was sleeping comfortably in a completely relaxed position.
His jet-black hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his clean face made him look out of place among the dusty merchant caravan.
Most striking of all, he was hugging a sheathed sword...
a traditional katana with an elegant black sheath, against his chest like it was his favorite body pillow.
On the sword's sheath was the same tattoo as Zagan's: a snake eating its own tail.
In his casually dangling left hand, he still held a half-eaten apple, its juice dried under the scorching sun.
The caravan owner, a middle-aged fat man with a pot belly and a face that was always sweating, approached the young man with very careful and respectful steps.
Every step was made as quietly as possible, like he was afraid of waking a sleeping dragon.
"M-Master Swordsman..." he whispered in a trembling voice.
"Um... do you need a drink? Or maybe another apple? Our apples are very crisp and sweet... imported directly from the finest orchards..."
The young man... Ukyo...
lazily opened one eye, a beautiful dark brown eye.
He glanced at the merchant briefly, then closed his eyes again, ignoring the man like he was just a passing breeze.
The fat merchant swallowed hard and tried to speak again with an increasingly trembling voice.
"W-we'll be arriving at the next village soon to rest, Sir... maybe you'd like to get down to stretch your legs or..."
Before he could finish talking, Ukyo, without bothering to open his eyes and with his mouth still somewhat full of apple pieces, mumbled unclearly and somewhat annoyed.
"Mmmfngan bising... nti akyu tidurnya keganggu...(Don't be noisy... or you'll disturb my sleep...)."
he grumbled while chewing the apple still in his mouth.
The merchant immediately turned pale as a sheet, his face becoming as white as a burial shroud.
He bowed deeply over and over like a drinking chicken.
"S-sorry! Sorry, Sir! I didn't mean to disturb you!"
He then backed away as slowly and carefully as possible, even controlling his breathing to not be too noisy, as if afraid of waking a death god in meditation.
After the fat merchant left with trembling steps, Ukyo smiled faintly without opening his eyes.
That smile was barely visible, but there was an aura of satisfaction radiating from him.
He raised the somewhat wilted apple in his hand and bit it once more with a crisp "crunch."
He chewed leisurely, enjoying the sweet and sour taste of apple mixed with the flavor of afternoon drowsiness.
After swallowing, he returned to his comfortable sleeping position...
head resting on the soft pile of apple sacks, katana hugged tight to his chest, and one leg casually hanging from the cart.
As if there was nothing more important in this world than a peaceful afternoon nap and a good apple.
Ukyo Tachibana (Lock Level: ???)
Title: Star from the East, Silent Sword.
•••
Orario, Daedalus Street.
Night had fallen with its bone-piercing cold along Daedalus Street.
The dim streetlights could only provide faint illumination, creating more shadows than light.
The air mixed with the damp smell of ancient stone and something darker. the aroma of fear trapped in narrow alleys.
In the back room of "Mordecai's Used Goods" pawn shop, the atmosphere was far darker than the streets outside.
The room was dimly lit, only illuminated by a single oil lamp that flickered like a dying candle flame.
Used goods were scattered everywhere...
piles of rotting old books, rusted jewelry, and worn-out weapons no longer fit for use.
Dust hung in the air like thin fog, mixed with a pungent aroma—
a combination of rusted metal and other strange things.
Mordecai, the shop owner, was kneeling on the dirty, creaking wooden floor.
His usually cunning face was now swollen and full of blackish-blue bruises.
Fresh blood flowed from the corner of his torn mouth, and he'd just spat a piece of his broken tooth onto the floor with a horrible "thunk."
His body trembled uncontrollably.
In front of him, a man sat casually in the only decent chair in the room—
an old wooden chair with faded carvings.
His figure was almost completely hidden in thick shadows, a dark robe covering his entire body.
Only the cold glint of his ice-like eyes was visible from behind the darkness, radiating a killing aura that made the air around him feel heavy.
In the mysterious man's hand, a dagger with a gleaming blade was being cleaned with a black cloth.
Every movement of his hand was very calm and methodical, like he was performing a ritual he'd done thousands of times.
The man's voice shattered the suffocating silence calm but containing a deadly threat like a venomous snake preparing to strike.
"So, Mordecai," he said in a tone that was almost like casual conversation, but every word felt like a knife scraping skin.
"Explain once more, slowly. Why would a little goddess bother visiting your pathetic junk shop and ask about our children?"
Mordecai shook violently, his entire body trembling like leaves in a hurricane.
His voice came out stuttering, almost incomprehensible because of paralyzing fear.
