After the battle between The Hero and The Darkness Lord
The capital city of Valerion was a masterpiece of "False Peace," a sprawl of white marble and blue-tiled rooftops that shimmered like a desert mirage under the relentless mid-morning sun.
The air was a chaotic symphony of life: the rhythmic clack-clack of horse-drawn carriages on cobblestones, the aggressive bartering of spice merchants from the Silverwood borders, and the distant, metallic ringing of hammers from the Knight's Quarter.
It was a city built on the edited pages of history, where the shadows were swept into the back alleys to make room for the golden radiance of the "First Hero's" legacy.
Through the thick crowd of the Central Plaza, a young man moved with a stride that was almost too rhythmic to be natural. He was a vibrant splash of color against the drab greys and browns of the commoners.
He was clad in vivid, fire-red leathers, reinforced with polished bronze buckles that caught the light with every step.
His hair was his most striking feature—a wild, unruly mane of brilliant crimson that seemed to glow from within.
Beneath that hair, his eyes were sharp, matching rubies that reflected an unwavering, almost infectious resolve.
This was Blade Lunaria.
To the veterans of the city, he was a punchline. He was 'the boy who failed the adventurer examination four times,' a recurring character in the tavern stories of Valerion.
Yet, as he pushed open the massive oak doors of the Adventurers Guild, Blade did not carry the weight of a failure.
He carried himself with the light-heartedness of a man who had already won the game before it started.
The moment the heavy doors groaned open, the humid, beer-scented air of the Guild Hall rushed out to meet him.
Conversations died, replaced by a wave of snickering that traveled from the bounty boards to the bar.
"Look who it is! The Red Ghost is back!" a burly man shouted, slamming a wooden mug onto a table.
"Five is a lucky number, kid! Maybe this time you'll manage to draw your sword without tripping!" another jeered, followed by an explosion of rough laughter.
Blade didn't flinch. His lips curved into a wide, gentle smile—a masterpiece of psychological masking.
Laugh all you want, he thought, his analytical mind recording every face and mana signature in the room with clinical precision.
Today, the board changes.
He approached the mahogany counter where a young receptionist with long, chestnut-brown hair was sorting through a stack of parchment.
She looked up, her eyes widening in a mixture of pity and disbelief.
"Blade-san… you're back again?" she asked, her voice dropping to a sympathetic whisper.
Blade chuckled softly, a bright, melodic sound that seemed to push back the gloom of the hall. He reached up and scratched his cheek with a sheepish grin.
"Yes. I'd like to take the adventurer examination one more time. I have a feeling the wind is in my favor today."
The receptionist let out a long, weary sigh and pressed a hand to her forehead.
"Blade-san, this is your fifth attempt. The regulations are strict. If you fail today, the Guild will blacklist you from testing for the next three years. Do you truly understand the risk?"
"I understand," Blade replied, his voice steady and vibrant.
"But I believe this time will be different. I've been practicing."
Softened by his persistent optimism, she dipped a quill into an inkwell.
"Alright… I'll make the arrangements. The training yard is clear. May the Goddess Elmyria watch over you."
The training yard was a dusty rectangle of sun-baked earth surrounded by high stone walls.
Waiting in the center was a mountain of a man, his bare chest crisscrossed with jagged scars from encounters with high-tier mana beasts.
He was a Rank-B veteran, a gatekeeper who took pleasure in breaking the dreams of the weak.
"So, you're the kid who can't pass a basic combat test," the examiner grinned, revealing a missing tooth. He hefted a heavy training mace.
"Don't expect me to go easy just because you wear pretty red clothes."
Blade stood his ground, his hand reaching over his shoulder to grasp the hilt of his weapon.
It was a massive crimson blade, currently wrapped in tattered white cloth to hide its intricate Abyssal runes. His red eyes narrowed, the lovable failure mask briefly slipping to reveal a sliver of the Darkness Lord within.
"This time... I'll win," he said.
The trial began with a conceptual shockwave. The examiner charged, his mace whistling through the air with enough force to shatter stone.
But Blade was no longer there. He moved like a glitch in reality, his feet barely touching the dust.
...
He unsheathed the blade just enough for the edge to catch the light.
Suddenly, the weapon ignited. It wasn't ordinary fire; it was a condensed, crimson flame that hissed with the sound of a thousand snakes.
He met the examiner's strike with a clinical parry that sent a vibration through the man's entire skeleton.
"Impossible… you've gotten this strong?!" the examiner roared, swinging again.
Blade didn't answer. He ducked beneath the arc of the mace and, in a single fluid motion, brought his burning blade to rest against the examiner's jugular.
The heat from the crimson flames singed the man's beard.
The battle had lasted exactly six seconds.
The burly man dropped his weapon, the heavy iron thudding into the dirt. He let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
"You've won. There's no doubt about it. That wasn't luck, kid. That was mastery."
Watching from the observation balcony, the guild receptionist blinked in shock, her quill falling from her hand.
"Blade-san… you really passed?"
---
Thirty minutes later, Blade stood before the counter as she handed him a freshly minted Adventurer's Card. It was forged from a rare, silver-tinted alloy that hummed with a low magical frequency.
Name: Blade Lunaria
Rank: C
"Rank C," she explained, her voice trembling with a new found respect.
"It is exceptionally high for a beginner. It reflects the overwhelming swordsmanship and fire-affinity you displayed. Remember—adventurers of Rank-C and above are recognized as sovereign agents. You can travel freely between the four kingdoms without paying travel taxes or national checkpoints. Merchants spend lifetimes trying to earn this privilege."
