The air was heavy with danger, and the mountains around them echoed with endless footsteps. Before John and Robert stood more than ten masked men, their faces hidden behind black veils, each gripping a sword with solemn menace—threat obvious in every movement.
John—the tall one with black hair and glasses reflecting the faint light—glanced at Robert beside him. Robert was nearly the same height, his hair medium-length, his black suit almost blending into the darkness itself.
John's voice faltered, then burst out in anger.
"Damn it… run!"
They didn't wait another second. Both lunged forward, narrowly avoiding the gleaming blades slicing through the air. The masked men pursued relentlessly as they sprinted across the rugged terrain—rocks rolling beneath their feet, leaping between towering stones—every second a challenge between life and death.
The wind howled around them. Shouts echoed between the mountains. With every step, hearts pounded violently, yet there was no choice but to flee—flee before the swords caught them.
John turned briefly to Robert, his shadowed eyes behind the glasses gleaming with determination.
"Don't stop… there's no going back!"
The mountains bore witness to the chase, rocks and shadows hiding among themselves as danger followed without pause.
Robert ran beside John, his eyes wide with fear and excitement at once. He clenched his fist and shouted,
"Get ready!"
John—the tall, black-haired one with glasses—began to cry. Tears streamed down his face as he shouted in a broken voice,
"Damn it… who are these people now? Damn it, brother… I wish Father had never had you!"
Robert smiled while breathing hard, replying carelessly,
"Screw you—you're the older one. Endure it a little!"
Suddenly—boom!
A surge of energy exploded. A brilliant blue beam burst from Robert's body, and two massive blue wings grew from his back. He lunged toward John, grabbed him, and together they shot into the sky. The wind whistled around them as they fled from the ground.
John raised his hand and shouted in relief,
"We finally escaped!"
But then—boom!
A massive fireball hurtled toward them at terrifying speed. Robert barely dodged it, his heart pounding with every millimeter it missed them by. He glanced back to see the ten masked men flying after them, wings gleaming in the light.
"Damn it… they're mages!" John shouted in shock.
This time, Robert grabbed John by the shoulder instead of the hand. John gripped back tightly, and suddenly bright green orbs of energy launched from his hand toward the masked men—but they evaded the attacks with expert precision.
John clung on and shouted,
"Damn it… their level is way too high! Damn you, Robert… who did you mess with this time?!"
The assault continued. Energy spheres clashed in the sky, winds howled, masked mages counterattacked—every moment so tense it felt like the air itself might tear apart.
John looked down, his face filled with dread.
"Swordsmen… running beneath us… and mages flying with us! If we land—or keep flying without a plan—we'll die!"
Robert nodded, his voice firm.
"Brother, there's no choice left but to fight. We won't be able to escape."
John took a deep breath—then suddenly surged forward, slipping from Robert's grip. He began dodging the mages' attacks with astonishing skill, leaping and spinning between energy blasts. The masked men's eyes tracked his frantic movements without pause.
Suddenly, his sigil appeared, glowing with intense green light. From it emerged a katana, descending like a missile toward the ground, instantly cleaving one of the swordsmen in two. In a blur of inhuman speed, John continued, striking down the remaining swordsmen one by one before they could be crushed beneath the feet of the flying mages.
Above, Robert turned toward the mages. His blue wings blazed fiercely, his hand igniting with black, claw-like energy. Without hesitation, he charged. The wind screamed around him, every tear in the air seeming to split the sky itself under the immense force he carried.
Dawn slowly crept between the mountain peaks, pale light washing over the remnants of a night that ended only in blood and death.
John and Robert leaned against one another atop a shattered rock. Their breaths were ragged, their black suits torn and soaked with blood and wounds. The silence was heavy… but honest.
Robert broke it with a short laugh, forced out despite the pain, pressing a bleeding shoulder.
"You know, John… even without a Path, you use runes unnaturally well."
John didn't reply immediately. He lowered his head slightly and sighed deeply, as if the air itself weighed on his chest. Then he said in a tired, quiet voice,
"Because I don't have the luxury of making mistakes."
He raised his eyes toward the horizon where daylight was being born.
"The world was never fair in how it distributed power… but it has always been strict about its laws."
Robert tilted his head, listening.
"In this era, the strong aren't born by chance, and power isn't granted to those who ask for it recklessly… but to those who choose their Path—and pay the full price." He paused. "That's what they call the Legendary Paths… the system upon which wars, thrones, and the collapse of empires are built."
John clenched his fist, as if the name itself carried weight.
"Between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, some humans hear the call of a Path. Not a voice… but a sensation, as if your soul suddenly lays itself bare." He smiled faintly, bitterly. "In that moment, you know your soul belongs to only one thing… blood, shadow, mind, body, elements… or the unknown."
Robert asked quietly,
"And what if someone ignores the call?"
"They live weak forever," John replied without hesitation. "And anyone who tries to choose more than one Path… collapses."
He turned to him seriously.
"A Path isn't a skill—it's a way of existence. The soul cannot bear more than one road."
Then, more softly,
"Everyone who tried to walk two Paths… lost their mind, twisted their body, or died in ways beyond description."
He fell silent, then murmured as if quoting an ancient law:
"Choose your power… or your end will be chosen for you."
