New Mission

In the northern reaches of the Vampire Realm, a towering fortress had stood resilient for decades, holding back the relentless tide of demonic invasions. This stronghold was the responsibility of the Blackthorn family, an ancient house as old as the royal line itself, known for their unwavering defense against the demons since the beginning of the war.

"Look at that—no way, is that a general's head? I heard this one was in the low Body Fusion Realm!"

"Yep, that's Dorian Blackthorn for you. Only twelve years old, and he's already leading squads into enemy territory and taking out generals stronger than him."

"Damn! Vampires really are built differently. He's already at the late Soul-Strengthening Realm, and his combat strength is said to rival that of a low Body and Soul Fusion expert."

"Dorian is the pride of Blackthorn Forest! Did you know he was born on the same day as Princess Seraphina? It's like they were destined for greatness!"

"Amazing, right? I've heard the heavens themselves rejoiced at their birth. Some say he's the chosen one, the child of prophecy who'll finally end this war."

"Pfft, you've been reading too many legends. That's just an old story passed down by hopeful dreamers."

"Hey, my grandfather lived nearly a thousand years, and he always swore that even the royal family once acknowledged the truth behind that tale. Maybe they've stopped talking about it over time, lost faith or something, but still—better to believe in something than in nothing, right? Especially in times like these."

"I remember reading an old book about a prophecy from thousands of years ago. It said that a vampire king, known as the Prophet King, foretold this very event. But who can say if he was right? He died in battle against the demons long ago, so there's no asking him now."

As the gossip about Dorian swirled around him, the young warrior paid it no mind, continuing his steady march toward the fortress gates. This was nothing new; he had long grown accustomed to the whispers. 

The massive gates creaked open, revealing a boy no older than twelve, confidently striding through the entrance. He wielded a halberd nearly twice his height with one hand, while in the other, he held the severed head of a demon general, its grotesque features still glistening with fresh blood.

The soldiers who had been gossiping fell silent, their whispers fading as Dorian Blackthorn walked toward the center of the courtyard, where his father stood waiting.

Lord Alaric Blackthorn, a tall, imposing figure clad in black armor, watched his son approach. His eyes, cold and calculating, showed no warmth or pride, only expectation. 

Dorian reached his father, knelt on one knee, and raised the demon's head with both hands as an offering.

"Father," Dorian said, his voice steady despite his youth, "as you commanded, I present the head of the demon general."

Lord Alaric looked down at his son, his face unreadable. "You have done well, Dorian," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You've earned your place today. But remember, this is just the beginning. You fight not for glory, but for our family's survival and the future of our realm."

Dorian nodded, still kneeling, gripping the halberd tightly. "Yes, Father. I will not fail you."

Alaric's gaze lingered on his son, and after a long moment, he placed a hand on Dorian's shoulder. "Rise, my son. There are more battles ahead. And far greater enemies to face."

—

In what once was a peaceful clearing near the city of Elandor, chaos now reigned. The ground was littered with deep craters, and trees that had once stood tall and proud were now either uprooted or entirely obliterated. Elion stood at the center of the devastation, sweat dripping down his brow, his chest heaving with exhaustion.

"Urf... urf..." he panted, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His clothes were torn in places, dirt smudged across his face, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes.

Surveying the destruction around him, Elion couldn't help but grin. 'So, what do you think, Valen?' he asked between labored breaths. 'How about we call it a day? Maybe it's time to stop training and start the next adventure.'

In his mind, Valen's voice echoed with its usual dry tone. 

[If you keep tearing up forests like this, you won't have any place left to train. But I suppose you've earned a break. You're getting stronger, kid. Just don't let it get to your head.]

Elion chuckled, shaking his head. 'No worries, Val. I know I still have a long way to go.'

Elion returned to his modest room at the inn he had been renting since his first arrival in Elandor. 

The familiar scent of aged wood and the faint creaking of the floorboards greeted him as he stepped inside. It had been his base for months now, a place of refuge and solitude after countless days spent honing his skills.

Four grueling months of intense training had passed. Every day had been a test of endurance and determination, pushing his limits and deepening his understanding of magic—especially void magic. 

Now, Elion felt something different within him: a readiness, a confidence he hadn't known before. He was no longer the boy who arrived in Elandor filled with naïve excitement. He was something more now, tempered by struggle and driven by purpose.

"I think it's time," Elion muttered to himself, a sense of resolve settling in his chest. He had practiced void magic enough in controlled environments. Now, it was time to see how it fared in the chaos of real combat.

Nothing would be better suited for that than taking on a mission as an adventurer—something that would test both his strength and his newfound magic in the unpredictable heat of battle.

After a refreshing shower to wash away the exhaustion from his training, Elion sat down for a quick dinner, savoring the simple meal while his mind raced with possibilities. 

The past few months had been grueling, but he was stronger now—strong enough to take on more serious challenges.

Once back in his room, Elion reached for the phone he bought when he came to Elandor, the familiar glow of the screen lighting up his face. 

He opened the adventurer guild's website, scrolling through the latest missions. His fingers hovered over each one, carefully reading the details.

Elion's eyes landed on one mission that piqued his interest. The description outlined the need for a group to subjugate a dangerous wolf pack that had been terrorizing the outskirts of Elandor. 

The wolves were no ordinary beasts; their strength ranged from late Third Stage to peak Fourth Stage, making them a formidable challenge even for seasoned adventurers. 

The mission was scheduled for tomorrow morning, and it was exactly what Elion needed—a real battle to test the full extent of his void magic. Facing beasts of that caliber would push him to his limits and force him to use everything he had learned.

"Perfect," he whispered, his lips curling into a smile as he confirmed his participation.

Elion switched off his phone and stored it in his space inventory, a wave of nostalgia washing over him as he thought of his family. 

'I should send two phones to my mother and sister. I don't know why we never used them; they're so useful. We could stay in touch more often.'

[Missing your family, kid?] 

"Well, of course. I spent twelve years with them, and they were always so kind to me. Even though I had a life and family back on Earth, I can't help but feel that they're just as much my family now." 

[That's good. It's important to realize you're not alone here.] 

"That's definitely true. I also have you, Valen." 

[Hahaha, thanks, kid. You really brighten these old bones.] 

"What bones? You're just a soul!" 

[And now the moment is ruined.]