The dragon's warning still echoed in Eric's mind, a chilling pronouncement of a terrifying, ancient evil. As he sat in his study late that night, the weight of the new reality settled upon him. He closed his eyes, reaching out to the spiritual realm.
"Dragon," Eric asked, his voice low, "tell me about this Crimson King. Valerius Malakor. Who was he?"
The Dragon Spirit's ancient voice resonated in his mind, carrying a profound sense of history and dread. "The name strikes a chord from a forgotten era, Eric. The Crimson King, Valerius Malakor… he was not always the evil you now know. Once, he was a man of phenomenal talent, a prodigy whose spiritual might was so vast it captured the attention of an entire Empire. His exploits were legendary, his power growing at a pace that few could comprehend. He was a hero in the eyes of the people, and a respected figure even within the Imperial Court."
"But his ambition was as boundless as his talent. He was not content to merely serve. He craved the throne, believing he was destined to rule. He grew arrogant, viewing the Emperor as a weak, unworthy ruler who stifled the true potential of the realm. He tried to seize the Empire by force, a rebellion that plunged the land into a devastating war. He was eventually defeated, but that was not enough for him. His defeat only fed his malevolence. He began to practice forbidden, evil cultivation techniques, delving into the very heart of corruption to gain power."
"With his newfound dark power, he became even more formidable. He amassed a following not just of willing fanatics, but of those he brainwashed and corrupted, a cult that revered his sheer might and feared his monstrous power. He was so powerful that it took the entire Empire—all the clans, the great sects, and the Imperial legions—united against him to finally bring him down. The Emperor's own son, a hero in his own right, dealt the final, crucial blow, and sealed the fiend away. They thought they had ended him for good."
The Dragon's voice hardened. "These modern cultists, these fools who call themselves the Crimson Veil… they do not even know what they have truly released. They believe they are serving a righteous cause, but they are nothing more than pawns, dancing on the precipice of an ancient evil they cannot comprehend. Valerius Malakor, the Crimson King, is not just a powerful man; he is a force of corruption and destruction incarnate. His hatred for the Imperial line runs deep. He will not rest until he has taken what he believes is his. You must train hard, Eric. You will face a foe more powerful and cunning than any you have ever known."
The Dragon's warning echoed in Eric's mind, leaving him with a renewed sense of purpose. He spent the rest of the night in deep meditation, channeling the spiritual energy and refining his cultivation. The next morning, he made a decision. He would not wait for the cult to strike again. He would take the fight to them, starting with their territory—the Whispering Woods.
As he was preparing to leave, Lady Lysandra approached him, her face a mask of resolute determination. "Lord Eric, I have been thinking. My father's actions were born of greed, yes, but also of a desire to make our lands prosperous. He chose a dark path, but he believed he was doing what was necessary. I... I want to be able to protect this domain myself. I want to be strong enough to stand by your side. Please, would you train me?"
Eric looked at her, seeing not just a frightened girl, but a young woman with a fierce desire to grow. He smiled faintly. "It won't be easy, Lysandra. The training will be grueling, and I won't hold back. You will be pushed to your limits."
"I am ready," she said, her eyes unwavering. "I am ready for anything."
"Good," Eric replied, his smile widening. "Because we are going to the Whispering Woods. We will begin your training there."
Lysandra's eyes widened in shock. "The forest? Eric, are you serious? The forest is incredibly dangerous! The sheer volume of low-ranked monsters, not to mention the B, C, and A ranks that are a constant threat... we just fought our way out of there!"
"We will be fine," Eric assured her, a confident aura radiating from him. He then turned to Kord, Anya, and Lysa. "You three will remain here with the servants. Secure the manor and keep an eye on things. Lysandra and I will go on our own. It's time for her to face a true test."
The team, though hesitant, bowed to his command.
The Whispering Woods lived up to its reputation. As soon as Eric and Lysandra entered, the low, unsettling whispers of the forest gave way to a sudden, guttural chorus of growls and snarls. From the thick undergrowth, F-rank and E-rank monsters, corrupted by the lingering malevolent Qi, swarmed them, their glowing red eyes fixed on their prey.
Lysandra instinctively tensed, her hand going to her sword. But before she could even draw it, Eric was a blur of motion. His Wyvern-blade, a silent flash of light, moved with breathtaking speed. In a matter of seconds, he had cut down a dozen of the swarming creatures, their lifeless bodies collapsing to the ground with a soft thud. He didn't even seem to be breathing hard.
Lysandra stared, her jaw slack with shock. The monsters that she had so feared, that had taken the full power of Eric's team to defeat just a day ago, had been dealt with in the blink of an eye by Eric alone.
"Your turn," Eric said, his voice calm, as more of the monsters began to approach. "These are yours. Focus on your technique, not on their numbers. Don't waste your energy on killing blows; aim to incapacitate. I'll handle anything that gets past you."
Lysandra, snapping out of her daze, nodded, and drew her sword. Her movements, though not as swift as Eric's, were graceful and precise. She was a skilled fighter, her years of training clearly evident. She took on the swarming F and E ranks with surprising efficiency, her spiritual energy flaring as she deflected their attacks and delivered powerful, well-placed strikes. Eric, standing a few feet behind her, watched with a critical eye, only intervening when a particularly powerful monster got too close, taking it down with a single, devastating strike.
After the initial wave of monsters was dealt with, the ground littered with their corpses, Eric turned to Lysandra. Her face was flushed with exertion, but her eyes were alight with the thrill of battle. She was breathing hard, but a look of genuine pride was on her face.
"Not bad," Eric said, offering a rare, genuine smile. "You handled them well."
"I... I did it," Lysandra said, a sense of awe in her voice. "I took them on. I didn't even notice them until you told me."
"That's because I took care of the real threats," Eric said with a slight chuckle. He then turned, a serious look on his face. He pulled out a small, palm-sized spiritual stone from his pocket and threw it into the air. The stone glowed for a moment before a spiritual beacon shot upwards, its energy dispersing a moment later.
"That's the signal," he said. "My servants will come and collect the remains of the beasts. We will use them to help the villages. Their hides, their cores... all of it. They won't go to waste. Now," he looked at Lysandra, his eyes filled with a burning intensity. "The real training begins."