Noah stepped into Marim, a town seemingly grown from the forest itself. Ancient oaks and sturdy cedars served as the foundations for homes and shops, their branches woven into rooftops, while vines and wildflowers formed vibrant accents along doors and windows. It was difficult to tell where the forest ended and the town began. Lanterns dangled from high boughs overhead, promising gentle illumination after dusk.

  On the cobbled streets below, shopkeepers sold bundles of herbs, and the rhythmic clang of blacksmiths rang through the mild morning air. A comforting scent of fresh bread drifted from a nearby bakery, mingling with the earthy aroma of pine. Children’s laughter wove between the wide trunks, while elders carved small wooden figurines at impromptu stalls. At the center of Marim rose a colossal, centuries-old tree holding a platform used for festivals and gatherings—a living heart that pulsed with the town’s spirit.

  Lux observed this bustling scene with polite disinterest. By contrast, Noah felt a calming resonance with the forest’s quiet rhythm; its tranquil energy offered a rare moment of peace in the wake of his recent tragedy.

  That peace was cut short when a woman with lime-green hair, threaded with delicate blue flowers, suddenly threw her arms around him. Ava clung to him, tears in her golden eyes.

  “Noah, I was terrified,” she choked out, pressing her face to his chest. “Survivors from your territory reached us here. We learned bits and pieces… I couldn’t stop worrying. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

  “I’m alright, really,” Noah assured her, wriggling awkwardly in her embrace. “But—could I get a little breathing room?”

  Ava’s tearful expression flickered with mischief. A soft yellow glow danced over her hand, and a moment later, Noah felt his limbs lock in place. “Don’t think you’re escaping that easily,” she teased. She held him for a few extra heartbeats before finally releasing him.

  Noah exhaled in relief. “Your ability always feels stranger each time you use it.”

  Ava’s playful smile faded, replaced by concern. “But… is it really just you here in Marim, Noah?”

  His expression fell. “My parents…they didn’t make it. And Isabelle, my sister, was taken by the Crows. As for Isaac, I…I don’t know. He vanished. He could be anywhere.”

  Her grip on his hand tightened gently. “We’ll find them. We’ll bring them home,” Ava promised, voice tender. “You won’t have to do it alone.”

  Noah’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

  Behind him, Lux cleared his throat. “Pardon me, newbie hero, but we do have a mission. Let’s not dawdle.”

  Ava turned a sharp glare on Lux. “Mission? What mission?”

  Noah took a breath, steeling himself. “I’m…apparently the hero chosen for this era,” he explained, “and this is Lux, the God of Hope. My first task is to take down the Black Witch.”

  Ava’s eyes widened, then flashed with anger. In a blur, she caught Lux by the collar, shaking him with unexpected force. “You’re sending Noah on that kind of suicide mission? Are you insane?!”

  “H-hey!” Lux protested, trying to brace himself against her grip. “Show some respect—I’m a god—Noah, do something!”

  Noah merely shrugged. “I’d help you, Lux, but I know better than to get between Ava and her temper.”

  Eventually, Ava let Lux go, though her glare remained fierce. “I’m coming with you, Noah.”

  “What? Ava, no. It’s too dangerous,” Noah argued.

  Lux smirked, brushing himself off. “She does have the spirit for a Berserker.”

  Ava’s glare shifted to him. “For your information, you clueless deity, my class is assassin.”

  Undeterred, Lux nodded approvingly. “Even better. As for you, Noah, I imagine you’ll develop into a paladin role with your healing potential and front-line magic.”

  Noah pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If we’re really doing this, it’d help to have a ranger. I can handle healing and melee damage, but we need more ranged firepower.”

  Ava agreed. “I’m decent with a bow, but my Regalia is optimized for stealth. A true ranger would be invaluable.”

  Lux gave a curt nod. “Yes, we’ll need at least four people or someone exceptionally skilled with long-range combat.”

  Noah glanced at Lux. “Can’t you just fight in our place? You are a primordial god.”

  Lux shrugged, avoiding Ava’s lingering glare. “I used a huge amount of my divine power bringing you back after you were killed, remember? Also, the Black Witch’s barrier will shut me out.”

