The outskirts of Leaf Dukedom had grown deathly silent. The wind carried no sound, no birds dared sing—only the suffocating pulse of raw chaos emanated from the ancient forestlands. At the center of it, deep within a cracked formation of forgotten runes, Raphael stood still, eyes sharp.
"This place reeks of ancient malice," he muttered.
Sion approached slowly, his body already reacting to the oppressive magic in the air. It wasn't just darkness—it was pure chaos. He stopped a few paces away from the runes, his instincts screaming.
"It's far worse than I imagined," Sion said.
Raphael turned to him. "This is not ordinary black magic. This… is the shadow of the fallen. You must not fight it—not yet. You're strong, Sion, but not invincible."
Sion looked at the cursed land, conflicted. He hated leaving threats unchallenged.
"You must seal this place," Raphael pressed. "Use your divine aura and every ounce of your mana. I will guard it from time to time, but no one—not even the curious—must approach. If this corruption leaks, it'll consume everything in its path."
Taking a deep breath, Sion began chanting. Light erupted around him. His divine crest flared on his palm, and golden aura surged across the landscape like a storm. The darkness fought back—screaming, clawing at his spirit.
He gritted his teeth and pushed harder.
80% of his raw mana and divine power poured into the formation. The energy clash shook the forest, uprooting trees and ripping into the skies. Blood dripped from his nose, and his hands trembled from the sheer pressure—but he did not yield.
Finally, a massive, blinding dome of light locked down the corrupted zone—a holy barrier infused with divine law.
Sion dropped to one knee, panting. Exhaustion consumed him.
"This is your first real taste," Raphael said quietly. "The world you've entered... is not the one you once knew. These enemies are not human. They are born of ancient chaos. Be prepared."
Sion nodded weakly. "I will be."
He returned to the Leaf Duke's palace, collapsing into rest. For the first time, he felt the edges of his own limits.
The next morning, the skies were still heavy when an envoy from Sidom arrived.
Prince Lucien—the Elven heir to the Sidom throne—entered the estate with poise. Clad in a silver mantle with the green emblem of the Sidom Kingdom, he bowed respectfully to Sion before speaking with urgency.
"The world is watching, Sion," Lucien said. "With the fall of the Leaf Kingdom, you've sent a message... but others have started to move as well."
"Who?" Sion asked.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "The Spade Kingdom is mobilizing. Their armies are far greater than Leaf ever was—and they harbor fanatics of dark doctrine. And then there's the Bethel Empire... they've begun secret alliances, strengthening their borders."
He paused, then added, "Compared to them, Leaf was just a puppet kingdom. The true storm is just beginning."
Sion stood from his seat, the tension in his jaw rising. "Then we don't wait. We strike first—when the time is right."
Lucien nodded. "You'll have Sidom's cooperation. But you must continue uniting these lands—under strength and vision."
Sion gave a faint smirk. "Then let's prepare. The beasts in the shadows will learn the name Sion Ragnar."