The soft, golden light of morning filtered through the thin curtains of our room at the inn, painting warm streaks across the wooden floor. I woke up to the familiar, comforting weight of Elphyete snuggling against me. Her head was tucked neatly under my chin, and her breathing was slow and rhythmic, a peaceful contrast to the sudden eruption of noise coming from the hallway.
Even through the thick wooden door, I can hear Lucian and Aria screaming and running around. It sounded like they were having a full-blown race or perhaps a chaotic game of tag, their footsteps thundering against the floorboards and their voices echoing with high-pitched energy that seemed far too intense for this early in the day.
The commotion outside finally stirred Elphyete from her sleep. She shifted slightly, her silver hair brushing against my skin, and she slowly looked up at me with eyes that were still half-closed and dreamy. Elphyete woke up and kissed me gently, a soft lingering press of her lips that made the chaos in the hallway fade into the background.
"Good morning, Sogha," she whispered, her voice still thick with the huskiness of sleep.
I just smiled and said, "Good morning." I felt a swell of happiness in my chest, a quiet realization of how much had changed between us. We stayed there for just a moment longer, enjoying the stillness before the demands of the journey forced us to move. Eventually, we pushed the heavy blankets aside and stood up. We gathered our travel gear, smoothed out our clothes, and we left the room and ate downstairs in the common area. The inn's breakfast was simple but filling—fresh bread, thick jam, and hot tea—which we finished quickly as the rest of the class filtered down, looking varying degrees of tired and energized.
After preparing our bags and ensuring nothing was left behind, we headed out to the waiting carriage. Ma'am Cherha was already at the front, checking the harnesses of the massive horses. Sir Vael, true to form, was already lounging on the roof, seemingly asleep before the wheels had even turned. Once everyone was settled into the velvet-lined cabin, we left the village behind.
We spent the next three days traveling. The scenery shifted from the dense, ancient forests we had been camping in to wide, sweeping plains that seemed to stretch on forever under a bright, relentless sun. The journey was long, punctuated by the steady rhythmic clopping of hooves and the occasional stops to stretch our legs or water the horses. Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was a mix of quiet contemplation and sporadic bursts of laughter from Lucian and Aria. Elphyete remained mostly quiet during these days, often looking out the window or resting her head on my shoulder, her presence a constant, grounding comfort.
On the afternoon of the third day, the horizon began to change. Large, weathered stone walls appeared in the distance, and as we drew closer, a magnificent town built of white stone and draped in colorful banners came into view. It looked ancient, yet perfectly preserved, radiating a sense of historical weight.
As the carriage slowed to a crawl through the grand entrance gates, Ma'am Cherha called back to us, her voice carrying a hint of reverence. She said that this town is called the Town of the First Hero.
Inside the cabin, Lucian's ears perked up instantly. He leaned forward, his eyes wide with curiosity. "The First Hero?" Lucian asked.
Ma'am Cherha took a deep breath, settling into the role of a storyteller as the carriage moved slowly through the bustling streets. She told us that 10,000 years ago, the world was a vastly different place. There were three continents back then, and a multitude of races that no longer exist today. But the peace was shattered by the rise of the Demon King of that time. She described him as a battle-hungry and very powerful being, a creature of pure destruction.
According to the legends, he was the one who invented and created Death Magic. He possessed a monstrous amount of mana and a mastery of base magic that defied logic. Ma'am Cherha's voice grew solemn as she explained that he was so strong and terrifying that he destroyed two of the three continents entirely, erasing a lot of other races and making them extinct in his wake. He wasn't just a conqueror; he was an end-bringer.
She went on to describe the climax of his reign. He had fought all the kings and the most powerful warriors of every race existing at that time. In a display of power that still haunts historical records, he singlehandedly killed them all in just ten minutes. The world was on the brink of total annihilation, with no one left to stand against the tide of Death Magic.
But then, suddenly, an unnamed guy appeared. No one knew where he came from or what his lineage was. He carried a special sword that was so extremely powerful that people simply call it the Sword of the Hero now. This unnamed warrior possessed Divine Magic and Space Magic, a combination never seen before. Furthermore, Ma'am Cherha explained that his spirit could heal himself and anyone around him, which was the first RSA in history. He became a beacon of hope, saving people from the Demon King's army and the constant dangers of the scorched earth.
The mechanics of his power were even more legendary. Ma'am Cherha explained that he could fold his mana by 100, effectively multiplying his strength a hundredfold. However, the strain was immense; he would break into a sweat after using it only five times. When the Hero and the Demon King finally battled each other, the clash was cataclysmic. Even with his incredible power, the Hero struggled to damage the Demon King's barrier with just a few 100-fold attacks.
In a desperate bid to win, the Hero unleashed a relentless barrage. He attacked 100 times with a 100-fold attack, focusing every ounce of his will just to crack the Demon King's barrier and leave a single, tiny opening. In the process of creating that gap, the Hero was struck by the Demon King's Death Magic—a hit that should have been instantaneous for any other living being.
