Edward rolled his eyes, moving quickly to deliver a sharp strike. "Jealous? Hardly. I wouldn't trade my skill for all the clumsiness in the world."
Harald blocked the blow with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ah, but you see, Edward, my clumsiness kept you on your toes. It was actually a clever strategy."
Edward scoffed, easily dodging another awkward swing from Harald. "Clever strategy? More like a circus act. I can’t believe I was risking my life fighting alongside you." He shook his head, shooting Harald a playful glance before refocusing on the fight.
Harald grinned widely, his sword meeting Edward's with a loud clash. "Well, consider it an honor, my friend. Not everyone gets to witness such a spectacular display of... let's call it 'creative' fighting."
Edward smirked, his movements growing sharper and more precise. "Trust me, Harald, I’ll be sure to tell stories of your incompetence for generations. It’ll be a warning for any would-be warriors."
Harald chuckled, easily deflecting Edward's strikes with exaggerated flourishes. "Ah, yes. The legend of Edward, the warrior who couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. I can already picture the bards singing about me."
Edward’s laughter echoed through the battlefield. "Well, Harald, if you’re aiming for fame, you’re definitely on the right track. People will remember you as the man who made everyone rethink their decision to become a warrior."
As the battle raged on, their banter never ceased, each sarcastic remark only pushing them to outwit and outlast the other. But amid their playful sparring, tragedy struck. A sudden, swift strike from Harald found its mark, piercing Edward's chest and sinking deep into his heart. Edward collapsed to the ground, his laughter cut short, his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked up at Harald, his face filled with silent pleading. Harald felt a sharp tug in his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. The air around him seemed to grow still as he watched his friend fall, knowing it was over.
Harald's smirk faded, his expression transforming into one of genuine remorse. "Edward... I didn’t mean for it to end like this."
Edward coughed weakly, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Well, Harald, at least you can add 'accidental killer' to your list of accomplishments. Congratulations."
Character Status
Name: Edward Charles
Level: 8/12
Power Level: 85,000/100,000
Race: Kaelith
Clan: Shadowmoon Clan
Blood Type: Verdant
Blood Color: Green
Resurrection Options.
Reset System
Confirm reset?
This will revert all state points and skills to the beginning.
Yes OR No
Revive Character
Cost: 5,000 EXP
Cooldown: 24 hours
Confirm Revive
No, do not revive
Beast Status: Infurnace
Current Master: None
Status: Seeking a new master
Abilities:
-Fire Manipulation
-Heat Resistance
Beast Options
1-Claim Beast
New Master required
Accept Infurnace
2-Set Infurnace to act independently
The beast will operate on its own, seeking its own goals.
Confirm independence.
Harald's Choice.
Harald does not want to reset his system. He can choose to:
-Preserve current skills and attributes.
-Spend resources to revive without a reset.
-Seek allies or other means to regain lost strength or status.
System Notifications.
Warning: Resetting your system will erase all progress.
Alert: Infurnace’s abilities may change if it operates independently.
He didn’t reset his system. His final moments would be spent lying beside Edward. Harald thought that seemed right.
Edward’s eyes rolled back, blood pouring from his mouth, running down his chin and onto his shoulder. It pooled under his head like a dark red puddle. Edward died right in front of him, and Harald couldn’t stop it.
All the battles he’d fought now felt pointless—just reasons for Edward’s death. Edward was his only friend. Why did it have to end this way? Why did he have to die?
Harald lifted Edward’s head onto his lap, wiping blood from his mouth. He cried, tears streaming down his face. His chest rose and fell fast, but he didn’t care how long he sat there, watching blood drip from Edward’s chest and his own fingers.
Harald wiped his tears, his hands trembling as he gently moved Edward's lifeless body aside. The weight of the loss pressed heavily on his chest, but he couldn’t allow himself to linger in sorrow. He needed to honor his friend. He began to dig, each strike of his shovel heavy with grief. The hole he dug was shallow, just deep enough to bury Edward, but every inch of earth he moved felt like an eternity. When the grave was ready, he carefully lifted Edward's body, cradling it in his arms for the last time, and gently placed him inside the earth.
As he covered his friend with dirt, the finality of it all settled in. When the grave was complete, he knelt before it, his body shaking with sorrow. Bowing his head, his hands pressed against his knees, he sobbed uncontrollably. The grief surged through him like a wave, drowning him in an ocean of loss. The tears flowed freely, and for a moment, he couldn’t think of anything but the emptiness left by Edward’s death.
Eventually, Harald forced himself to stand, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him. He looked up at the sky, now dark, the rain still falling relentlessly. The world around him seemed quiet, though his mind was anything but. He glanced over the battlefield, where the corpses of fallen soldiers lay scattered. At least a dozen bodies littered the field, dead or dying. The wounds they bore were severe, but it was their faces that haunted him—twisted in fear, pain, and confusion, frozen in their final moments.
As his grief began to subside, a thought cut through the haze of sorrow—Isaac. The child he had promised to protect. He couldn’t fail him, not like this. With renewed urgency, he turned and began to run toward Isaac's house, desperation fueling his every step. He couldn’t afford to waste another moment.