Robert closed his eyes briefly as John continued.
"The Path of Blood… power born of sacrifice. The Path of Shadow… killing without confrontation. The Path of Mind… the most dangerous—one decision can end a war, but the body is fragile. The Path of Body… breaking limits by breaking the self. The Path of Elements… only one element—choose more, and you burn from the inside."
He paused before adding,
"As for the Path of the Unknown… no one truly understands it. Even the books disagree. It may grant incomprehensible power… or complete madness."
He raised his trembling hand slightly.
"And every Walker passes through five stages… Awakened, Walker, Adept, Transcendent… and finally, Legendary."
He smiled bitterly.
"And the Legendary… are no longer fully human."
Robert opened his eyes.
"So all this power… has a price."
John nodded.
"Always."
"Every ability is built on three pillars: intent—why it exists; cost—what you lose when using it; and limit—when it fails."
He finished in a low voice, as if warning himself before anyone else:
"The harsher the cost… the more dangerous the power."
Silence returned. Dawn was complete. But the words lingered in the air—heavy… like merciless laws.
A brief quiet settled between them, broken only by the soft wind passing through bloodstained rocks.
Robert turned to John, stared at him for a long moment, then said calmly, unusually so,
"John… you are of the Path of the Unknown."
John wasn't surprised. He simply closed his eyes for a moment.
"Even now," Robert continued, "you don't understand your power."
John smiled faintly, joyless.
"And that is the true curse… not knowing how to walk."
Robert rose slowly, groaning, then extended a hand to help John up.
"We have to return to the family."
John looked at him.
"What happened tonight isn't normal. We were attacked by assassins… at least Walker rank." He took a deep breath. "And you—you're a Walker yourself, yet you struggled."
Robert gave a short laugh, half sarcasm, half worry.
"Looks like the world decided to test us early."
John looked at him firmly.
"Let's go. We need to ask Father… what's really happening."
They exchanged a silent look, then turned together, walking slowly among the rocks—two brothers exhausted by battle, but unbroken.
And with the first path leading downward… the journey home began.
The brothers—John and Robert.
The sun rose slowly as they walked with heavy steps, their black suits ruined, blood staining their clothes and bodies.
John looked at Robert, panting, and said angrily with a tired, bitter smile,
"Damn it… the suit is ruined!"
Robert chuckled softly, wincing in pain.
"Finally… we're back on the main road."
He pulled out his damaged phone, fingers trembling as he caught a weak signal. After a moment, the call connected to their loyal maid, Beatrix.
"Beatrix… we're on Bridge Road, opposite the forest. Hurry… we're bleeding!"
Minutes later, a black car stopped before them. A young female driver stepped out, wearing an elegant servant's uniform, sharp eyes instantly assessing the situation.
"My lords… what happened here?" she asked sharply, taking in the blood and torn clothes.
John raised his hand and shouted,
"Silence… drive us home immediately!"
The car sped along the winding road, mountains fading behind them, wind slapping their faces. Moments later, a massive estate appeared, the gate bearing the name House Runt—towering stone buildings and meticulously kept gardens reflecting the family's authority.
The gates opened swiftly. Inside, they were met by their father, Barathium, his white hair gleaming in the light, the wrinkles of time etched deeply into the face of a man in his late seventies.
He glared at them with overwhelming fury.
"Who did this?"
They answered together, voices filled with fear and exhaustion.
"We don't know…"
Barathium's voice rose, heavy and imposing.
"Is this because of the problem with the Pharaoh family?"
John trembled, eyes widening.
"What… problem with them? What happened while we were gone?"
Barathium replied with sorrow mixed with anger.
"Your older brother, Jimmy, was engaged to a daughter of the Ahmes family. A serious dispute broke out—because he refused to live in the Pharaoh family's household."
John shouted in disbelief,
"The Pharaoh family? Aren't they one of the five strongest families in the world? Why? How… when we're only a weak third-rate family? Is that why they decided to wipe us out?!"
At that moment, a tall man entered the hall—dark black hair, deep black eyes, a thick beard that drew attention. It was Jimmy, the eldest brother, the same height as John and Robert, walking with confidence despite the tension.
He looked at them calmly, firmly.
"No… it's not the Pharaoh family. They wouldn't do this. These assassins are from the ruling family."
John shouted in shock,
"What?!"
Jimmy continued, his voice resolute, black eyes burning with controlled rage.
"They want to eliminate weaker families—and weaken any potential opposition."
John asked, trying to understand,
"How do you know?"
Jimmy smiled sharply.
"My fiancée told me. It's extremely classified information—known only to the heads of major families. That's why the Pharaoh family asked me to abandon my name… to ensure safety."
The hall fell silent. Everyone was tense, the brothers' bloodstained clothes reflecting the danger they had just survived. Their spirits eased slightly, but their minds boiled with questions: who was truly behind the attack—and what was the real price of power in a world like this?
Robert placed a hand on John's shoulder and said quietly,
"Brother… the road ahead is still long."
John looked at his eldest brother, Jimmy, his eyes shining with resolve.
"We won't let them stop us. No one will threaten House Runt ever again."
Above them, the sky filled with the light of sunset. But inside, the true flames—family, rage, and danger—burned fiercely, promising a night far longer and more violent than anything they had faced so far.