Chapter 23:
Ashes and whispers
The Conqueror
Chapter 23 – Ashes and whispers
The market was still a battlefield.Smoke curled lazily into the reddening sky, drifting from the half-collapsed stalls where flames had already done their worst. The air was thick—an ugly marriage of charred wood and the metallic sting of blood. People shouted over one another, their voices ragged with panic, grief, and exhaustion.
Guild members moved like soldiers in a war zone, lifting rubble, pulling survivors from wreckage, and guiding the wounded to the makeshift medical tents. The white-robed medics worked in silence, their faces drawn. They knelt beside the injured, binding wounds, pressing cloth to stop the bleeding. Others carried the dead on wooden stretchers, their shrouded forms rocking gently with every step.
If the defense had been even a few minutes later, the destruction would have swallowed the entire market. Now, only a third of it lay in ruins—but to those who had lost everything, that fraction felt like the whole world.
The sun was dipping toward the horizon, casting long shadows that crept over the broken streets. Its golden light bled into crimson, as if the sky itself mourned what had happened. Slowly, darkness seeped into the alleys and corners.
The sun is setting down, casting a darkness. The moon was tired to come out, like a weary guardian reluctant to take its post.
And tonight, it was a no-moon night. The world seemed smaller under such a sky, and the faint fragrance of fear hung in the air like unseen smoke.
---
Far from the chaos, in the capital, a different kind of tension had unfolded.The great hall of the Governor's Palace now stood empty. The meeting between leaders had already ended . Without lingering for pleasantries, each representative had departed in haste, returning to their own countries. Trouble brewed everywhere, and even the safety of the capital could no longer be guaranteed.
---
Maura Country – Marisville
On the far eastern coast of Maura lay Marisville, a fishing village once praised for its serene beauty. It clung to the rocky shoreline, its wooden houses weathered by salt and wind. Narrow streets carried the constant scent of the sea—salt, drying fish, and kelp. Fishing boats rested in the small harbor, rocking gently against their moorings, and from the cliffs above, a solitary lighthouse stood like an old guardian, keeping silent watch over the waters.
But the Marisville of today was no postcard scene.It was ruin.
Houses had been torn apart, reduced to splintered beams and scattered shingles. The cobbled streets were stained a deep, wet red, and the harbor's once-proud boats lay half-sunk, their masts broken like snapped bones. Smoke still drifted from smoldering wreckage, mixing with the sharp, nauseating scent of blood.
The attack had come swiftly. Two sea beasts—a giant tiger shrimp and an octopus large enough to wrap its tentacles around entire boats—had emerged from the deep without warning. The villagers fought with everything they had, for Marisville was known for its hardy, strong-willed people. But bravery could not replace numbers, and the guild presence here had been light—just a few officers, skilled but no match for such monsters. They fell one by one, holding the line until reinforcements could arrive. By the time aid reached the village, half of it was gone.
---
Elsgaurds Country – Silverleaf Village
Silverleaf was a dwarven settlement tucked among emerald hills and silver-barked trees. Unlike Marisville, it had survived its recent attack unscathed. Two earth dragons—one a horned Lindwurm, the other a drake with scales like dark stone—had descended upon the village. But the dwarves of Silverleaf were not known for retreat.
Warriors swarmed the beasts, axes flashing under the sun. With brutal precision, they severed the dragons' legs before striking their skulls with crushing blows. The fight was over in minutes, leaving no casualties among the dwarves. For them, it was not just victory—it was a reminder to any who would threaten their home that Silverleaf's defenders offered no mercy.
---
Back in the Market
Marcus and his squad finally arrived at the site. The once-bustling square was now scattered with debris and the echoes of grief. A young officer, armor still dented from the fight, approached Marcus and saluted.
"Sir. Market's a third destroyed. Five of our members dead, seven villagers gone."
Marcus's jaw tightened. His eyes swept the wreckage, lingering on the bodies shrouded in white cloth. "And the attackers?"
"Norman and Samy took down the giant before it could reach the central street."
Marcus nodded, relief hidden beneath a mask of command. But his gaze shifted, scanning for Samy.
---
In the shadowed forest behind the village, Samy stood over a beaten man. The figure wore a black mask marked with the image of a rose wrapped in thorns. He lay sprawled in the dirt, bleeding and gasping for air. Samy knelt beside him, one hand gripping the man's collar.
"Who sent you?" Samy's voice was low, sharp as drawn steel. "What do they want now?"
The man coughed out a laugh—dry, broken."Ha… haaa… The moon sleeps, hiding in the clouds…"
He spat blood, eyes wild.
"But the sun burns with ambition. Soon… soon the sun will rule."
