For two centuries, the land of Ardan had been swallowed by darkness. Once, it was a world ruled by humans — rivals warring endlessly, their battles staining the soil with blood. But those endless wars had torn more than just flesh and bone — they had shattered the very fabric of reality, summoning otherworldly entities and laws.
From the rifts between worlds, horrors spilled forth — monsters born of nightmare and shadow. The overseers of the realms, seeing the carnage and bloodshed, decided to balance the forces by allowing mana to seep into the world of Ardan. This force reshaped life and death itself.
The residents of Ardan named the event the Great Reckoning. It was a reckoning not just of power, but of survival. Those who could not adapt to mana's touch perished, their bodies and souls consumed by the new world's harsh demands. Those who survived were changed — gifted, cursed, or both — with abilities beyond imagination.
Among them, those who decided to harness this power further through evolving their nexus were called Seekers. There were only six stages known to have been reached by humans in the span of two centuries — the first being a Genesis Seeker, the final one a near-divine Immortal Seeker.
Nonetheless, it was clear that Ivel was far from that.
The boat Ivel was on drifted out to sea, its course set straight toward the horizon.
"Did you hear that storm last night?" a nearby watchman said, yawning.
"Damn right. My kids barged in."
The man chuckled.
"They've always been afraid of lightning."
"Indeed." He paused, taking a sip of water. "Did you hear the news?"
The other raised a curious eyebrow.
"What news?"
The watchman's face turned solemn.
"It happened a week ago. Reports say that Terva was overrun by monsters — the country is no more. They've declared it lost."
The other man jumped slightly.
"By the gods. A country gone — in the span of a week." He paused and shivered. "The rumors must have been true."
The first watchman nodded.
"Yes. It seems that monster was there after all."
Both men stood in silence, looking out at the vast ocean before them with the thought lingering in the back of their mind. Though it was quickly interrupted...
"I think I see something." The man's eyes sharpened, almost cat-like, as he squinted toward the water.
"It's a boat."
"Strange. None usually take this route this time of year."
They waited as the boat drew closer, preparing for it to steer toward the port.
It didn't.
"I don't see anyone steering that boat," the man said, a hint of fear creeping into his voice.
"I don't think I heard you right." The other laughed. "You really need to work on your jokes."
"I'm serious — there is no one on that ship!"
The older man's expression shifted as the severity of the situation hit him.
"Quick — call Seeker Leom!" he shouted.
The watchman turned and ran toward the town behind them.
After some time the boat arrived, crashing into the shore and leaving a trail of wreckage along the sand.
The old watchman jumped back. He steadied himself, built up his courage, and carefully walked toward the boat.
"Waaaa... waaaa."
"What in the gods—" He stopped as the sound of crying reached him from inside the vessel.
"Step back from the boat."
A stern voice came from behind him. The watchman turned to find a man with bluish hair, silver armor of intricate craftsmanship, and features that commanded attention even in a crisis.
"Ah, Seeker — thank the gods you are here." The watchman exhaled with relief.
The Seeker walked closer.
"Your companion told me the boat was stranded."
"Well, we may have been wrong. Just now I heard crying coming from the vessel."
The Seeker's eyes went wide.
"I'll take a look."
He drew his sword, ready for any abominations that might still be aboard, and effortlessly leapt onto the vessel, landing on the hull.
Once there, Leom could not find the words for what he saw.
He dropped his sword onto the hull, stained with dried blood.
He walked toward Afriel's corpse. What he found was a father holding his newborn child — lifeless eyes that carried, even now, a hint of satisfaction.
"Waaaa... waaaa."
The baby cried out again, sensing another presence nearby.
Leom gently closed Afriel's eyes and lifted the newborn with practiced ease. He looked at the letters written in blood across the boy's chest.
"Ivel."
He paused for a moment.
"Do not worry, Ivel. You are safe now."
The baby seemed to settle, relaxing into the warmth of the man's arms.
Leom carried the boy and his father to the shore. Later he found the mother among the other soldiers' corpses or what he could gather of them. He noticed a necklace around Afriel's neck, carefully removed it, and placed it in his pocket.
"I'll make sure your son is protected," he said quietly, "for as long as he lives."
His face was filled with sympathy for the man laid before him.
The elderly watchman began a chant for the corpses on the shore, his voice low and steady.
"Let us honor these brave men and women who crossed the terrifying Aktrian Ocean. In the Aktrian Ocean there is an old folk's tale — that those who die at sea never truly die. Their souls are bound to the water, cursed to drift until they find their way home. Let us pray that these brave souls find their way home."
The three of them held the silence that followed.
Meldi.