  Ava’s eyes darted from Lux to Noah. “Killed? What happened out there?”

  Noah inhaled slowly, gaze distant. “One of the Crows’ commanders overwhelmed me. I really did die. Lux resurrected me.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Lux added, trying to sound nonchalant. “It was a case of rotten luck on your part—facing one of the Seven Wings with zero preparation.”

  Ava clenched her fists. “Tell me who did it. I’ll rip him limb from limb.”

  Noah placed a calming hand on her shoulder, showing her his shirt—torn and stained, but the lethal wound now healed. “Look, I’m okay.”

  Relief flickered across Ava’s features. She turned to Lux, voice trembling with earnest gratitude. “Thank you for saving him.”

  Lux lifted his chin, feigning indifference. “I only did it because he was…useful.”

  Ava let out a soft, shaky laugh. Then she seemed to remember something. “Actually, I heard about a strange doctor who arrived here recently. He’s apparently come to hunt the Black Witch too, and rumors say his ability uses ice.”

  Lux perked up. “Ice? That’s perfect. The Black Mist that witch commands is highly susceptible to cold. This doctor could be exactly what we need.”

  Determination lit Noah’s eyes. “Alright, let’s see if we can recruit him.”

  They made their way to the Starlight Inn, a cozy lodge built into the thick trunk of a massive tree. Lanterns along the wooden walls cast a warm glow on the oak tables and stone hearth, while light from stained-glass windows painted the floors in patches of green, gold, and blue. Groups of adventurers and travelers mingled, some resting from their journeys, others trading stories or quietly honing weapons. Survivors of the recent attack on Fafnir’s territory sat in hushed corners, mustering hope through shared tales of survival.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A pair of knights disappeared into a private room, their armor clinking with each step. Meanwhile, a loud cluster of adventurers clanked tankards at a corner table. Amidst this rustic bustle stood a tall man in a spotless white lab coat—strikingly out of place. Cyan hair fell across his forehead, and two curved horns rose proudly from his head. One eye glowed with a deep purple hue; the other shone cyan, marked by a faint, ticking clock symbol.

  Ava strode over. “Are you the doctor who wants to hunt the Black Witch?”

  He inclined his head. “I am. My name is Cyrus Sanguine. And yes, Vanitas Sanguine—the Seventh Apocalypse, sometimes called the Apocalypse of Calamity—was my father.”

  A tense hush fell over the table as Lux pinned Cyrus with a cold stare. “So that’s where you get your filthy blood. Should we even bother, or should I dispose of you now?”

  Rage flashed across Cyrus’s features. “I remember you, Lux. My mother told me everything about the monster who forced my uncle to kill my father. You had that same smug look back then.”

  Noah’s jaw tightened as he turned to Lux. “How many families have you shattered, Lux? How many times have you manipulated people into killing their own blood?”

  Lux shrugged with a dismissive smile. “I pitted the First Apocalypse against her children, the Sixth Hero was forced to face his sister, and the Seventh Hero fought his brother—so I’ve used the ‘family against family’ trick three times, more or less. It’s proven…efficient.”

  Cyrus’s eyes darkened, and an inky substance spiraled down his arm, shaping itself into a claw that clamped around Lux’s throat. He pulled Lux close, voice dripping lethal intent. “You’re lucky I have more pressing priorities, or I’d snap your neck right here, god or not.”

  He released Lux with a shove, and Lux stumbled back, lips curving into a disturbingly amused grin. “Such spirit,” he remarked, sounding almost…pleased. “So, Cyrus, how about we set aside old resentments and form a truce to handle the Black Witch?”

  Cyrus’s glare was ice. “I’m not killing her unless she refuses to hand over what I need. After that, do what you want.”

  Lux nodded, extending his hand as if sealing a business deal. “So be it. Allies, for now.”

  Cyrus hesitated—disdain mingling with his own sense of necessity—before he finally clasped Lux’s hand in a quick, tense shake. “But understand, if you betray me or hamper my mission in any way, I’ll kill you. No second chances.”

