Aroma

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Warning

The following novel contains material that may be harmful or traumatic to some readers.It contains graphic descriptions of murder, violence, and other unpleasant text.

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* images in "Characters" section are AI Generated Images and serve as inspiration and may not fully represent the author's vision. *

For a better experience, I recommend opening the Characters section so you can visualize the character as accurately as possible. The descriptions here will not be very detailed.

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"Looks like they made a mistake. With all the chaos that broke out in the Ghetto, I'm not even surprised." The girl tells me, but this just screwed up all my plans...

FUCK!

...

I... I'm screwed! Deeply screwed!

I don't even fucking know what Magnus Murus is... But judging by the faces around me, it's nothing good.

I immediately lose my appetite, even though I almost finished my food. But this has to be fixable, right?

"Then they have to correct the mistake, right?!" I say, still holding onto some hope. The girl smiles slightly.

"They won't go through that much trouble for one person... From what I've heard..."

"Magnus Murus is controlled by some... Void Wardens." The girl says with respect.

Void Wardens?

Even the name itself sounds terrifying.

"By the way... My name is Sasha Oswald." She offers her hand. Of course, I don't refuse and shake it.

"Tira Garana." I say with disappointment...

I lean back in my chair, hands behind my head...

Nothing is going my way...

What a great start to my new life...

...

"What even is this Magnus Murus? And these Wardens?" Since I've already accepted that I can't do anything about it... I might as well find out what this place is and how to... escape.

Escape?

Like always, but I had to leave the Ghetto anyway. Only one person kept me there. But I didn't want to stay forever, not even for him. Even though it broke my heart...

"Honestly, I don't know either, Tira. I'm from the same district as you, and that's why—"

"Magnus Murus is a massive... colossal wall." Someone across from Tira starts speaking, cutting Sasha off.

"A wall stretching from the shores of the Leftdutanian Sea all the way to the Rightdutanian Sea..."

"A wall that separates the North from the rest of the Kingdom of Taro." Says a man with scars across his face. Tira recognizes him immediately...

The son of Gideon Voss...

The one Gideon started a revolution for, and now slaughters Ekpesu soldiers.

Marcel Voss. Bald, scarred, the right side of his face burned. A disgusting mug.

"Well, well, look who we have here... Marcel. I'm surprised I didn't recognize you right away with that disgusting face of yours." I say straight to his face, but he doesn't react... Not even a twitch.

I immediately recall the chaos that broke out when his name was announced, along with the unit he'd be sent to. But still... He left the Ghetto. Any parent should be... what? Happy?

"Why wasn't your idiot father happy that you were chosen? Everyone wants to be chosen, don't they?" I ask. After all, I do want to understand the chaos he unleashed.

"My father had different plans for me. But things... didn't go his way."

"He likes to control everything he can. He's manipulative, but capable..." Marcel says, his voice void of any emotion. It unsettles me a little.

"And how do you know so much about Magnus Murus?" I ask, leaning on the table.

"I won't say." He replies instantly, his tone firm. Hmm... Whatever.

Marcel looks at me...

"But we can all look forward to what's coming. The Wardens are tough. Too tough." He says before taking a bite of his food—calm, civilized.

I watch him for a moment, then glance over at Sasha. She's in worse physical shape than I am. Will she even last?

She looks like an innocent girl, and I definitely wouldn't picture her in armor.

"GOAT HORN ON THE HORIZON!" A shout echoes from the ship's deck.

I need to get up there. Right now.

Everyone except Marcel stands up, and together, we hurry up to the deck...

The crowd pushes and shoves. Idiots. I simply slip through them with ease, gliding past their chaos until—eventually—I'm the first one through.

I step out of the ship's cabin first, and the warm, golden sunlight greets me before anyone else...

Then comes the scent of the sea.

The Ekpesu soldiers are already watching us. But I... I am staring at that... Goat Horn.

Even from a distance, I can see the many wagons, the horses, and the dozens of figures draped in black. Even from here, I can feel it—something completely different. They are watching us. Just waiting.

But more than that...

I see it. That massive, majestic wall. Black as night. That's all I can say about it for now...

Yet even from here, I can see it clearly. It's... unimaginable.

Is there...

Such a absurd thing?

The others join me, and all they can do is stare in silent horror.