His eyes began to turn red, blood leaking from their corners. His grin twisted into something unnatural before his body convulsed. With a final gurgle, he went still.
Samy released him and stood, the forest around him suddenly feeling colder.
---
Three Years Later
The clamor of battle filled the training grounds of Elyasia's capital guild. Shinra, now eleven, moved like lightning, sparring with an older student. Each clash of their blades echoed across the yard. Sweat dripped down Shinra's brow, but his eyes stayed locked on his opponent—focused, determined. He was faster, stronger, and far more disciplined than the boy who had once hidden behind others in a fight.
Pine village, in a quiet house, Samy left a letter on the kitchen table beside a neatly packed bag. Two katanas rested atop it, their hilts wrapped in worn leather. Without a sound, he stepped out into the morning mist.
In Marcus's office, Ryken stood at attention, receiving his orders. War had ignited in Maura Country, and the guild was sending reinforcements to aid their allies. Ryken returned home, quickly gathering his gear. On the hall table, he placed his own letter before leaving in haste.
---
The Next Morning
Shinra returned to find both letters waiting for him. He read Samy's first—words of thanks, apologies for leaving without explanation, and a request for Shinra to take care of himself.
Then Ryken's—brief and to the point. A mission in Maura, a promise to return soon.
Shinra sat at the table, tension weighing on him. His hand rested on an apple, but after a single bite, exhaustion won out. He dozed off, head resting on folded arms.
---
A Dream of the Past
He was five again, running through the sunlit fields outside his village. His parents' laughter rang in his ears, warm and comforting. Then his grandfather—an elf like his mother—knelt before him, pressing a small brass compass into his palm.Telling him."This will guide you where you wish to go," voice low and knowing.
"Some say it points to the Rune Dungeon, where artifacts older than kingdoms lie. But remember… such treasures draw both heroes and monsters."
No one knew where the dungeon was. Guilds and governors alike searched endlessly, but it remained hidden—waiting.
---
The Next Morning
The real morning was bright, the air sharp with the promise of travel. Shinra stood at the edge of the village, Lizz perched on his shoulder. His bag hung heavy on his back, and in his hand, the compass needle pointed west.
"I know what I want," he murmured.
Lizz leapt from his shoulder, shifting into her true form—sleek, winged, and magnificent. Shinra climbed onto her back, and with a powerful beat of her wings, they soared into the western sky.
Toward the unknown.
The market was still a battlefield.Smoke curled lazily into the reddening sky, drifting from the half-collapsed stalls where flames had already done their worst. The air was thick—an ugly marriage of charred wood and the metallic sting of blood. People shouted over one another, their voices ragged with panic, grief, and exhaustion.
Guild members moved like soldiers in a war zone, lifting rubble, pulling survivors from wreckage, and guiding the wounded to the makeshift medical tents. The white-robed medics worked in silence, their faces drawn. They knelt beside the injured, binding wounds, pressing cloth to stop the bleeding. Others carried the dead on wooden stretchers, their shrouded forms rocking gently with every step.
If the defense had been even a few minutes later, the destruction would have swallowed the entire market. Now, only a third of it lay in ruins—but to those who had lost everything, that fraction felt like the whole world.
The sun was dipping toward the horizon, casting long shadows that crept over the broken streets. Its golden light bled into crimson, as if the sky itself mourned what had happened. Slowly, darkness seeped into the alleys and corners.
The sun is setting down, casting a darkness. The moon was tired to come out, like a weary guardian reluctant to take its post.
And tonight, it was a no-moon night. The world seemed smaller under such a sky, and the faint fragrance of fear hung in the air like unseen smoke.
---
Far from the chaos, in the capital, a different kind of tension had unfolded.The great hall of the Governor's Palace now stood empty. The meeting between leaders had already ended . Without lingering for pleasantries, each representative had departed in haste, returning to their own countries. Trouble brewed everywhere, and even the safety of the capital could no longer be guaranteed.
---
Maura Country – Marisville
On the far eastern coast of Maura lay Marisville, a fishing village once praised for its serene beauty. It clung to the rocky shoreline, its wooden houses weathered by salt and wind. Narrow streets carried the constant scent of the sea—salt, drying fish, and kelp. Fishing boats rested in the small harbor, rocking gently against their moorings, and from the cliffs above, a solitary lighthouse stood like an old guardian, keeping silent watch over the waters.
But the Marisville of today was no postcard scene.It was ruin.
Houses had been torn apart, reduced to splintered beams and scattered shingles. The cobbled streets were stained a deep, wet red, and the harbor's once-proud boats lay half-sunk, their masts broken like snapped bones. Smoke still drifted from smoldering wreckage, mixing with the sharp, nauseating scent of blood.