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As the moon hung high in the night sky, casting an eerie, pale light over the village, Harald stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes took in the horrifying scene before him—the village he had known and once called home was now a place of utter destruction. What had once been peaceful and vibrant was now consumed by flames and chaos. Homes, crops, and buildings were all engulfed by the wild blaze, and the acrid scent of smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating.
He could hear the panicked cries of the villagers, their desperate screams echoing in the night as they fled for their lives. The invading clans had descended upon the village like a swarm of locusts, destroying everything in their path with no mercy. Fear gripped Harald’s heart, but it was quickly replaced by a fierce, burning determination. He couldn't just stand there and watch it all burn.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. He knew what he had to do. He sprinted toward Isaac’s house, moving with purpose through the chaos. As he dodged falling debris and leaped over burning structures, his mind stayed focused on one goal—he had to save the child. The village might be lost, but Isaac couldn’t be.
When he finally reached Isaac’s home, he found the child peacefully asleep, unaware of the horrors unfolding just outside. The burn mark on Isaac's hand still glowed faintly, the red light pulsing intermittently, occasionally forming a strange ring. Without hesitation, Harald grabbed a small cloth, wrapping it around his hand to stifle the strange, glowing burn.
He didn’t waste a second more. He scooped up Isaac and the book, placing both carefully inside a basket. His only thought now was to protect this child, to ensure he survived, no matter what. With everything happening around him, Harald knew he had to find a safe place—somewhere far from the devastation and violence tearing their world apart. Time was running out, and he couldn’t afford to fail.
With a heavy heart, Harald made his way toward the enigmatic lake, its surface shimmering under the moon’s cold light. The lake whispered secrets in the wind, tales of unfathomable depths and mysteries that had remained hidden for centuries. Harald didn’t know what awaited them there, but in that moment, he understood that it was the only chance he had left to ensure the child’s survival.
Before reaching the water's edge, Harald paused and pressed his forehead gently against Kun Peng's head, as if bidding a final, quiet farewell. The bond between them was strong, and the moment felt like the closing of a chapter. Taking a deep breath, he turned his focus to the basket. With steady hands, he carefully placed it on the water’s surface, ensuring that the child would be safe as it began its journey into the lake's vast, dark waters. The ripples from the basket’s light touch spread outward, carrying the basket deeper into the abyss. His heart ached as he watched it drift, filled with both hope and uncertainty.
Kun Peng, hesitant and unsure, soared into the air beside the basket, his wings cutting through the night air with a grace that spoke of freedom. But the bird didn’t follow the basket into the water—fear held him back. The unknown depths of the lake were too much even for the brave creature.
Harald’s gaze stayed fixed on the basket as it moved further into the distance, his heart heavy with a mix of longing and despair. He prayed for the child’s safety, but he knew the path ahead was uncertain. In the silence of the night, his mind wandered, caught in the fragile hope that this act would be enough.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the figure emerging from the shadows behind him—silent and deadly, closing in with the intent to strike. The danger was approaching, but Harald was too consumed by his own grief and the fate of the child to see it coming.
Without warning, a sword slashed across his chest—white-hot pain ripped through him. The force knocked him to the ground, breathless. Blood soaked his clothes, his hands trembling as he pressed them against the wound. He had fought so hard to protect that innocent life… yet the secrets of the lake remained hidden.
His mind reeled—who had attacked him? Blinking through the haze, he turned his head and saw a shadowy figure, face hidden behind a cruel mask. This wasn’t one of the warring clan students. No… it was one of the Banshees, a ghost clan serving the Nerathis.
The Banshees were deadly spirits—harbingers of death. Their screams warned of coming disaster, and they only appeared when chaos was near. Harald gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, forcing himself to stand on shaking legs. He wouldn't give up—not now. He tried to fight, to strike back, but his body betrayed him. Collapsing again, the agony consumed him.
System Level: 8/12
Power Level: 90,000/100,000
Beast Type: Kun Peng
Name: Harald Freysson
Level: 10/12
Clan: Ironhart Clan
Race: Kaelith
Blood Type: Verdant
Blood Color: Green
Resurrection Options
1. Reset System
- Confirm reset? This will revert all state points and skills to the beginning.
- Yes OR No
2. Revive Character
- Cost: 5,000 EXP
- Cooldown: 24 hours
- Confirm Revive
- No, do not revive
Beast Status: Kun Peng
Current Master: Harald Freysson
Status: Active
Abilities:
- Flight
- Energy Manipulation
Beast Options
1. Claim Beast
- Current Master: Harald Freysson
2. Set Kun Peng to act independently
- The beast will operate on its own, seeking its own goals.
- Confirm Independence
System Notifications
Warning: Resetting your system will erase all progress.
Alert: Kun Peng’s abilities may change if it operates independently.
The system Repeats
Warning: Resetting your system will erase all progress.
Warning: Resetting your system will erase all progress.
