Lilith Thoms and Lily Thoms.
It was the first time Aron felt something warm something comforting. The old man stood by the doorway, silent, observing.
Lily walked toward him, a soft smile lighting up her face.
"What's your name?"
"Aron," he replied.
"My name is Lily," she said warmly, "and this is my brother Lilith."
Lilith was a serious guy. An obnoxious personality, cold, blunt but still, somehow, loyal and protective.
The old man gave a small nod.
"Hey, Lilith, you guys talk. I need to buy some vegetables... and also repair the blade."
He quietly left the room, letting the kids have their chat—and maybe a little fun.
Lilith crossed his arms and glanced at Aron.
"Let's go out," he said.
Aron replied nervously, "Sure."
They stepped outside the house, walking quietly through the dusty path until they reached an open ground. The wind was soft, and the sky had a peaceful blue hue.
Lilith turned and looked at him.
"Do you know how to fight?"
Aron hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes… but not much."
"Good. Pick a wooden sword," Lilith said in a heavy tone.
Both were around thirteen years of age. Now they stood in the center of the training ground. Lily watched from afar, sitting on a rock with her arms folded.
"The rule is simple," Lilith said. "Whoever falls, and gets a blade placed at his neck loses."
Aron nodded again. "Alright."
"Then let the duel begin."
Their eyes locked.
Neither moved.
But from afar, Hans watched quietly behind a tree.
"Huh… is he that kid?" he muttered.
Lilith struck first—fast and sharp. Their wooden swords clashed, the echo sharp in the open air. Lilith pushed forward aggressively, forcing Aron back step by step. Aron blocked as best he could, but it was costing him energy. His stance wavered.
Then Aron slipped just a moment of weakness.
Lilith took it. A sharp kick to the chest knocked Aron flat onto the ground. He gasped, one hand on the dirt for support, the other clutching his ribs.
But then… something stirred.
A fire, a spirit, something primal.
He slowly stood up, looked at the sky the clouds drifting gently. The wind brushed his hair. A strange peace, even within the pain.
Lilith smirked, amused.
But Aron charged.
The speed was different now like lightning, like a gust that couldn't be tracked.
Lilith stepped forward to counter, swinging with power.
But Aron ducked low too low.
THUMP.
A punch straight to Lilith's gut. He gasped and stumbled back, crashing hard into the ground.
He lay there, eyes wide in shock, not believing what had just happened.
And then he saw it.
The wooden sword.
Resting gently on his neck.
Aron had won.
Lilith looked up, then closed his eyes and muttered, "I admit defeat."
From the edge of the ground, Hans stepped forward clapping.
"Wow… kid, you're a good swordsman."
The duel was over. The battleground was a mess of footprints and crushed leaves. But even though it was a friendly match, the earth… the air… everything felt different.
Aron stood there. He thought
It has returned to me.
That night, the old man opened the forge. He lit the burner, placed coals into the flames, and pulled out the sword. But something was wrong.
The blade refused to heat.
He hammered it, again and again. Sweat rolled down his face. His eyes raged with frustration.
"Damn it!" he shouted. "What's up with this sword?!"
Then he saw it.
A word, etched faintly into the steel.
A large N Letter Engraved Into the handle of the sword.
Since that day, he never touched the blade again.
Elsewhere...
A shadow crept forward, shifting, twisting… until it shaped itself into a man.
Lyoth.
He walked with rage in his breath and fury in his bones. He had just slaughtered a spirit tiger. Blood still stained his cloak.
He entered the black throne room and sat down. The hall fell silent.
Then another shadow moved.
From the great gates, through the endless dark corridor, a figure emerged. Each step rang with the sound of chains, with the essence of death itself.
The Black Reaper had arrived.
He finally stood before Lyoth's throne.
Lyoth's voice echoed across the cold stone walls:
"You again… let him slip away. How pathetic."
The Reaper bowed slightly.
"I didn't. They used… Binding Light."
Lyoth's brows furrowed.
"Binding Light, you say? Then indeed… the spirit animal had the Light Stone."
The Reaper nodded.
"But that's not important for us. We want the Black Sword. The Black Stone."
A heavy silence followed. Then a quake.
A deep rumble shook the hall. Even the soldiers stationed outside felt a chill.
Lyoth's tone turned deadly.
"Not important? That stone can forge Light Swords… giving humans the upper hand. And the Black Sword"
He paused.
"It's impossible to get."
He stood slowly, his cloak dragging like a curtain of night.
"That leaves us with one final choice. I thought we could find it ourselves but now…"
He looked the Reaper dead in the eye.
"…We need help finding the other Black Stone."
His voice dropped.
"And the stone… is not regular. That means…"
He closed his fist.
"…someone from the Zack bloodline has it."
He turned and said to Reaper,
"Reaper. Take the army. Burn Zack Castle. Destroy the entire city. And…"
He raised his hand.A black Shadow emerged ,
"…wake him up."
His voice boomed, rattling the world.
The earth quaked. Deep within the ground, something shifted.
Eyes opened.The air grew stronger and thicker.
A monstrous presence awakened.
Bats thousands of them fled the skies, circling above the mountains. The clouds turned black. Rain fell heavy.
A great, hulking shadow rose from the earth. Bigger than the Black Reaper. Terrifying.
The mountains began to crumble. The rivers burst their banks. Thunder clapped.
He kneeled before Lyoth.
Lyoth stepped down from his throne, smiling wickedly.
"My beautiful brother…"
He paused.
"…Golem."
And then, the command echoed:
"Now I hereby command you—destroy. And bring me the Black Stone."