Chapter 6 : The Birthplace of Exiles

Two years had passed since Zeo was cast into the Corrosive Magic Mist—an infamous forbidden zone feared by all nearby creatures. But he didn't die. In fact, it was within that cursed land that he was reborn.

The underground tunnel that had once seemed like a death trap became his training ground. Every single day for two years, Zeo fought against beasts and dark entities lurking within the mist. He nearly lost his sanity—but it was that very madness that forged his new strength.

No mentor. No instructions. Only blood, instinct, and a burning will to survive.

Every attack, every movement, every breath—he studied it all. He learned to read the enemy's behavior, sense the energy flowing within his own body, and detect vibrations in the ground before monsters appeared. But beyond physical battle, he began to notice something deeper.

After hundreds of days trapped in the suffocating, skin-burning mist, Zeo realized there was a rhythm to it—almost as if the mist followed some unseen logic. He observed the flow, the dense points, and the times it would surge or retreat. Curiosity drove him deeper—both literally and metaphorically.

One night, while digging at a wall of glowing rock deep in the tunnels, his hand struck a solid surface—an ancient magic stone, still pulsing with a faint, lingering energy. And suddenly, it all made sense.

With the help of his Dimension Eyes and relentless analysis, Zeo discovered that the mist wasn't a natural phenomenon. It was a residue—magical discharge from ancient stones buried beneath the earth.

Through countless experiments and countless wounds, Zeo found that by shifting or unearthing the stones in specific ways, he could control the mist's release patterns. He arranged them into a circular formation, creating a safe zone at the center of the vortex.

What was once a graveyard of hope became a hidden sanctuary—for those who understood the secrets of the world. Pure energy flowing from the magic stones slowly seeped into the bodies of anyone who remained there long enough—whether absorbed intentionally through technique or passively through constant exposure.

Every inch of that underground world became a forge—not only for the body, but also for the soul. The thick air taught endurance. The darkness taught calm. And the flowing energy... transformed those who endured into something more than human.

Above ground, the once-deadly mist now stood like a sacred barrier—an organic magic circle guarding the oasis of new life amidst a dying forest.

To outsiders, it was a cursed land. But to Zeo, it was a beginning.

Once he discovered how to enter and exit the magical mist freely, he began building—not with bricks, but with hardened branches from the forest outside the barrier. He ventured beyond the mist, collecting wood, plants, and even crafting a primitive water system from stone.

He had no plans to build a palace. No grand ambitions. He just wanted to live. To survive.

Each night, he sat atop a tall rock in the center of his clearing, gazing at the sky.

Sometimes, Kaira's voice echoed in his mind. Her gentle laugh. Her glowing face as she fed him meals. Zeo didn't cry anymore. But his heart was far from healed.

I'll live... and make this place peaceful enough, that if you ever look down from wherever you are, you'll know I didn't give up.

Zeo's appearance had changed dramatically. He stood taller, his build was powerful, and his face was rough with a scruffy beard. His eyes—sharp and alert—were no longer those of a common village man.

But still, he knew nothing of advanced magic manipulation. His abilities were limited to Battle Magic: enhancing muscles, unleashing shockwaves, absorbing minor energy for quick bursts, and sharpening reflexes.

His body was trained to such an extreme that he could dodge an arrow-speed strike without using Entra or Vita. Pure physique. Pure instinct.

He called his combat style: Survival Mode.

One day, Zeo wandered farther beyond the mist than usual. The air in the Forbidden Forest stung his skin. Beast sounds echoed from every direction.

He crept forward, searching for the source—only to find something unexpected.

Beneath the shade of a towering tree in the heart of the overgrown forest lay the figure of a young woman. Her skin was pale, her body thin and covered in scratches—some still bleeding, some dried. Her long, silver-white hair veiled most of her face. Two cat-like ears peeked from atop her head, and a small, twitching tail curled behind her.

Zeo approached cautiously, eyes narrowed. This… wasn't human. But it wasn't exactly a beast either. Her form was humanoid—yet too unusual to be easily categorized.

What is this creature? Beast...? Not quite. Human? No... Could she be another race? Zeo thought, confused.

To be sure, he activated his Dimension Eyes to analyze her identity.

Immediately, a wave of information surged into his mind—clear and vivid, as if whispered by an invisible voice. Zeo remained still, staring at the frail body under the tree, as the girl's profile formed perfectly in his thoughts.

She was not an ordinary human. She was a Demi-Human—a hybrid of human and djinn, bearing the blood of a White Fox Beastkin in her ancestral line. A young woman, roughly nineteen years old by Azzaleth's time standard.

But what shocked Zeo wasn't her race—it was her energy levels.

Her Entra reached 21,000, her Vita was even higher at 32,000, and though her Arma was relatively small, it still registered at 5,000. There was also something darker—Helos Energy, faint but present enough to raise red flags.

Zeo frowned. That amount of energy was no joke—exceptional, even for a seasoned survivor. Yet her body… looked close to death.

Is she dangerous? Or... just another victim of this cruel world?

He hesitated. For a moment, he turned to walk away. But from behind the leaves, a fragile voice called out.

"M-Mister… p-please… help me…"

It was barely a whisper. Dry. Shaky. Like a throat that had long forgotten how to speak.

Zeo stopped. His heart stirred. Slowly, he turned back.

He walked closer, then knelt and gently lifted the girl into his arms. Her chest rose and fell weakly—she was still alive, but not for much longer.

"Demi-human..." he muttered softly, recalling ancient lore about hybrid races once thought to be mere myths.

Without another word, Zeo carried her in his arms and began the walk back—through the Forbidden Forest, into the mist barrier, and into the sanctuary he had built with blood and willpower.

And there… the journey began.

The journey of one man gathering the forsaken.

The journey of an exiled soul... becoming the leader of a new destiny.