Warning: Resetting......________________
As the sun rose, the darkness of the night faded, revealing a grim sight. Lifeless bodies were scattered everywhere, each one a reminder of lives cut short. The once lively Mistwood village was now a desolate wasteland. The villagers, who had lived there for generations, were gone, leaving behind a heavy silence. The air was thick with a foul stench that grew stronger with each passing moment. A strange noise, a steady clanking, echoed through the village. Something unknown pulsed with life deep within the ruins.
Word of the village's destruction spread quickly, shocking nearby communities. People whispered about curses, supernatural forces, and dark conspiracies, while others feared a deadly disease might be to blame.
In the nearby village of Umbralyn, nestled deep in the mountains, the atmosphere was peaceful and calm. Surrounded by lush greenery and towering peaks, Umbralyn was a small village with stone houses and traditional tiled roofs. Its narrow cobblestone streets invited visitors to explore and discover its quiet charm.
The villagers of Umbralyn were kind and welcoming, known for their strong sense of community and hospitality. They were skilled in taming small beasts and their spirit animals. As you walked through the village, friendly faces greeted you, and the sounds of children laughing and playing filled the air.
Nature was central to Umbralyn’s way of life. The village was surrounded by stunning landscapes—cascading waterfalls, crystal-clear streams, and dense forests full of wildlife. The air was fresh and invigorating, offering a sense of peace and renewal.
The villagers held traditional festivals throughout the year, celebrating their customs and beliefs. Colorful costumes, lively music, and delicious food brought an energy of joy and celebration to the village that was contagious.
In Umbralyn, time seemed to slow down. People took pleasure in simple things, like sipping tea in a cozy teahouse, meditating in a quiet temple, or gazing at the starry night sky. It was a place for peace and reflection, a sanctuary for those seeking balance and tranquility.
One day, Ulfr Wind, a fisherman from Umbralyn, was fishing in the Ebon River when he spotted something unusual. A basket floated down the river, untouched by the destruction that had struck Mistwood village. The lake, now feared by the villagers and called "the ghost lake," had become a place of mystery. Intrigued, Ulfr pulled the basket ashore and discovered a baby inside, peacefully nestled within its confines.
Ulfr looked down at the baby, whose innocent eyes seemed to plead for help. He scanned the area, but since it was early in the morning, no one else was around. With a soft sigh, he gently picked up the baby and carried him home. "I don't know, my love," he said, his voice filled with worry. "I found him in a basket floating in the ghost lake."
"Floating in the river? But whose baby is this?" Liv Wind, his wife, asked as she took the baby from his arms.
"I don't know whose baby he is, but we can't just leave him there. He needs us," Ulfr said, his hand tenderly patting the baby's head.
Ulfr watched quietly as Liv gently cradled the baby, her fingers brushing over his tiny face. After a long silence, Ulfr hesitantly spoke. "Can we adopt him?"
Liv’s eyes widened, and she paused, staring at the baby as if trying to understand the situation. Her lips parted, but no words came at first. Finally, she let out a deep sigh, looking away from the baby. "But we're too poor, dear," she said softly, her gaze still on the sleeping infant. "How can we protect him with nothing but dirt and leaves? We don’t even have enough for ourselves."
"Liv..." Ulfr interrupted, his voice growing firm. "Our family needs us. The baby has no one else. We must try."
She looked down at the baby, her eyes welling with tears. After a few moments of silence and deep breaths, she met Ulfr’s gaze again. "I just don’t see how we can raise him in such poverty," she whispered, her voice breaking. "There’s nothing here... nothing at all." Her words trailed off as she struggled to find a way forward.
"I will work hard. I promise I’ll make it happen. Just say yes, please..." Ulfr pleaded, his face filled with desperation.
Liv looked at him, torn, her expression saying everything. After a long moment, she slowly nodded and whispered, "…Okay, if you insist... but honey, we don’t know whose child this is. How can we adopt him like this?"
Ulfr met her gaze with silent understanding. Deep down, he knew they couldn’t officially adopt the child. "Well, let’s do one thing for now. We’ll give him shelter. If someone comes looking for their child, we’ll return him. If not, we’ll raise him as our own."
Liv frowned, her worry still clear. "And what if he grows up, finds out the truth, and decides to leave to find his real parents? What will we do then?"
"When that time comes, we’ll tell him the truth," Ulfr said, gently patting her shoulder. "It’ll be his choice to stay or go. We’ll respect whatever decision he makes."
Liv nodded, tears beginning to fill her eyes. She had always dreamed of having a child of her own, but life had been unkind. They had lost their daughter when she was only 7 years old, and since then, they had tried for years to have another, but without success. Now, it seemed as if fate had brought this abandoned baby to them, almost as if it was meant to be.
Ulfr and Liv made the decision to adopt the child without a second thought. They chose to name him Riven Brax. "Riven" symbolized transformation, a journey through hardship, while "Brax" stood for bravery and a strong spirit. Since they had found him by the ghost lake, they felt the name suited him perfectly—a person who had faced great trials yet remained strong. It represented the beauty and strength that could emerge from difficult experiences, just as the baby had emerged from the lake, ready for a new beginning.