The attack had come swiftly. Two sea beasts—a giant tiger shrimp and an octopus large enough to wrap its tentacles around entire boats—had emerged from the deep without warning. The villagers fought with everything they had, for Marisville was known for its hardy, strong-willed people. But bravery could not replace numbers, and the guild presence here had been light—just a few officers, skilled but no match for such monsters. They fell one by one, holding the line until reinforcements could arrive. By the time aid reached the village, half of it was gone.
---
Elsgaurds Country – Silverleaf Village
Silverleaf was a dwarven settlement tucked among emerald hills and silver-barked trees. Unlike Marisville, it had survived its recent attack unscathed. Two earth dragons—one a horned Lindwurm, the other a drake with scales like dark stone—had descended upon the village. But the dwarves of Silverleaf were not known for retreat.
Warriors swarmed the beasts, axes flashing under the sun. With brutal precision, they severed the dragons' legs before striking their skulls with crushing blows. The fight was over in minutes, leaving no casualties among the dwarves. For them, it was not just victory—it was a reminder to any who would threaten their home that Silverleaf's defenders offered no mercy.
---
Back in the Market
Marcus and his squad finally arrived at the site. The once-bustling square was now scattered with debris and the echoes of grief. A young officer, armor still dented from the fight, approached Marcus and saluted.
"Sir. Market's a third destroyed. Five of our members dead, seven villagers gone."
Marcus's jaw tightened. His eyes swept the wreckage, lingering on the bodies shrouded in white cloth. "And the attackers?"
"Norman and Samy took down the giant before it could reach the central street."
Marcus nodded, relief hidden beneath a mask of command. But his gaze shifted, scanning for Samy.
---
In the shadowed forest behind the village, Samy stood over a beaten man. The figure wore a black mask marked with the image of a rose wrapped in thorns. He lay sprawled in the dirt, bleeding and gasping for air. Samy knelt beside him, one hand gripping the man's collar.
"Who sent you?" Samy's voice was low, sharp as drawn steel. "What do they want now?"
The man coughed out a laugh—dry, broken."Ha… haaa… The moon sleeps, hiding in the clouds…"
He spat blood, eyes wild.
"But the sun burns with ambition. Soon… soon the sun will rule."
His eyes began to turn red, blood leaking from their corners. His grin twisted into something unnatural before his body convulsed. With a final gurgle, he went still.
Samy released him and stood, the forest around him suddenly feeling colder.
---
Three Years Later
The clamor of battle filled the training grounds of Elyasia's capital guild. Shinra, now eleven, moved like lightning, sparring with an older student. Each clash of their blades echoed across the yard. Sweat dripped down Shinra's brow, but his eyes stayed locked on his opponent—focused, determined. He was faster, stronger, and far more disciplined than the boy who had once hidden behind others in a fight.
Pine village, in a quiet house, Samy left a letter on the kitchen table beside a neatly packed bag. Two katanas rested atop it, their hilts wrapped in worn leather. Without a sound, he stepped out into the morning mist.
In Marcus's office, Ryken stood at attention, receiving his orders. War had ignited in Maura Country, and the guild was sending reinforcements to aid their allies. Ryken returned home, quickly gathering his gear. On the hall table, he placed his own letter before leaving in haste.
---
The Next Morning
Shinra returned to find both letters waiting for him. He read Samy's first—words of thanks, apologies for leaving without explanation, and a request for Shinra to take care of himself.
Then Ryken's—brief and to the point. A mission in Maura, a promise to return soon.
Shinra sat at the table, tension weighing on him. His hand rested on an apple, but after a single bite, exhaustion won out. He dozed off, head resting on folded arms.
---
A Dream of the Past
He was five again, running through the sunlit fields outside his village. His parents' laughter rang in his ears, warm and comforting. Then his grandfather—an elf like his mother—knelt before him, pressing a small brass compass into his palm.Telling him."This will guide you where you wish to go," voice low and knowing.
"Some say it points to the Rune Dungeon, where artifacts older than kingdoms lie. But remember… such treasures draw both heroes and monsters."
No one knew where the dungeon was. Guilds and governors alike searched endlessly, but it remained hidden—waiting.
---
The Next Morning
The real morning was bright, the air sharp with the promise of travel. Shinra stood at the edge of the village, Lizz perched on his shoulder. His bag hung heavy on his back, and in his hand, the compass needle pointed west.
"I know what I want," he murmured.
Lizz leapt from his shoulder, shifting into her true form—sleek, winged, and magnificent. Shinra climbed onto her back, and with a powerful beat of her wings, they soared into the western sky.
Toward the unknown.
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