Shadows of Erebus
Under a pitch-black night sky, deep within the forbidden depths of the Erebus Forest, a bone-chilling stillness reigned supreme.
This silence was not broken by the usual rustling of the intertwined trees, as if the air itself had frozen in fear of making any sound.
All traces of its mythical creatures or magical beasts had completely vanished, leaving no sign that this forest had ever been a graveyard for the weak or the arrogant.
For alongside its ferocious beasts and terrifying power, this forest formed the borderline between the Kingdom of Animaria and the Kingdom of Anastasia.
It was a restricted zone, forbidden to any mage without official clearance from both realms; to trespass meant facing the combined armies of both nations closing in from every side.
Suddenly, this eerie silence was shattered by the sound of footsteps, growing clearer as they approached from afar.
At first, the eye could discern nothing, but with every approaching step, the reason for the footsteps—and the cause of this suspicious quiet—began to unfold: two figures moving in the shadows, quietly and steadily, cloaked in black robes that shrouded them from head to toe.
One was taller, larger, and more powerful, surrounded by a terrifying icy aura that froze everything in its vicinity.
It was likely this presence that forced such an unnatural stillness upon a forest with so fearsome a reputation.
The other figure, despite his slighter build, tracked the first with the same steady resolve, struggling desperately to evade the crushing pressure of that dominant energy, while trying to absorb its icy leakages and convert them into raw energy within his auxiliary vortexes.
At the base of his spine and the crown of his head, faint glimmerings of light began to take shape—a sign of the mage’s struggle to absorb the energy of heaven and earth. This aura was a precious resource, far too valuable to be left to dissipate into nature's chaos.
Yet the Paragon's energy was merciless.
The moment Maxilius drew the tiniest thread of it, he felt as though blades of pure frost were tearing through his mana channels.
His body shuddered violently as his Tri-Prana nearly froze and shattered under the weight of that overwhelming purity, forcing him to sever the connection instantly, gasping with trembling breaths.
For how could a novice Neophyte—still struggling to awaken his three Tri-Prana vortexes—dare to absorb the energy of a Fourth-Rank Paragon? A rank that represented the absolute pinnacle of power across the entire continent.
Suddenly, the larger shadow halted, standing still as he stared sharply ahead.
In turn, the youth stopped what he was doing, his footsteps freezing in place.
The larger shadow stared forward with intense focus, his white, pupilless eyes naturally striking dread and terror into the heart of anyone who looked at them.
They belonged to a pale face possessing a handsome nobility that seemed entirely at odds with the latent terror within it, framed by a thick white beard that lent him an air of great dignity.
The whiteness of his beard was no sign of old age, but rather his natural hair color; the frozen water element had dyed his features with this frightening paleness, making him look like a shard broken from eternal ice.
The smaller shadow was a young boy barely fifteen years old, with blue eyes and a lean face, yet possessing a radiant handsomeness that promised to flourish as his body matured and his features filled out.
The boy’s eyes were filled with caution and tension, tracking the gaze of the larger shadow to see what he was looking at.
But how could a minor Neophyte like him see what his master, a Fourth-Rank Paragon, could perceive?
"Neophyte" was the title given to apprentice mages who were still in the process of awakening the three vortexes known in magical lore as the Tri-Prana, through which a mage absorbs the energy of heaven and earth, converting it into their own mana to cultivate themselves toward the peak.
"Paragons," on the other hand, were the absolute sovereigns of this continent; not a single mage across the entire land had ever reached the Fifth Rank.
The Fourth Rank was the apex, and also the bottleneck that stood between mortals and their insatiable greed for power and control over their own destinies.
The young shadow stood still, focusing his full attention on his master’s cues to be ready for any sudden movement.
A brief silence ensued, broken by the Paragon’s calm, resonant voice:
"Maxilius... prepare yourself."
The boy looked at his master with a fear tempered by caution, but he swallowed his dread, finding himself compelled to voice the thoughts weighing on his chest.
