Morning arrived slowly over Marsh Town, the pale golden light of the three moons fading as the sun climbed above the distant hills of Brightshore, thin rays slipping through the wooden shutters of a small room where Aragon sat awake on his narrow bed, his eyes open long before the town had fully stirred.
Sleep had come to him only briefly, and even that sleep had not been peaceful.
The dream remained in his mind with unsettling clarity.
A dark presence, neither enemy nor ally, speaking in a calm voice that seemed older than the world itself.
"The world abandoned you… but power has not "
Aragon lowered his gaze toward his hands resting on his knees, silent, thoughtful, the memory of that voice echoing in the quiet of the room. For a long moment he did nothing, simply breathing slowly while the faint sounds of the waking town drifted in from outside.
Carts rolling over stone roads. Merchants calling to one another.
The distant clanging of a blacksmith's hammer. Marsh Town was waking, Yet Aragon remained still.
Rivergate Kingdom had once called him a hero, summoned him with grand ceremonies and promises of glory, but that same kingdom had thrown him away without hesitation when his rank appeared before them,
F-Rank...
The lowest....
A useless hero...
His lips tightened slightly at the memory, not in anger but in quiet acceptance. He had already understood something important since that day.
Trust was a luxury he could no longer afford.
Not in kings...
Not in nobles. ….
Not even in those who claimed to stand beside him...
Slowly he stood from the bed, pulling on his dark cloak as he moved toward the window and pushed the shutters open.
Morning light filled the room. Below, Marsh Town stretched along the gentle slope of land near Brightshore's western border, a modest settlement compared to the grand capitals of the kingdoms, yet lively in its own way. Stone roads curved between rows of wooden houses and small stone buildings, market stalls already being arranged by merchants while travelers guided loaded wagons through the town gates.
Adventurers were common here.
So were traders. Being near the border made Marsh a crossing point between kingdoms, a place where rumors, goods, and people moved constantly. Aragon watched quietly. Brightshore soldiers patrolled the main road, their armor gleaming in shades of blue and silver , the sun crest of their kingdom engraved upon their shields in golden colour. Their presence kept the town orderly, though everyone knew monsters roamed the nearby forests and hills beyond the walls.
For adventurers, danger meant opportunity.
For Aragon, however, today meant something else. The dream,his gaze narrowed slightly. The voice had not sounded like an illusion, nor like the chaotic visions produced by magic or exhaustion, it had felt deliberate, purposeful, as if something unseen had been guiding him.
Guiding him somewhere , he closed the window again. Whatever that presence was, he had no intention of telling anyone about it. Not the adventurers, not the guild, and certainly not the kingdom that had only recently given him refuge.
Aragon had already learned what happened when others controlled your fate. This time, he would walk his own path. Without another word, he stepped out into the morning streets of Marsh.
Far away in the capital of Brightshore, Rising Sun, the atmosphere was far less peaceful.
Within a stone chamber of the royal administrative hall, several figures stood around a large wooden table covered with documents and reports, the banners of Brightshore hanging from the high walls behind them.
Blue cloth marked with the golden sun emblem.
A middle aged general rested both hands on the table while an intelligence officer read aloud from a report.
"One of the survivors from the Ravenholt incident has been confirmed as an Ashrai male."
The officer turned the page.
"Name, Aragon ,Status… summoned hero of Rivergate Kingdom."
Silence settled briefly in the room.
A noble standing nearby frowned slightly.
"A summoned hero?"
The officer nodded.
"Yes, my lord."
Another report was pushed across the table.
"Rivergate summoned multiple heroes recently, however records indicate that this individual was banished shortly after the summoning ritual"
The general's brow furrowed
"Banished… why?"
The officer hesitated before answering
"His rank "
He turned the document so the others could see
"F-Rank"
A quiet murmur passed through the chamber.In Brightshore, rank determined everything. Power, authority, social standing.
Even the lowest soldier ranked above a commoner if his combat rank was higher.
A summoned hero possessing an F-Rank was something almost unheard of. One noble folded his arms thoughtfully,
"Rivergate discarded him that quickly?"
"Apparently"
The general leaned back slightly, considering the information carefully.
"A summoned hero, even a weak one, is still a summoned hero."
He tapped the table once.
"The king's order remains unchanged."
"Observe him."
The intelligence officer nodded.
"Yes, General."
Far away in Marsh Town, Aragon continued walking, completely unaware that the capital had begun quietly watching him.
The streets of Marsh were fully alive now.
Merchants arranged goods across colorful stalls, fabrics and fruits displayed beside racks of monster materials gathered by adventurers returning from nearby hunts. The smell of cooked meat drifted from a small food stall where travelers gathered for breakfast while blacksmiths worked tirelessly in open workshops, sparks flying as blades and armor were repaired.
At the center of town stood the Adventurer Guild branch,Shore's Adventure Guild, a sturdy stone building with a bronze emblem above the entrance. Adventurers frequently passed through its doors, some leaving for missions, others returning with trophies from the wild lands beyond Brightshore's borders.
Aragon walked past it without stopping.
The guild held no interest for him today.
Instead, he moved deeper into the older part of town where the streets grew narrower and quieter, the lively market sounds fading behind him.
This area of Marsh was rarely visited.
Here, among aging stone buildings and creeping vines, stood an old structure that most townsfolk barely noticed anymore.
A small temple…..
Its worn stone walls were marked with faint carvings of Brightshore's sun symbol, though the designs had faded over the years. Moss clung to the edges of the steps, and only a few candles flickered inside the entrance where occasional travelers stopped to offer prayers.
Aragon stepped inside.
The air was cool and still, filled with the quiet scent of wax and stone.
A statue of the sun goddess stood at the far end of the chamber, watching over the empty hall.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then Aragon felt it a faint sensation, subtle but unmistakable.
A pull, his eyes moved slowly across the floor until they settled upon a section of stone near the center of the room.
It looked ordinary, yet something about it felt… wrong. He crouched down, brushing dust from the surface until thin lines appeared beneath the dirt, faint runes carved so delicately that they were nearly invisible.
Ancient runes carefully he pressed against the stone.
At first it refused to move, but after shifting his weight slightly the slab gave way with a quiet grinding sound, revealing a dark opening beneath the floor.
Cold air rose from the hidden passage.
A staircase descended into shadow
Aragon stared at it silently,
No guards...
No adventurers…..
No signs that anyone had discovered this place before...
Which meant only one thing, the mysterious voice had been telling the truth.
His gaze darkened slightly as he stepped closer to the edge of the opening.
"So this is the place."
The darkness below waited silently.
Far beneath Marsh Town, something ancient slept within the forgotten ruins of a dungeon no one in the world remembered anymore.
And without hesitation, Aragon placed his foot on the first step and began descending into the shadows….!