Back to the time when Vetaal and everyone else were free.
Somewhere far away from the cursed island, beyond the endless sea.
On the vast human continent, within the territory of the Valmoria Kingdom.
The world remained unaware. Unaware of what had just been released. Unaware of what had just changed.
Deep within a dense jungle, where towering trees blocked most of the fading evening light and only scattered rays filtered through the thick canopy, a young man trained alone.
The air was humid. The ground was uneven.
And the silence of the forest was broken only by the sound of a blade cutting through the air.
Slash.
Slash.
Slash.
His movements were smooth. They were controlled, precise.
Each swing of his sword flowed into the next like water, forming a continuous sequence of elegant strikes that showed both discipline and countless hours of training.
Sweat dripped down from his forehead, tracing a line along his sharp jaw before falling to the ground.