"Get back inside! You have no business here!" One of the soldiers shouts.

"Oh, let them be... Let them stare at the nightmare..."

"At what's waiting for them." The second soldier smirks, patting the first one on the shoulder.

I keep my eyes locked on the wall, thoughts racing...

Can you even escape from something like this?!

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Room of Morian Thorne, Castle of Cedrion, Ekpesu

Celestis Calendar: Day 12, Month of Raphaelis (3/9)

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Varkas Thorne steps into his son's room, where the young man is in the middle of packing his things.

His father stands in the doorway, watching him. Disappointed. Regretful. But above all—furious. And for one very important reason.

"Morian... Why?" Varkas asks, his voice laced with disbelief.

Morian turns to his father. "Why what?" He replies before resuming his packing.

Varkas suddenly steps forward, aggressively grabbing Morian and turning him to face him.

"WHY ARE YOU SIDING WITH GIDEON?!" He raises his voice, his fury erupting. His son flinches, lowering his gaze.

"What are you—"

(Slap.)

Varkas strikes his son across the face. The same son he had always been proud of...

"Don't take me for a fool!"

"You think... your wife wouldn't tell me?"

Morian's eyes widen in shock. He stares at his father.

"Wait... You knew?!" He asks, disbelief in his voice.

Varkas holds his gaze for a moment... then exhales deeply, his anger giving way to exhaustion. His eyes drop.

...

He finally lets go of his son.

"I thought your dealings with him were about something else... Something trivial."

"But you... you gave him powder?!"

"I DIDN'T SUPPLY HIM WITH POWDER!" Morian shouts back at his father.

"I AM LOYAL TO MY LORD... AND LOYAL TO YOU, FATHER!"

"I WOULD NEVER BETRAY MY BLOOD OR MY LIFE!" He yells, his voice shaking with conviction.

Varkas stares at him, stunned.

Morian exhales sharply...

"I really didn't give him the powder. Or anything remotely related to military supplies..."

"You think I'd want that filth beyond the wall—"

"Speak of them with more respect, Morian!" Varkas cuts him off sharply.

"Don't forget, your mother was from there!" He continues, his voice firm.

"The only light I ever saw in the darkness..."

"So don't call them filth."

"Otherwise, you insult me as well." Varkas says, his voice calm but chilling.

...

Both men settle down. Varkas looks his son in the eye once again.

"What did Gideon come to you for? What made you work with him?" Varkas asks, his tone now composed.

Morian watches him for a moment, then leans against the table.

"He wanted information..."

"Insignificant information." Morian says, resigned.

Varkas doesn't stop questioning. What kind of information could it have been?

"What... kind of information?" Varkas presses.

Morian meets his father's gaze.

"Information about Gigantomortua... the Dead City. And about the waters beyond it."

"I gathered what I could from a few sources within the Kingdom of Dwallish... and passed it on to him."

"That's all."

"He offered me a fair reward. I thought it was irrelevant... You know, Gigantomortua has been a forgotten subject for ages. Who would even care about that place?" Morian says.

Varkas is surprised... and confused.

Gigantomortua was the dominant force of the entire continent a thousand years ago... A beacon of power across all Eight Worlds. Innovation, architecture, military might...

800,000 buildings. 5 million inhabitants.

Then came absolute devastation. A colossal wave, born from the Sea of Black Furies. According to surviving records, it was far greater... than the height of Magnus Murus.

It obliterated the entire Nullius region, wiping out the city, surrounding towns, and villages. Now, it is nothing but an empty wasteland—ruins and monsters, creatures born from the corpses of the fallen.

It was Archangel Jeremiah who forbade entry to the area, declaring it highly dangerous. Since then, apart from treasure hunters, no one has dared to care about it.

"Just information about a dead city? That's it?!" Varkas demands again, unwilling to believe it. But his son only nods in confirmation.

Before entering the room, Varkas was certain—his son had supplied Gideon with powder. But now, he finds himself lost in uncertainty. Yet, he trusts his son. And the idea that Morian would invent information about Gigantomortua seems unlikely.

Once again, he is left with doubt. Left in the dark. And it infuriates him.

"Pack your things and wait at home."

"I will try to convince Lord Alandor to let you stay as a Centurion. You'll serve under my command." Varkas says before walking away.

But even after his father leaves, the tension lingers.

