Chapter 3 – The Heir Rising from Ashes
Sixteen full years had passed since that fateful night…
Yet history had never forgotten the event.
Today, on the eastern part of the Azure Sea Continent—one of the nine great continents of Kaelthorn—lay the Lunar Wave Empire.
In the heart of its icy valleys, surrounded by dense forests and towering snow-capped peaks, that once-simple cave had transformed.
It was no longer merely a refuge.
It had become an ashram—a secluded place of relentless training, meditation, and quiet endurance.
The cave walls were black and rough, etched with countless sword scars—some so old they had melded into the stone, others still sharp and recent, as if carved only yesterday.
On the floor, ancient formation circles remained faintly visible—half-eroded lines that still pulsed with a soft blue glow in places.
The air always carried the lingering scent of old incense sticks and burned lamp oil, a faint smoky haze that never fully dissipated.
At the cave entrance, the morning mist hung thick.
Cold mountain winds swept down, whistling through dry branches as they rushed inside.
Far off, thin sheets of snow caught the first golden rays of the rising sun, sparkling like scattered diamonds.
Deep inside, on an old stone platform, Archmage Vaelor sat motionless in meditation.
His eyes were closed.
His breaths were long, deep, and deliberate.
But his body bore the unmistakable marks of time and sacrifice.
His right hand rested on his knee—slightly rigid, fingers trembling now and then.
In the center of his chest burned a dull, eternal pain—the cost of forcibly halting his cultivation that night long ago.
Every breath served as a quiet reminder of what he had lost.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
The ancient flame still flickered within them,
but now it was layered with an unmistakable weariness.
"Today…" he whispered softly, his voice echoing gently against the stone walls.
"Today marks sixteen full years since that night."
Meanwhile, on the other side of the forest—
A shadow darted swiftly through the thick trees.
The young man looked about fifteen or sixteen years old.
His features were strikingly handsome—sharp jawline, intense eyes.
His body was lean but powerfully built: broad shoulders, narrow waist, every muscle sculpted through years of grueling discipline.
Long black hair fell to his shoulders, swaying lightly with each movement.
His expression was calm, almost serene—deep concentration etched into every line of his face.
He ran barefoot.
Leaves crumpled silently beneath his feet without breaking.
Not a single sound betrayed his presence.
It was as though the forest had long accepted him as one of its own.
Suddenly, he halted.
He melted into the bushes, concealing himself perfectly.
A few meters ahead, beside a small lake, a wild deer drank quietly.
Its ears twitched, alert, yet it sensed no immediate threat.
Alaric Thorne took a slow, deep breath.
He moved forward with painstaking care.
Each step measured.
The deer's scent reached him—damp earth, fresh grass, and the faint tang of instinctive caution.
In one fluid motion, he closed the distance.
A single, lightning-precise strike.
The edge of his hand connected with the deer's neck.
A faint crack of bone.
The animal dropped without a cry.
No savagery.
Only flawless efficiency.
Pleased with the kill, Alaric Thorne was just about to lift the carcass onto his shoulder when—
The wind changed direction abruptly.
A low, menacing growl rumbled from the undergrowth.
Alaric Thorne's head tilted slightly to the right.
His eyes narrowed.
ROAR!
A colossal mountain lion exploded from the bushes.
Twice the size of any ordinary beast.
Its black-brown fur rippled over swollen muscles.
Its eyes glowed with an unnatural dark sheen—as though some foreign power had seeped into its veins.
Alaric Thorne rolled backward instantly.
The lion's first massive paw slammed into the ground—dirt and rocks flew in all directions.
The second paw raked across his arm.
A deep, searing gash.
Warm blood poured freely.
Pain flared, yet Alaric Thorne's face showed nothing.
The lion roared again, saliva dripping from its jaws.
Alaric Thorne whispered softly, "Calm…"
The beast lunged.
This time he was ready.
He sidestepped; the lion sailed past.
He spun and delivered a powerful kick to its hind legs—bone cracked audibly.
The lion stumbled.
Seizing the moment, Alaric Thorne drew the dagger concealed in his clothing.
Third clash.
The lion tried to crush him beneath its weight—hot breath, razor fangs, crushing force.
Alaric Thorne slipped underneath.
Both hands locked around its throat.
In one swift, decisive motion—
He drew the dagger across its neck.
The head parted from the body.
The massive form crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.
As the lion fell lifeless, Alaric Thorne's tense body finally sank to the earth.
For several long moments, only his rapid breathing filled the silence of the forest.
Slowly, he stood.
Blood still streamed warmly down his arm.
He examined the wound, pulled a cloth strip from his pocket, and bound it tightly.
Then, in his mind, he thought:
"I… maintained control."
But still, that lion appeared so suddenly. It feels like I'm not ready yet. I need more training.
He murmured to himself.
By now the sun had fully crested the peaks.
Alaric Thorne hoisted both the deer and the lion onto his shoulders and began the trek back to the cave.
His steps remained steady and calm, yet a faint restlessness stirred within him.
Today he had turned sixteen.
