In life, there is always an opportunity that presents itself. Failing to seize it is a mistake.
The forest surrounding the mountains stretched as far as the eye could see. It was nowhere near as vast as the Great Demonic Forest, but for a fourteen-year-old boy, it was already a formidable trial. The trees stood densely packed, their canopies filtering the sunlight, while the ground—littered with tangled roots and damp leaves—made every step more arduous.
Two days had passed since Myrn set out. He was still deep within the forest. According to the map he checked regularly, it would take him another three days to reach the mountains.
He survived on whatever he could find: fish caught bare-handed in streams, roasted rabbit meat, and anything else edible along the way. The journey was exhausting, yet he pressed on without complaint.
As he was about to take a break—just as he always did when the sun began to set—a cry echoed through the forest. It was unmistakably inhuman.
"What was that?" Myrn muttered, turning toward the source of the sound.
He broke into a run. The farther he went, the weaker the cry became, until it grew clearer and more distinct. When he reached a certain distance, he stopped abruptly and hid behind a tree to observe.
Before him lay a small pool of water, fed by a thin stream trickling down a rocky surface. Just below it was a natural terraced slope of earth, and at the foot of it lay a bird.
It was a Wind Elemental Eagle.
Its wings were badly damaged, its feathers stained with blood, and its uneven breathing revealed the severity of its injuries.
Elemental Eagles were creatures affiliated with the four elements: water, fire, earth, and wind. Water and earth eagles were so rare that they were considered almost mythical, with no confirmed sightings. Wind eagles were the most commonly tamed, while fire eagles—known as Phoenixes—were notoriously difficult to subdue.
Myrn watched from a distance, trying to understand how one of the fastest aerial creatures could have been wounded so badly. After a few minutes, the eagle began to stir. Intrigued, Myrn searched for the cause—
—and another creature entered his field of vision.
A Hauper Serpent.
A level-three demonic creature. Its fangs were still slick with blood, and its body bore numerous claw marks, likely inflicted by the eagle.
The eagle was clearly protecting something. That was the only reason it had not fled despite its condition. The serpent, on the other hand, behaved like a patient predator, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Myrn remained hidden. Despite the danger, he was fascinated.
"I need that serpent," he murmured.
The battle between the Hauper and the eagle was brutal. Though severely disadvantaged, the eagle still found the strength to repel each assault.
An idea formed in Myrn's mind.
In his current state, he stood no chance against a level-three demonic creature. But if it were on the brink of death…
"Then I might have a chance."
From his analysis, the serpent was recovering far faster than the eagle. However, to regenerate properly, it would need to retreat and rest. Haupers were extraordinary creatures. In his previous life, Myrn had once faced a level-four specimen. After consuming its flesh using his Authority of Gluttony, he had acquired the Rapid Recovery ability, rank D. This time, without that ability, he would have to make do with its blood to temper his body.
The blood of a demonic creature could strengthen the body of anyone who consumed it—but enduring the sinister energy within required exceptional mental fortitude.
"It's time to act," he thought, retreating quietly.
The eagle's condition worsened. Then, at last, the serpent chose to withdraw. As it headed toward a nearby cave, Myrn was already waiting.
Hidden in the shadows, he gripped a wooden spike coated with poison. Motionless and focused, he waited for the right moment. When the serpent entered its recovery state, Myrn struck.
He lunged forward and drove the spike straight into the creature's eye.
The serpent let out a horrific scream, thrashing violently. Myrn was flung out of the cave and slammed into the ground. Above them, the eagle still lay dying, unable to escape.
Furious—but satisfied—the Hauper had found prey it deemed more worthwhile. It abandoned the cave and pursued Myrn, despite its battered condition.
One thing was certain to it:
Myrn was far weaker than the eagle.
Myrn slowly pushed himself up and stared at the approaching serpent. Despite its massive size and terrifying appearance, the creature was unsteady. A sly smile spread across the boy's face.
"Hm… hello there. Glad you fell right into my trap."
At that instant, the serpent staggered. Its vision blurred, its tongue flicked only at irregular intervals. The poison was taking effect. Myrn retrieved the same wooden spike and, without hesitation, drove it beneath the creature's head.
The serpent collapsed heavily to the ground, lifeless.
An ordinary poison would have been useless against a demonic creature. But the one Myrn had prepared—a toxin made from noxea leaves, a plant often used by priests to facilitate divine energy circulation—was different. Harmless to humans, it became a true calamity for any demonic creature below level three.
Myrn approached the corpse to extract its blood when a voice echoed in his mind.
"Master, your unique ability—Authority of Chaos—has reacted."
Myrn froze.
"What do you mean? Explain," he demanded immediately.
"I do not yet fully understand what occurred, but I clearly sensed a reaction after you killed the serpent," Daark replied.
Myrn let out an irritated sigh.
"Rah… I'll learn more when the time comes."