A fire of anger ignites within Morian. He did nothing wrong. Nothing—except for this one trivial thing. It feels unjust...

But what enrages him even more is his wife. His beloved. The woman he trusted—who went behind his back and told everything to his father.

He clenches his jaw and continues packing his room.

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The Cliffs of Goat Horn

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We sail toward the cliffs in small boats. They watch us from above. Constantly. As if making sure none of us even think about escaping.

It's unsettling. Just looking at them commands respect. How many lives have they taken?

...

After a while, we reach the cliffs. Ropes dangle down from above—apparently, we're supposed to climb up. Fantastic.

My stomach is full. If I climb now, I'm just going to puke on the way up.

"GIDEON'S BASTARD GOES FIRST!"

"THE REST—ONE AT A TIME! AND DON'T WASTE TIME..."

"THE WARDENS DON'T LIKE DELAYS." The soldier shouts at us, as if he's just as afraid of angering them as we are.

Marcel climbs first. Effortlessly. Quickly. No hesitation.

Then the others start climbing...

There's Sasha. She looks uneasy—very uneasy. She glances at one of the soldiers...

"Sir... I... I don't think... I don't think I can climb this." Sasha's voice is filled with doubt. The soldier turns to her and laughs.

...

"That's too bad. Either you climb, or you go back." His voice is merciless.

Sasha freezes at the thought of returning to Ekpesu. Her eyes dart toward me, as if searching for reassurance. I get it. No one wants to go back. That life is over.

"You've got this." I say, flashing her a reassuring smile.

She takes a deep breath... grips the rope... and starts climbing. Struggling, but pushing through. With everything she has.

Well... I could help her. I'll climb right behind her.

"If you need to, push off me!" I call up to her.

She listens. Her feet try not to hurt me, but every now and then, they snag on my clothes or scrape my skin. It stings a little, but it's nothing. I've been through worse.

We climb.

...

After a while, we're almost at the top. Sasha, completely drenched in sweat, pushes off me one last time and finally climbs over the edge.

I follow right after her, scraped up from her boots.

"Fuck..." I collapse onto the ground, gasping for air.

"Shit, this is... this is hell..." Shit, I can't do this. And I feel like throwing up. But I hold it in—for now.

I glance at Sasha. She's still catching her breath—until a pair of black boots step in front of her. Black pants. A cloak reaching the ground.

Sasha looks up—and freezes in fear.

The stranger grabs her wrist and yanks her up to her feet.

Looks like these... Wardens aren't exactly welcoming.

Another pair of boots approaches me. No way in hell am I letting them pull me up.

I quickly push myself to my feet, wiping sweat from my forehead before looking ahead.

Standing right there—a figure in a black, ridged mask. What the fuck—

Before I can react, they grab my wrist, roughly—and snap a black bracelet around it.

It locks in place and tightens hard against my skin.

"Fuck! Would it kill you to be a little gentler?!" I snap.

The Warden doesn't respond. Doesn't even acknowledge me. He simply turns and joins a group of other Wardens, standing in a circle. Discussing something—except they aren't speaking.

Each of them carries two swords made of some black metal, with a black bow slung across their backs.

But something else catches my attention…

I glance down at the bracelet.

What the hell is this?

It's tight. And I can feel something—a strange force pulsing through my body. It's not making me stronger or anything... but it feels like it's binding me.

Suddenly, the Decurion (Captain) approaches with his soldiers.

"Hey there, boys!" The Captain greets them cheerfully.

The Wardens turn their gaze toward him—but say nothing. Just watching.

The smile vanishes from the Captain's face. He quickly glances at his men, then back at them.

"Alright... You've got exactly thirty of these idiots." He says flatly.

One of the Wardens finally speaks.

"There are thirty-one." His voice is deep, dark. The mask must be distorting their voices...

The Captain hesitates, caught off guard. He glances at the others—then at me.

"It's possible... Chaos broke out in the Ghetto after the selection. So don't be surprised if no one had time to double-check the count." The Captain explains.

The Warden remains silent for a moment.

"The agreed number is thirty." He states firmly.

The Captain sighs. "So there's one extra… That's a good thing, isn't it?" He mutters, clearly annoyed.

The Warden just stares at him. Then, with lightning speed, he draws one of his swords—aiming it directly at the Captain's throat.