And he clearly remembered his master's promise: when he reached sixteen, he would be taken to Horizon City.
In all his life, he had never stepped beyond this forest.
Deep in thought, he finally reached the familiar cave entrance.
Stepping inside, he saw that Archmage Vaelor was already awake.
His gaze settled directly on Alaric Thorne.
In a quiet yet grave tone, he said:
"You returned much later today. What happened?"
Alaric Thorne met his eyes and offered a faint smile.
He gently lowered both kills to the ground.
"On the way back, I ran into a lion. It attacked me, which caused the delay."
Vaelor's eyes immediately flicked to Alaric Thorne's arm.
Blood was still seeping through the makeshift bandage.
He spoke sternly:
"I specifically forbade you from going into the deeper regions. Don't you remember? High-rank beasts live there. Why did you go that way?"
Alaric Thorne hesitated, then admitted:
"I… got careless today. I was chasing a deer and wandered too far."
Vaelor regarded him with a hard look.
"Alaric Thorne, today you turn sixteen. Since it is your birthday, I will forgive this carelessness. But mark my words—from now on, I will not tolerate such recklessness."
Alaric Thorne remained silent for a few moments.
Then, looking straight into Vaelor's eyes, he asked:
"Master… I am sixteen now. You promised that when I turned sixteen, you would allow me to leave this forest."
Vaelor held his gaze.
The boy was gone from those eyes.
A young man stood before him—one with fire burning deep inside.
"I know," Vaelor replied.
The air inside the cave grew heavier still.
Alaric Thorne asked quietly:
"Am I ready to go out into the world?"
Vaelor attempted to rise.
His body wavered briefly, but he steadied himself.
He turned his gaze toward the cave mouth—toward the mountains and the vast, unknown world beyond.
In a grave voice, he said:
"Readiness… is never truly complete."
Then he turned back to Alaric Thorne:
"But the time has come. I cannot keep you confined in this cave forever.
Just as a young eagle must leave the nest to become a true predator, you too must step forward to fulfill your destiny."
Alaric Thorne's heart raced at his master's words.
Vaelor took a deep breath and declared at last:
"From this day forward… you have my permission to leave the forest."
But from now on, always remember these things.
First: Never allow anyone to see the Blood Mark that occasionally appears on your body.
If even one person recognizes it by mistake, you will be plunged into dangers you cannot yet imagine.
Silence enveloped the cave.
"As you command, Master," Alaric Thorne replied in a low, solemn voice.
Second: No one must ever discover the existence of this cave.
Alaric Thorne was mildly surprised but nodded in acceptance.
Then Vaelor handed him a hand-drawn map of the forest and surrounding lands, along with an old black-bound book.
"Take these. They will serve you well on the road ahead."
As Alaric Thorne accepted the map and book, his hands trembled with excitement.
He was overjoyed at the thought of finally stepping into the world, yet a quiet sorrow tugged at his heart—he would no longer remain by his master's side forever.
Since the day he was born, Alaric Thorne had never known his parents.
His master had been both mother and father to him.
Yet he understood: he could not stay forever.
To become truly powerful, he had to move forward.
At that moment, Vaelor looked at him and spoke softly:
"In exactly one month, an entrance examination will be held at the Sapphire Pavilion in Horizon City. You must secure admission there—no matter the cost."
Alaric Thorne was taken aback.
"But Master… you are already giving me the finest training possible…"
Vaelor gave a faint smile.
"Listen carefully, Alaric Thorne. This forest lacks rare spiritual herbs, advanced formations, and proper cultivation resources. You cannot grow much stronger here. If you truly wish to become powerful, you must advance. You must enter the Sapphire Pavilion at any price."
Alaric Thorne nodded lightly, looking at his master with respect.
"As you command, Master."
Afterward, Alaric Thorne stepped outside the cave once more and gazed toward the horizon—
where, beyond the mountains, his real world awaited.
He returned inside and began preparing his belongings.
He possessed only a few items:
The sword his master had given him.
Two sets of simple clothes.
A dagger.
A magical storage ring.
He carefully placed the map and book inside the ring.
He filled several bottles with water and added wild fruits and preserved food he had gathered over time.
Once everything was ready, he returned to his master.
Seeing him approach fully prepared, Vaelor offered a gentle smile.
"It appears you are completely ready. Very well—you may depart now."
Alaric Thorne smiled faintly, though sorrow lingered in the curve of his lips.
His eyes grew slightly moist.
He looked at Vaelor and said:
"Master, I make you this promise—no matter what trials await, I will become powerful. I will make your name resound across the entire world."
Vaelor's eyes also grew misty.
He had raised Alaric Thorne as though he were his own son.
Yet he mastered his emotions and replied:
"I have complete faith in you, Alaric Thorne. You will succeed. Now go forth—and let the whole world know that Alaric Thorne, heir of the royal bloodline, bows to no one."
At those words, a confident smile bloomed across Alaric Thorne's face.
He bowed deeply in profound respect, then turned and stepped out of the cave—toward the beginning of his true journey.