Blade accepted the card with both hands, bowing slightly.
"Thank you. This means the world to me. Truly."
Nearby, the guild members who had mocked him were now huddled in stunned silence.
"Rank C on his first success? Who is this guy?"
"He must have been hiding his power all along..."
Curious, the receptionist leaned over the counter.
"Um… Blade-san, I have to ask. Why do you want to be an adventurer so badly? With your skill, you could have been a Royal Guard or a noble's retainer."
Blade looked at her, his red eyes shining with a fake but convincing passion.
"Because I want to see the world of Velgrith. I want to see every kingdom, climb every mountain, and sail every sea. I want to meet people, help them where the law cannot, and carry this smile with me wherever I go."
For a moment, the receptionist was speechless. She looked at the boy in red and saw not a failure, but the opening chapter of a legend.
She didn't know she was looking at the man who intended to dismantle the very foundations of the world he claimed to love.
"Then take your first quest, Blade-san," she said, pulling a scroll from the 'Urgent' bin. "A Rank-C extermination request. A high-level Orc nest has established itself in the western Ironwood Forest. They've been raiding supply carriages from Silverwood."
Blade accepted the scroll without a heartbeat of hesitation.
"I'll take it."
He departed Valerion as the sun began to tilt toward the west.
Deep within the ancient woods, where the canopy was so thick it swallowed the day, he found something the Guild scouts had missed—a hidden Orc dungeon.
The air was thick with the stench of raw meat and beastly mana. Inside, hundreds of orcs roared, led by a massive Orc King whose skin was as hard as obsidian.
Blade's sword burst into flames once more, the crimson light illuminating the damp cave walls.
"Oh… so this is the beginning of my journey," he whispered, his voice dropping to the resonant bass of the Darkness Lord.
He leaped into the nest. He was a whirlwind of fire and steel, cutting through the orcs with a precision that bordered on the divine.
The Orc King lunged, its massive club swinging for Blade's head, but the boy in red simply stepped through the strike.
He drove his burning blade straight through the monster's heart, ending the encounter in a violent, purifying blaze.
The dungeon was empty of treasure, but Blade didn't care about gold. He collected every orc corpse, storing them in his high-capacity magic bag—an artifact that utilized Abyssal space to remain light as a feather.
When Blade returned to the Guild Hall, the atmosphere was thick with tension. He walked to the counter and slammed the severed head of the Orc King onto the wood.
"The quest is complete," he announced, his cheerful smile back in place.
Gasps echoed through the hall.
"That's... the Orc King! He was supposed to be a Rank-B threat!"
"He took out the whole nest alone?"
The receptionist quickly appraised the remains, her hands shaking.
"For the Orc King and its kin... Blade-san, your reward is over 5,000 gold coins. This is a record-breaking first quest."
Blade smiled, pocketing the heavy pouch of gold.
"That's more than enough. Thank you."
With his newfound wealth, he visited the city market, passing by the expensive war-stallions until he found himself drawn to a small, dusty pen at the edge of the square.
Inside was a brown horse with a tangled mane and eyes that burned with a stubborn, unruly fire.
"That horse?" the merchant warned, spitting on the ground.
"He's a nightmare. Stubborn, mean-spirited, and he's kicked three of my best grooms. No one wants him."
Blade stepped into the pen and gently stroked the horse's neck.
As his hand made contact, he released a tiny fraction of his Shadow Core—just enough for the animal to sense the true predator standing before it.
The horse's eyes softened instantly, and it let out a low, respectful whinny.
"I think we'll get along just fine," Blade said, glancing at the merchant.
Seeing the Rank-C badge on Blade's chest and the absolute submission of the animal, the merchant nodded quickly.
"Alright. He's yours, kid. Take him before he changes his mind."
---
Before leaving for the Silverwood border, Blade returned to the modest house at the edge of the forest. It was a place filled with the warmth of a family that didn't know they were raising a monster.
"I finally became an adventurer," Blade said, stepping through the door. His parents— Elara and Marcus—looked up from the hearth, their eyes wide.
"I'm an adventurer now, Father, Mother, little sister."
Marcus, the retired B-Ranker, stood up and gripped his son's shoulder.
"We never doubted you, Blade. Not for a second."
His little sister, a girl with shimmering hair like their mother's once was, hugged him so tightly she nearly knocked him over.
"Onii-chan, don't forget us! You have to promise you'll come back with stories!"
Blade gently embraced her, his red eyes softening with a genuine, buried warmth.
"I promise. I'll come back with stories from every corner of the world."
He handed a large portion of the gold pouch to his mother.
"Please use this for the house. Fix the roof before the winter storms hit."
"Stay safe, Blade," Elara whispered, tears glistening in her eyes as she watched him prepare his gear.
With a final wave, Blade mounted his new carriage. The brown horse stamped the ground proudly, its stubborn nature now channeled into a singular devotion to its master.
"Let's head to Silverwood Kingdom," Blade commanded.
The carriage carrying the boy in red rolled forward, leaving the "False Peace" of Valerion behind.
It was a blazing dream on the surface, a heroic opening chapter to a legend that the commoners would one day sing about.
But beneath the red clothes and the cheerful smile, the Darkness Lord was finally moving his first piece across the continental board.
And so began the journey of Blade Lunaria, the adventurer destined to face a fate far greater than himself.
---
✦ To be continued...