"The agreed number is thirty. Take back the extra person… or there will be consequences." His voice is cold. Unshaken.

"The deal between your superiors and ours was clear—thirty people. We do not break agreements. We do not alter them."

The Captain freezes. His soldiers instantly draw their swords.

The Wardens, however... do nothing. They just stand there. Watching.

Are they really so skilled that just one of them could take on eighteen men—alone?

"Look... Man..." The Captain starts, trying to reason with him. "We have orders to escort you all the way to the wall. Because of this bastard." He gestures straight at Marcel Voss, son of Gideon Voss.

"He's high-value cargo. We're supposed to ensure his safe delivery."

"So no, we're not turning back." The Captain argues.

Then, suddenly—

Every single Warden tilts their head back, gazing up at the sky… as if listening to something.

Voices?

...

Moments later, they lower their heads, their gazes locking onto the Captain once more.

The Warden who spoke finally lowers his sword—and sheathes it.

The soldiers exchange confused glances.

The Captain exhales sharply, then turns to his men, who still have their weapons drawn.

"Lower your fucking weapons, idiots!" He snaps—despite having a blade at his throat just seconds ago.

He inhales deeply. Exhales. Then turns toward us.

"To the wagons... NOW!" He barks.

These bastards in black are dangerous. Extremely dangerous. You can feel it just by standing near them.

I turn my gaze to the wall.

And one thought races through my mind...

What the fuck is this place?

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Road to the Wall

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A few dozen minutes later

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I sit in the wagon, packed in with Sasha and about fifteen others.

Marcel... He gets an entire carriage to himself.

The horses pulling us are jet black. Stunning, really... Truly beautiful.

"Thanks for helping me." Sasha's voice breaks the silence beside me.

"I wouldn't have made it up without you." She says gratefully.

I only fear... that this is the only help I'll ever be able to give her.

Those Wardens are completely detached. Cold. I dread whatever's waiting for us inside the wall.

My gaze drifts to the bracelet.

If I really want to escape, this thing is going to be a problem. I'm guessing it's some sort of tracking device.

I never expected something like this to even exist.

It's going to make my escape a whole lot harder.

Many of us in the wagon start shaking. They're just as scared as I am.

But with me, it's harder to tell.

I'm more afraid that they'll send me back. The way they refused to accept even a single extra person earlier…

That kind of discipline doesn't come without intense training.

...

But the landscape around us is breathtakingly alive. Vibrant.

Even though it's just plains and meadows, it's mesmerizing…

Something I've never seen before.

I find myself thinking back—to the Ghetto.

To Timothee.

Maybe... there's a part of me that feels guilty for leaving him behind. But I couldn't keep dragging him with me...

He was the only reason I stayed there for as long as I did.

If I had been there without him… I would have tried to escape a thousand times over.

If you truly want to leave, you will always find a way.

...

I sigh.

If I gain power—any kind of power—fast enough... I'll come back for him.

But right now, he's just a weight on my shoulders. And I'm done carrying that weight.

I just want to live differently.

It sounds selfish, but if you had seen the Ghetto, if you had lived that life...

You'd understand.

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After an hour and a half.

Outside the gates of the huge west gate of the wall

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We're almost at the wall now.

That colossal structure looms before us, blocking any glimpse of what lies beyond…

Does it reach the heavens?

And the closer we get… the more the light seems to fade.

As if the wall itself is devouring it.

Up top, I spot military machines—dark, unmoving sentinels.

The entire structure is made of something... slick, black, and gleaming.

Massive towers—I count at least twenty before they fade into the distance.

My jaw drops.

Something this immense…

I wasn't expecting anything this majestically vast.

...

The gate begins to open.

We pass through.

The Ekpesu soldiers halt before the entrance—they don't follow. They immediately turn back.

Marcel's carriage, however, continues inside.

The wall isn't just tall…

It's wide. Massive.

We enter, and suddenly—we're in a vast hall.

Wardens roam everywhere.

This space is lined with exits and entrances on both the left and right, each framed by statues of Wardens—each one different. Above them, towering windows.

Beyond those windows... a white wall.

Wardens walk among us.

Hundreds? Maybe more.

The floor… made of the same material as the wall itself.

This place is…

Enormous.

Absolutely enormous.

FUCKING ENORMOUS.

