Chapter 14: Veylashen – Land sprouted from God’s ashes

As the sun peeked through the canopy of ancient, twisted trees of the Evernight Veil, Jin exhaled softly, tightening his grip on the hilt of his blade. With the silence of the forest as his backdrop, he swung his sword in wide arcs, his movements both fluid and precise. The morning air hummed with each cut, every slash sharper and more refined than the last. He had revised his routine once more, adapting it to maximize both physical and magical growth. After an hour of sword practice, he shifted to his spear forms—his body twisting, thrusting, and leaping through the open clearing with agile grace. His control had improved exponentially, thanks in no small part to his daily sparring sessions with Lyrderu.

Once done with melee drills, Jin turned his attention to ranged combat. From a makeshift rack, he picked up a curved short bow and began practicing archery. Each arrow flew straighter than the last, embedding into tree bark and stone with increasing accuracy. When he was satisfied, he practiced his throwing techniques, using sharpened knives and crafted javelins. He trained relentlessly, moving his body through each form with rhythmic focus, like a dancer repeating a sacred ritual.

Not far from him, Lyrderu observed in silence. The tall, lizard-like warrior mimicked some of Jin's techniques, subtly adjusting his own stances and swings. Though already a formidable fighter, Lyrderu clearly respected Jin's dedication. Their mutual training had forged more than strength; it had laid the foundation for trust.

Around noon, as usual, the two clashed in the center of the glade. Lyrderu's curved blade met Jin's sword with sharp clangs, their duel balanced in both force and skill. When the spar concluded, they rested beneath the shade, catching their breath. It was during this break that Jin finally spoke.

"I've never told you, have I?" Jin said quietly, sipping water. "I'm not from this world."

Lyrderu turned to him, eyes narrowing with curiosity but not suspicion. "Your scent lacks Veylashen's salt. Your eyes... they hunger like a hatchling's."

Lyrderu nodded, then paused before speaking. "This world... it is called Veylashen. A name passed down by elders and shamans. It means 'Sprouted through the dust of the dead divinities.' It is a land that bloomed from the blood and bones of gods and their champions."

Jin stared at him, his breath hitching as the name echoed in his very core. A shiver ran down his spine, not from fear, but from something far deeper—an overwhelming sense of fulfillment, of destiny snapping into place. His fingers clenched, his pulse quickened, and for a moment, the world around him faded into nothingness. This was it. The very thing he had only ever dreamed of, the longing he had carried from his past life—the chance to stand in a world not his own, to unravel its mysteries, to carve his own legend. Now, it was no longer just words on a page, no longer a fantasy conjured by his imagination. It was real. And he was living it.

"I need to know more," Jin continued. "This land, its people, its history. Everything."

That very evening, after a simple but hearty dinner of smoked meat and forest roots, Lyrderu returned to their fire with an aged, leathery parchment. It was roughly the size of a cloak, and as he unfurled it, intricate markings came into view—mountains, forests, rivers, and names scrawled in old script.

"This," Lyrderu said, "is the known map of Veylashen. We are here, at the heart—within the Evernight Veil. This forest stretches endlessly, a twilight-lit expanse where the remnants of divine power still linger."

He pointed toward the center of the map.

"South of us lies the southern half of the Evernight Veil, long contested by the Four Fractured Nations—Ostrya, Yssinia, Vespar, and Harken. These nations appear united but harbor their own secrets. Ostrya breeds shadow-beasts in their thickets. Yssinia poisons rival lands. Vespar traffics elf-made artifacts, and Harken… Harken worships the Black Moon."

Jin leaned closer.

"To the northeast," Lyrderu continued, tracing a clawed finger along mountain ridges, "are the Ironvein Mountains. Home to the dwarves, whose cities are buried beneath the stone. These tunnels border the Durakhov Mountains—now under demon occupation, led by Archduke Zalkath, a winged crimson demon. The Sundered Peak is where the fighting never stops. Dwarves forge anti-demon weapons in secret, still resisting the tide."

He moved his finger northwest.

"Here lies the Varetheim Empire—an ambitious human nation bent on conquest. They have been kidnapping elves, trafficking them in exchange for demon-blood elixirs to strengthen their armies. To the west of Varetheim is Frostmantle Forest, a neutral zone where refugees from all races find solace. Elves, dwarves, beastkin, and even dissident humans. That forest is where you may find allies."

Then his claw traced southwest.

"This is the Radiant Dominion—a land founded on equality and unity. It is home to many races. They are now at war with the Varetheim Empire, resisting expansion. Their armies are fierce, but they lack cohesion. Yet, among them are adventurers of great renown."

Finally, Lyrderu motioned to the lower edge of the map.

"Far to the southeast, across broken coastlines and fractured politics, lies Silvershroud—an island of elves, cloaked in mist and secrecy. They rarely make contact with the mainland, but their scouts are always watching. It is said they seek only balance… but they have begun to take notice of you."

Jin remained silent, absorbing it all. The map, the nations, the tension… and the Black Moon Shrine that stood quietly at the edge of the Evernight Veil—guarded by Lyrderu's tribe.

That night, Jin stared at the flickering flames, resolve settling into his bones.

He would visit them all. He would uncover the truth of this world and the shrines scattered across its land.

Time passed. Months folded into half a year.

Jin's body moved with near-perfect precision now. Every motion was fluid, instinctive. He had learned every known language in Veylashen through long nights of conversation, guided by Lyrderu's patience. His efforts were rewarded with a passive skill:

*Language Comprehension. - Able to understand and speak any language of the world *

More than that, he successfully merged his buff-type skills into a single, dominant active ability—Buffs UP. When activated, it surged nearly all of his stats by 40% for ten minutes, granting him an edge in the battles to come.

His level climbed to the mid-40s, though his stat growth had slowed. Yet, what numbers could not express, his real-world experience did. Constant sparring with Lyrderu had sharpened his instincts, balanced his posture, and honed his reaction speed to levels far beyond anything he could have achieved alone.

More importantly, Jin now held something far greater than skills and numbers—he had a comrade. A native. A teacher. A friend.

The pieces were in motion.

And Veylashen had begun to stir.