The blue moss covered the grotto in an ethereal, pulsing light that made the shadows dance like living things. Chris stood frozen, his hand inches from the translucent hilt. The silence here was different from the forest above; it wasn't the silence of a predator waiting to strike, but the silence of a tomb holding its breath.
"What is this, Fen?" Chris whispered, his voice echoing off the crystalline walls.
Fen didn't answer with a bark. He paced toward a dark corner of the grotto, sniffing at a heap of tattered cloth and white calcium. Chris followed the light of his palm, and his heart gave a sympathetic thud.
Propped against a stalagmite was a skeleton.
The remains were draped in the remnants of high-quality leather armor, now brittle and grey with age. A rusted compass hung from a chain around the neck, and gripped tightly in the skeletal fingers was a thick, leather-bound volume.
Chris knelt, his movements respectful. This man hadn't died in a fight—there were no broken bones or marks of violence. He looked like he had simply sat down to rest and never got up.
"An explorer," Chris murmured.
He gently pried the book from the bone-dry grip. The leather groaned, but the parchment inside was remarkably preserved, likely protected by the same strange mana that saturated the cave. He blew off a layer of dust and began to read.
The Map of a Dangerous World
As Chris flipped through the pages, his eyes widened. The book wasn't just a diary; it was a comprehensive guide to the world he had been thrust into.
"The Continent of Xener," Chris read aloud, tracing a map drawn with exquisite detail.
Xener was a vast land divided into three great empires and dozens of city-states. But his eyes zeroed in on a sprawling green blotch on the map—the very place he stood.
The Whispering Void Forest.
Classification: Disaster Class.
"Disaster Class?" Chris felt a cold sweat prickle his neck.
The journal's entries grew frantic in this section. 'Let the heavens have mercy on any soul lost within the Whispering Void. It is a realm of distorted mana and ancient apex predators. Even S-Class adventurers, the pinnacle of human strength, dare not tread past the outer rim without a full party of mages and vanguards. To enter the heart is to seek an audience with Death himself.'
Chris looked at Fen. The "big bear" and the "golden bird" he had seen on his first day weren't just animals; they were likely Disaster-class entities. He had been living, hunting, and training in a place that the strongest people in this world considered a suicide zone.
"I guess ignorance really is bliss," he muttered, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
He turned more pages, looking for information on power systems. He found that the mages of Xener indeed used the Circle System he had mimicked from his novels. However, the book mentioned that reaching the 5th Circle usually took a talented mage forty years of study. Chris had done it in six months.
But then he found something new.
Ether.
'While mages weave the mana of the world, warriors must forge the mana within. This internal condensation is known as Ether. It is the fuel of the Sword-Kings, allowing a blade to sever the very fabric of reality. However, the human vessel is too fragile to contain Ether in its youth. Even the most prodigious geniuses cannot awaken their Ether core before the age of sixteen, as the body must be fully matured to withstand the internal pressure.'
Chris looked at his own hands—the hands of a boy who looked ten but was originally six. He had been trying to use 'Void Intent' with raw mana, but according to this, he was missing the actual fuel intended for swordsmen.
"Sixteen?" Chris scoffed. "I don't have ten years to wait. If I can cheat the Circle system, I can cheat this too."
He read further. The nearest signs of civilization were far to the north—a border city known as Salvalon. It was described as a rough, bustling hub for hunters and those brave enough to trade in materials harvested from the forest's edge.
The Call of the Crystal
A low, insistent whine pulled Chris away from the journal.Fen was standing by the white stone pedestal, his tail swishing with an agitated energy. He nudged Chris's hip, pushing him toward the embedded hilt. When Chris hesitated, Fen growled—not a threat, but an encouragement, a challenge.
"You really want me to take this, don't you?"
Chris looked at the sword. Up close, it was breathtaking. The blade wasn't made of metal; it was a shard of pure, compressed mana crystal, so clear it was almost invisible. The hilt was wrapped in a material that felt like dragon-scale—warm to the touch and pulsed in sync with his own heartbeat.
He remembered the explorer's book. There was no mention of a sword in a stone in this grotto. This was something hidden deeper, something the world had forgotten.
Chris reached out.
As soon as his fingers closed around the hilt, the five mana circles around his heart went berserk. They began to spin so fast they created a vacuum, pulling every scrap of ambient mana in the grotto toward him.
"Nngh!"
He felt a massive resistance. The sword wasn't just stuck in stone; it was anchored by a weight of pure authority. It felt like trying to lift a mountain with a single hand.
You want a master? Chris thought, his eyes flashing with a sudden, fierce light. I've survived the Disaster Class forest as a toddler. I've rewritten the laws of magic in six months. I am the Void that doesn't belong here!
He didn't just pull with his muscles. He ignited his five circles, funnelling every drop of his power into his arm. But he didn't stop there. He took the 'Void' intent from his swordsmanship training—the idea of making himself a vacuum—and applied it to his grip.
"PULL!"
The grotto shook. Dust rained from the ceiling. A blinding flash of blue light erupted from the stone as the crystal blade finally slid free, screaming with a metallic ring that sounded like a god laughing.
Chris stumbled back, holding the sword aloft. It was light—lighter than his wooden branch—but it hummed with a terrifying, raw hunger.
He stood there, a young boy in a cave of blue light, holding a weapon that shouldn't exist, flanked by a wolf that shouldn't be his friend.
"Salvalon is to the north," Chris said, his voice echoing with a new, dangerous edge. He looked at Fen, who let out a triumphant howl. "I think it's time we showed this continent what a 'Disaster' really looks like."