"I-I swear, Sir!" Mordecai said in a hoarse, trembling voice.
"I didn't know she was coming! I didn't even know she was a goddess! She... she was just looking for a child named Rick! She said the kid was involved in a case about imprisoned adventurers! I swear, I didn't tell her anything!"
The man fell silent for a few seconds that felt like eternity, as if carefully processing that information.
That silence was more terrifying than screams, because no one knew what he was thinking.
"A child named Rick," he repeated slowly in a very cold tone, each word spoken with frightening precision.
Without taking his gaze off the trembling Mordecai, the man turned slightly toward one of his subordinates standing like a statue near the door.
That subordinate...
a medium-built man with a stern face immediately straightened when he heard the coming order.
"Bring the child named Rick here. Now," the mysterious man said in a calm but undeniable voice.
"We need to talk with him... privately."
The subordinate bowed deeply and immediately stepped out of the room, his footsteps almost soundless on the creaking wooden floor.
After the subordinate left, the mysterious man focused his attention back on Mordecai, who was still kneeling and trembling.
He didn't move from his chair, but the dagger in his hand suddenly began gleaming with strange light.
A dim purple aura began enveloping the blade, making the air around it vibrate with terrifying energy.
With an almost invisible movement, the dagger flew from his hand and shot through the air like purple lightning.
The knife embedded itself right in Mordecai's right palm with a wet "thunk," pinning it to the dirty wooden floor.
Mordecai screamed in agony with a heart-wrenching sound, a scream that could make hair stand on end.
But that sound immediately stopped and turned into choked sobs when the mysterious man gave him a warning look...
a look sharper than knives and colder than polar ice.
"This is just a small reminder, Mordecai," the man said in a tone so calm it sounded more terrifying than shouted threats.
"Our organization's secrets... remain secrets. Don't let anyone... whether goddess, demon, or any creature in this world... get a whiff of it. If not..." he paused briefly, letting the threat hang in the air like a guillotine.
"next time this knife will be embedded in that nice neck of yours. Understand?"
Mordecai could only nod weakly, tears mixed with blood flowing down his swollen face.
The mysterious man then stood from his chair with very elegant movements, as if he'd just finished afternoon tea and not tortured someone.
Without looking back at the groaning Mordecai, he walked out of the shop with calm, confident steps.
As he began walking down the dark, deserted Daedalus Street, his footsteps echoed softly between the ancient stone walls.
His mind began wandering, and quiet muttering started coming from behind the robe covering his face.
"Hmph. Old man Eldrin... you think hiding in that crappy potion shop can protect you forever?" he thought with a tone full of contempt.
"And Zagan... that pathetic coward. So afraid of dying that you're willing to lock yourself in Ganesha Familia's prison and pretend to be an ordinary prisoner? I wonder why Zigen would accept such a coward as his student."
His footsteps stopped briefly under the dim moonlight that managed to penetrate the gaps between tall buildings.
"But it seems your hiding time is up," he continued his cold monologue.
"This tournament that Ganesha announced so suddenly... Heh. You two will definitely come out of hiding, won't you? After all, a promise is a promise. If something big enough happens in Orario, we all have to gather again."
The man let out a long sigh, white vapor coming from his mouth in the cold night air like smoke from a dragon's mouth.
His breath looked like little spirits dancing in the air before disappearing.
"It's been seven years since Master died. Time really does fly so fast... but the wound still feels like yesterday."
His expression, hidden behind the hood, hardened, and his cold eyes began gleaming with hatred that had been buried for years. hatred that had taken deep root and poisoned his soul.
"Of us seven... Master's best students... now only three remain breathing. And one of us... or maybe some cunning outsider... is the killer of our four brothers. This exhausting guessing game has gone on too long. It has to end soon."
He stopped at a dark intersection, looking toward two different streets...
one leading to the district where Eldrin's potion shop was located, and another leading to the deeper districts.
"Maybe I should postpone killing old man Eldrin for now," he thought while weighing his options.
"With Zigen and Ukyo about to come to Orario because of this stupid tournament, the situation will become much more complicated... and much more interesting."
"I should hide for a while. After all, my main goal remains killing that cunning old Eldrin. But... maybe I can play a little with the others first."
The mysterious man pulled his robe's hood deeper, completely hiding his face in thick shadows.
With one last step that was almost soundless, he melted into the darkness of Daedalus Street night like a ghost returning to the afterlife.
He disappeared without a trace, with Mordecai's groans of pain still echoing from inside the shop he'd left behind.
???? (Lock Level: 5)