In a voice he fought to keep steady, he said:
"Master, the further we advance, the clearer the true nature of what we are facing becomes before me.
Yet, Master, with the grandeur of your being and the depth of your cunning, you have never been lured by treasures, nor by the naivety of the arrogant or the courage of fools, to take such a monumental risk!"
The master turned toward his subordinate, casting a piercing gaze with his stark white eyes, his features hardening into an expression of severe cruelty.
Terror painted itself starkly across Maxilius’s face—the very fear that usually kept him from speaking his mind.
But his fear for his life outweighed his fear of his master's wrath. Unable to help himself, he quickly backtracked on his words:
"Master, I did not mean what I said! All I meant was..."
The youth could not finish his sentence, as a booming voice cut him off, nearly deafening his ears:
"No, you did mean it! You meant every word!"
The boy’s knees shook, but he strained with all his might to remain standing, while the Paragon continued:
"You are cautious, Maxilius, and that is no flaw. You are afraid, and that is precisely what should be happening right now.
But you must know: with great rewards come great risks, and life alone has no value without a purpose or meaning.
Everything in this world is permitted; you need only stretch out your hands and take it, to declare to the entire world that this thing belongs to you, and that you will never surrender it as long as you live!
Immortality without grand achievements is worthless.
There are billions of ordinary humans who live and die as if they had never walked this earth—what proof is there that you ever existed? Only a select few of the great have carved their names onto the pages of history, where they remain etched in letters of pure gold.
These are the ones who are truly alive, immortalized forever. Do you understand this, Maxilius?"
"Of course, Master," Maxilius replied without thinking.
The moment the Paragon finished speaking, he turned back toward his destination.
Maxilius stared at his master's back in utter bewilderment, thinking to himself:
What strange logic is this? Death is death, and life is life. What use are goals and meanings if the ultimate fate of their bearer is oblivion? What use is power if my end and the end of the weak are exactly the same? What benefit will I gain from being remembered in the pages of history forever, so long as my end is identical to that of the ordinary man? What sense does this make! Life is the true treasure for which everything else should be sacrificed.
A man who loses a possession can always acquire it again, but a man who loses his life, how can he ever reclaim it? Eternal life is the true meaning, even if it were an eternity of torment.
In the end, no bliss is permanent and no torment is everlasting; the wheel of fate never stops turning, and as long as a person is alive, they will find a way to solve every problem and recover everything lost.
Maxilius remained lost in his scattered thoughts until he felt his master’s hand grip his shoulder, lifting him forcefully off the ground, snapping his attention back instantly.
He closed his eyes, and suddenly, the air around him violently convulsed.
His master took off at such an incredible speed that the sheer air pressure would have shattered his body into tiny pieces had it not been for the protection of his master's aura.
Yet even amidst this terror, Maxilius analyzed his master’s power in sheer awe: Heavens! He isn't even using a wind magic technique—this is the raw, unadorned speed of his physical body!
In the midst of this cataclysmic rush, Maxilius caught a glimpse from behind his master’s robe of a pair of giant red eyes belonging to a terrifying Growler—a Second-Order predator of the forest—stalking them from atop a rocky ridge.
But the moment the frost blizzard emanating from the Paragon's body swept past, the massive beast curled inward in sheer terror, burying its claws into the dirt as it retreated into the deepest recesses of its den to avoid freezing to death.
The Paragon had subdued the entire forbidden forest merely by passing through it.
They crossed thousands of meters in a single bound, though to Maxilius, it felt like an entire eternity. Although his master's aura shielded him from the crushing momentum, it was brutally freezing.
Had he not activated his air shield and frantically pumped his magic core into it, he would have frozen to death.
If he remained under this omnidirectional pressure for much longer, his end would have been near.
Until at last, they reached the borders of the Erebus Forest, overlooking the Kingdom of Animaria—a realm some referred to as the Kingdom of Fire, because its royal family inherited the essence of the fire element from generation to generation.