He stepped closer again, intending to collect the serpent's blood. Suddenly—without warning—black tendrils that seemed almost alive burst forth from his left hand. They wrapped around the creature's body and devoured it in an instant, leaving nothing behind but bare ground.
Myrn froze, his eyes wide.
"What was that, Daark?" he asked, still shaken.
According to Daark's explanation, it was indeed his unique ability—Authority of Chaos. However, even Daark did not know why it had activated on its own.
Chaos, as a power, was unknown. It had never been observed nor wielded by anyone before. The concept itself, however, was ancient. In language and thought, chaos was associated with disorder, destruction, and deviation from what was natural. Myrn understood that much perfectly.
What he did not understand was why it had acted autonomously. A mystery he would have to unravel if he wished to grow stronger.
As he was still lost in thought, a detail suddenly struck him.
The eagle's cries were gone.
He moved at once.
When he reached the spot, he found the lifeless body of the female eagle. Myrn approached cautiously, wary that his ability might activate again without warning. But nothing happened.
"It looks like she was protecting this egg…" he thought.
He examined the eagle more closely. Her skin was black, while her wings were a dark brown. Even without fully spreading them, their wingspan reached roughly sixty centimeters in width and nearly a meter in length.
As Myrn considered what he might take from the body, his right hand began to tremble. Instinctively, he stepped back, distancing himself from the corpse to prevent a repeat of what had happened earlier.
"As long as I don't understand what this is…" he thought, as the trembling finally subsided.
After that, Myrn resumed his journey.
Three days later, he arrived in the city of Tarze.
It was a loud, lively place where most inhabitants seemed to make their living through trade. Voices overlapped with the shouts of merchants, and the streets were in constant motion.
"I need to find an inn," Myrn thought, scanning his surroundings.
He stopped a passerby to ask for directions. Once at the inn, he booked a room. The reception was disdainful, but that did not surprise him. His appearance alone explained their attitude.
"I need to buy some clothes."
He headed to a small shop next to the inn. Inside, he browsed the shelves, searching for something suitable.
He chose a thick tunic made of supple reinforced leather, dark brown in color, primarily to protect his torso. He added black trousers made of heavy fabric, sturdy leather boots that reached his calves, and a long, double-layered cloak. The cloak covered his back and much of his front, reaching down to his chest and thighs, secured by a clasp at the throat.
Once finished, Myrn returned to the inn and went straight to his room. As he passed the counter, he requested his meal. He took a bath and ate quietly.
"Daark, show me my status," Myrn said.
No response.
"Daark?"
A message appeared before him.
"Error… Error."
Myrn straightened abruptly.
As he was about to call out again, another message appeared.
"Synchronization in progress."
He remained silent, intrigued. He assumed it would take only a few minutes. Instead, he fell asleep—and woke up the next morning to find the same message still there.
"Synchronization in progress."
After resting, Myrn put on his new clothes. It was time to continue his journey.
"But I need a weapon," he said as he left the inn.
He went to a forge and carefully examined the swords on display. That was when he spotted a true gem among the basic weapons. Its price was surprisingly low: twenty-five gold coins.
The blade was straight, long, and perfectly balanced. The steel was a dull gray, slightly darkened—not overly polished, but clean and flawless, with a well-maintained edge.
The guard consisted of a simple straight bar of metal, devoid of engravings or symbols. It protected the hand efficiently without drawing attention.
The grip, made of hard wood, was tightly wrapped in dark leather strips. It fit naturally in the hand. The pommel—a small, rounded block of metal—was heavy enough to ensure perfect balance.
Myrn knew instantly that this sword was meant for him.
He left the forge. After only a few steps, he felt something was wrong.
He was being followed.
At first, he had considered taking a carriage to reach the city of Kurt more quickly, but he dismissed the idea.
"I need to deal with these miserable fools."
He left the main road and entered the forest. The trees were dense enough to muffle the sounds of the city, and the ground—covered in leaves and loose soil—still bore traces of small animals.
Myrn stopped abruptly.
Almost immediately, nine men emerged from different directions. Within seconds, he was surrounded.
"Well, well… what do we have here? A little noble pretending to be a commoner," one of them sneered.
They closed in slowly, shrinking the space around him.
"Hand over the bag, little noble. No trouble."
Myrn was indeed a noble. They had recognized him by his appearance: a young man with pale white hair, blue pupils that accentuated an already strikingly handsome face. It was no surprise he attracted this kind of attention.
A smile formed on Myrn's lips. For him, this was the perfect opportunity to test his new sword.
"I don't have much time. Come at me all at once."
He slowly drew his blade.
"What a rude little noble… but those are my favorite kind," another man chuckled.
"Boss, let me handle him. I'll teach him some manners."
He licked his blade with a grotesque grin.
"Ugh… what a hideous man," Myrn muttered, irritated.
The man attacked immediately. His blade cut through the air, heading straight for Myrn.
Just as the strike was about to land, another blade intercepted it.
"Huh… what the—"
Myrn froze, stunned by what he saw.
"A woman?"