Chapter 1: The Cursed Isle: Baptism of Shadows

From high above, through the thin veil of clouds, one could glimpse the deep blue ocean beneath the white mist. From this vantage point, the vast expanse of water resembled a curved mirror, reflecting the boundless beauty of the sky.

Scattered across the endless sea were lush, verdant islands. Beneath a patch of dark, brooding clouds, one island stood out—a roughly diamond-shaped landmass spanning about twenty kilometers. At its center rose a towering, needle-like peak, resembling a sword thrust into the heart of the island.

The island was surrounded by sheer cliffs, with no gentle beaches to be found. The waters below churned violently, their thunderous roars echoing as waves crashed against jagged rocks. This treacherous coastline made the island utterly inaccessible by ship.

On the southern edge, where a cliff jutted out into the sea, a thin, fifteen-year-old boy named Kael sat on the outermost rock. His clothes were tattered, and his gaze was fixed on the distant horizon. In his eyes, a mix of longing and melancholy hinted at a depth of emotion uncommon for his age.

Kael's somber expression was no facade—it was a raw reflection of his inner turmoil. The wind howled, whipping his unkempt hair and biting through his threadbare clothing. Yet, he remained motionless, like a statue carved into the cliff, his small figure dwarfed by the vast, tumultuous ocean.

After what seemed like an eternity, a horn-like sound echoed from the depths of the island's jungle.

"Wuuu~~"

At the sound, Kael's face twisted with disdain, but he slowly rose and made his way toward the source. Despite his frail appearance, he moved with agility, navigating the dense jungle with ease. Soon, he arrived at a clearing encircled by a thirty-meter-high wooden palisade, forming a crude camp.

The camp had a single gate, guarded by four men in green robes, all in their thirties and unremarkable in appearance. What caught the eye were the wolf-like creatures beside them—ferocious beasts with terrifying fangs.

"Grrr!! Grrr!!"

"Growl!!!"

The wolves bared their teeth, their eyes gleaming with malice as they eyed Kael. One of the men, with messy hair, sneered, "Hurry up and get inside! You're not even worth a snack for my wolf!"

Kael, wary of the snarling creatures, quickly slipped past them into the camp. Watching him go, the man spat in disdain. "Who even brought this weakling here? He's not going to last long in this Nightmare Camp."

"It was Lord Xavier," another man, with red hair, interjected in a low voice. "He's already a dead man walking."

"Dead man? Aren't all these brats here as good as dead?" the first man, named Greg, scoffed.

"Not quite. This kid used to be a young master from some family. Someone paid Lord Xavier to eliminate him. Instead of killing him outright, Lord Xavier decided to bind him to a White Nightmare and throw him here—another slave for our island."

At the mention of the White Nightmare, the men exchanged uneasy glances. One muttered, "How does Lord Xavier even have a White Nightmare? And could that kid really withstand it?"

"Doubtful. If he could, he'd be on White Nightmare Island, not here. Lord Xavier probably just sees him as an experiment. It's only a matter of time before the Nightmare devours him," the red-haired man said with a cruel laugh.

"Good riddance. I never liked the look of him. Still, Lord Xavier must be something else if he's got a White Nightmare. Most leaders on other islands only have Blue Nightmares," Greg remarked.

"True… Well, it's about time. Let's close the gates. Tonight, we'll hear more screams," the red-haired man said with a sinister grin.

The others chuckled in agreement, their callousness chilling.

Kael was once a vibrant youth, but now he was as sharp and cold as a hidden blade. He had been brought to this island as a captive, spared death only because Lord Xavier had subjected him to a diabolical experiment.

In fact, every child on this island—around ten years old—had been forced into the same experiment: binding with a Nightmare.

This was a world of Soul Pets, where those with talent could become Soul Pet Masters, forging contracts with Soul Pets to fight for them. Normally, Soul Pets served their masters faithfully. But on this island, things were different.

Here, the Nightmares were malevolent Soul Pets that could devour their masters' souls. The only way to survive was to grow stronger than the Nightmare, to outpace its hunger.

This was a brutal hell, where children faced not mentors but merciless captors. The weak would quickly become food for the Nightmares, while the strong would be relentlessly pursued.

It was a nightmare from which there was no awakening.

Tonight, the moon was absent, and the wind drove low clouds across the sky. The trees swayed and groaned, their cries like the wails of a grieving woman.

In the camp's clearing, a hundred children stood in neat rows, their faces a mix of numbness and fierce determination. Around them, ten overseers watched with cold indifference.

Near the gate stood three men in dark robes, their expressions icy. The central figure, a burly man named Victor, stepped forward and addressed the children with a cruel smile.

"Today, you'll face the Soul Pets alone. Only fifty of you will survive. The rest will die."

The children's faces paled as panic set in. The overseers began chanting, their words summoning translucent symbols that glowed with an eerie blue light.

"Howl!! Howl!!"

Suddenly, the air was filled with the terrifying cries of wolves. Ten savage Soul Pets—Fang Wolves—appeared, their sharp fangs bared and eyes gleaming with hunger.

The children trembled, some girls biting their lips to hold back tears. Fang Wolves were fearsome predators, relentless in their pursuit of prey. For these unarmed, untrained children, survival seemed impossible.

Yet, the overseers showed no mercy. The test had begun, and only the strongest would emerge alive.