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- Atrium Tenebris

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The wagons halt, and we are immediately ordered out.

Before I can even steady myself, two Wardens rush toward me.

They grab me—firmly, without hesitation— and drag me through one of the doors.

Yeah… they still have a problem with me being here.

Who knows… Maybe they're about to execute me.

I can't read them at all. Nothing in their stance, nothing in their movements. Nothing.

We walk through a long corridor—dimly lit, yet still drowning in shadow.

Countless staircases line the walls. We ascend one of them.

I wonder where they're taking me… but deep down, I think I already have an idea.

I remember that moment—when these eerie bastards suddenly started listening…

To something.

From the heavens?

Am I about to meet an Angel?

Who else could be in charge of something so monumental?

Who else could have the power to merge something this colossal with anything even remotely human?

A new kind of fear grips me.

But in the end… I don't really care.

The fact that I didn't rot and die in the Ghetto—

That's already a fucking victory.

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A Few moments later

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Fuck...

We finally reached the last step. Just climbing up here feels like punishment.

Do they do this every day?

This corridor is crawling with Wardens. More than before.

I stop for a moment—to catch my breath.

Surprisingly, the Wardens don't seem to care.

Maybe… they've been through this too?

After a few moments, I steady myself and keep walking.

At the end of the corridor, I see them—larger doors than the others, blacker, adorned with glowing white ornaments.

Above them, a name:

"Aroma Tenebris."

Even from a distance, the letters burn into my memory.

As if forcing me to remember them.

"Clavis victoriae est tenebras intus dominari..." I murmur to myself.

One of the Wardens glances at me—as if he heard me.

Finally, a reaction?

I use the moment.

"W-Where am I going?" I ask, my voice carrying a slight hesitation.

Still—silence.

Then—

"Magister Umbrae."

The one who looked at me finally speaks.

I freeze—shocked.

Even his fellow Warden looks at him, as if startled. And then—they communicate.

Not with words.

And then—nothing.

We reach the doors.

The Wardens turn away. They stand guard.

So… I'm supposed to enter alone?

A whispering breeze brushes against my back—like a sign.

I take a deep breath...

And step inside.

(Door Opening)

…

Another massive chamber.

A colossal training ground, its floor covered in sand.

Mannequins scattered around. Dozens of Wardens.

Some train. Some watch.

I catch a glimpse of their practice, and—

Their fighting style...

Flawless?

Their speed.

Their strength.

More than anything—their awareness. Their reflexes.

One Warden—alone—

Deflecting bolts.

Eight others firing crossbows at him.

And he counters every single shot—

With just his sword.

And then again. And again.

I take one step forward…

And instantly—

Everyone stops.

Their training halts.

Slowly, one by one, they begin to turn.

Turning toward me.

…

Fuck.

But whatever.

I've already stepped in. I keep walking.

I move forward, unshaken—but their eyes stay locked on me.

Their stares pierce through me, suffocating in their intensity.

The air itself feels heavy.

Yet, one figure stands out.

A woman.

Unmasked.

Training, meditating, her twin swords moving in fluid, precise arcs.

She hasn't noticed me.

Is she the one I'm supposed to meet?

I stop.

Just before the training grounds.

Before me—only sand, sweat, and blood.

She continues her movements, her blades flowing in an intricate, practiced rhythm.

Then—

A Warden steps behind me.

A firm but controlled push.

Telling me to move forward.

I should listen.

I walk.

Through the sand.

When was the last time I even saw sand like this...?

As I approach her, she still doesn't react.

I keep moving. Closer. And closer.

Then—

"Stop. I'll be finished soon."

The voice echoes inside my head.

A woman's voice.

I freeze.

I immediately look around—but there's no one.

Then, my eyes lock onto her again.

Her?

My gaze drops to the bracelet on my wrist.

And suddenly, it clicks.

They've been communicating through this thing.

The whole time.

So that's how it works?

Something like this actually exists?

It's almost like…

"Magic?"

She suddenly appears in front of me.

This time—she speaks aloud.

I flinch. Instinctively take a step back.

Her eyes.

Green. Intense.

She's stunning.

And she's a soldier? Here?

She slowly buries her swords into the sand, then meets my gaze.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Tira..."

She knows my name.

"I am Magister Umbrae... Celeste Draven."

To be Continued...

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