Knowing his time was up, the Hero poured every remaining drop of his life force and mana into one final, desperate move. He used a 1,000 mana fold attack. The sheer force of the blow killed the Demon King instantly, but the cost was absolute. The Hero died at the same time, sacrificing himself to save the final continent, only leaving his legendary sword behind as a testament to his existence.
The carriage was silent for a long moment as the weight of the story settled over us. Lucian broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically small. "Is the Death Magic that powerful?" he asked.
Ma'am Cherha nodded. She said that the Death Magic is so powerful that only the original Demon King truly mastered it and possessed the most potent form. Any other Death Magic users encountered in the modern era are only inferior to the original; they are mere shadows of that primordial terror.
Lucian looked out the window toward the roof where Sir Vael was likely still lounging. A thought seemed to strike him, and he turned back to Ma'am Cherha. "If Sir Vael got hit with the Death Magic of that Demon King... will he die?"
Ma'am Cherha didn't answer right away. She looked up at the ceiling of the carriage, toward Sir Vael, with a small, knowing smile. Sensing he was being discussed, Sir Vael's voice suddenly drifted down from the roof, calm and laced with his usual effortless arrogance.
"No," Sir Vael said. "I'm far more powerful than that Demon King."
He sounded as if he were stating a simple fact about the weather. He continued, explaining that Death Magic is only effective if the enemy is equal to you, inferior, or even just slightly stronger. If the gap in power is too great, the magic simply fails to take hold. "Besides," Sir Vael added with a lazy shrug we could almost hear, "I can erase him if we met."
Ma'am Cherha chuckled at his bluntness, and the tension in the carriage finally dissipated. We continued through the town, admiring the statues of the Hero and the ancient architecture until we went to look for another inn. We found a respectable establishment near the town square with white stone walls and climbing ivy. Elphyete stepped forward as usual, handling the coin and the arrangements. Elphyete paid for two rooms—one large room for the group and a separate one for us.
Once our bags were dropped off, we ate lunch in the inn's dining hall. The food here was excellent, featuring local spices and fresh vegetables grown in the fertile lands surrounding the town. After eating, the group split up to explore. Elphyete and I went outside to see the beautiful scenery of the town.
It was a breathtaking place. Waterfalls flowed from the upper tiers of the town into crystalline basins, and the air felt charged with a faint, lingering trace of ancient magic. We spent the afternoon walking through the cobblestone streets, and we went food shop to food shop, sampling everything that caught our eye. We tried honey-glazed skewers, fried dough dusted with sweet crystals, and chilled fruit juices. It was a nice date, a rare chance to feel like normal teenagers amidst the chaos of our adventure training. We laughed, shared bites of food, and simply enjoyed the warmth of the sun and each other's company.
As evening approached, we returned to the inn for dinner with the rest of the class. The mood was light until the topic of the meal itself came up. Sir Vael, apparently too lazy to wait for the inn's service, sent Lucian to go get some specific food from a nearby high-end vendor.
Lucian left with a grin, but when he returned much later, his hands were empty and he was wiping crumbs from his mouth. It became immediately obvious that he had succumbed to temptation and ate the food himself. Sir Vael got annoyed, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the empty-handed student.
Without a word of verbal reprimand, Sir Vael used his spirit and used his RSA to teleport Lucian instantly. A rift of shimmering white light opened and swallowed Lucian whole, sending him to Sir Vael's private Light Dimension. Sir Vael sat back down, looking satisfied, and mentioned that he probably tortured Lucian in there.
After a while, the air rippled again, and Lucian was unceremoniously dumped back into the common room. He didn't look physically hurt, but he was in a state of absolute hysteria. Lucian was laughing like crazy while tears were coming out of his eyes, his face flushed red and his breath coming in gasps. He scrambled across the floor and crawled to my back to hide, trembling with residual laughter.
Between fits of giggles and sobs, he managed to choke out what had happened. He said that he got tickled for ten days inside the Light Dimension. While only a few minutes had passed for us, time clearly moved differently in Sir Vael's realm. Lucian looked completely traumatized by the sheer duration of the sensation.
Sir Vael just smiled, seemingly refreshed by the exercise. He stood up, teleported away for a split second, and went back with the food he had originally wanted, setting it on the table with a calm "Hmph."
After we finally ate food as a group—Lucian still occasionally twitching and giggling behind me—the exhaustion of the day finally settled in. The stories of heroes and demon kings, the long travel, and the afternoon date had drained our energy. We said our goodnights to the rest of the class and headed to our room.
The room was quiet and cool, the moonlight spilling across the bedsheets. We prepared for sleep in a comfortable, familiar silence. Before sleeping, Elphyete leaned in and kissed me goodnight, her lips soft and warm against mine. I closed my eyes, the sound of the Town of the First Hero outside the window fading into a peaceful hum, and I drifted off to sleep.