  Lux smirked. “You’re welcome to try. Truly.”

  A strained silence followed until Noah cleared his throat. “Um, hi. I’m Noah. And this is Ava.” He gestured to her. “So…yeah, this is all pretty awkward.”

  Ava gave Cyrus a polite nod. “I’m his fiancée—Ava. Thanks for hearing us out, even if this arrangement is tense.”

  Cyrus inclined his head in return, still visibly guarded. “I can tolerate a temporary partnership if it serves my goal.”

  Noah rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “So…why are you after the Black Witch?”

  Shadows flickered in Cyrus’s gaze. “I’ve been researching the black mist for years. My brother was almost consumed by it after a failed experiment. He isn’t a King’s Candidate, so it nearly devoured him. I managed to keep him alive—barely—but to truly save him, I need a tome the Black Witch possesses. That book has the ability to purify the black mist.”

  Noah nodded, empathy touching his eyes. “I see. That’s…honorable. Are you a King’s Candidate yourself?”

  Cyrus gave a curt nod. “Yes. I’ve learned its weaknesses intimately. If we work together, our odds of surviving—and succeeding—go up.”

  Noah exhaled, a faint smile forming. “I had a good feeling about you. Looks like I was right.”

  Cyrus’s lips curved slightly in response. “I can appreciate good instincts. However, I’d like to see your skills firsthand. Let’s have a friendly duel to gauge your combat capabilities.”

  Noah’s eyes lit with determination. “Sure. I need to see what you can do, too.”

  They ventured to a quiet clearing on Marim’s outskirts. Tall trees ringed a grassy field, and a sudden breeze carried the hush of distant birds. Ava and Lux stood by, watching as Noah and Cyrus took positions several strides apart.

  “Ready?” Noah asked, shifting into a defensive stance.

  Without a word, a black fluid slithered over Cyrus’s pristine lab coat, enveloping it in an obsidian sheen. Obsidian blades extended from his sleeves, and a raven-feathered plague doctor mask took shape over his face. Its crimson lenses glowed with eerie malevolence, the short beak parted slightly in a sinister grin.

  At the sight of the plague mask, Noah felt a stab of apprehension—it recalled the ominous garb of the Crows’ leader. Yet Cyrus wore it with a distinct aura of control, not cruelty. This was his power, refined for battle.

  He leveled one blade at Noah. “Come on, ‘hero.’ Show me what you can do.”

  Noah tightened his grip on his sword, dark energy pulsing faintly along the blade. His draconic eyes locked on Cyrus, who stood with arms folded and a dismissive smirk.

  “You’d better summon your regalia,” Cyrus remarked. “A basic weapon won’t last long against me.”

  Noah’s jaw clenched. “I don’t have one.”

  Cyrus’s scoff cut the air. “A hero without a regalia? How…unfortunate.”

  “Shut up!” Noah lunged, channeling his frustration into swift strikes. Yet Cyrus flowed around each swing, his movements smooth and effortless.

  In a blur, Cyrus conjured an ice mallet. He brought it crashing into Noah with brutal force, sending him skidding across the clearing. Ava rushed to his side, horror etched on her face.

  “Noah, are you alright?” she asked, voice trembling.

  He coughed, forcing himself upright. “I’m fine. Just—don’t worry.”

  “What the hell was that for?” Ava snapped, eyes flashing.

  Cyrus shrugged, unrepentant. “He’ll never stand a chance against the Black Witch if he’s coddled. The truth is, he’s weak.”

  Noah’s frustration boiled over. “Why am I always too weak?!” he yelled, tears brimming. “I can’t do anything—never could. Everyone’s lapped me three times over, and I’m still stuck at the starting line!”

  A painful hush followed, broken only by Noah’s labored breathing. Then he raised his head, eyes aflame with resolve. “But I won’t give up. Knock me down a thousand times, I’ll stand up a thousand and one.”

  As if responding to his resolve, the dark spots on Noah’s skin began to pulse, absorbing the misfortune of those around him. Wounds healed all over town, aches vanished—yet Noah shuddered, blood trickling from his mouth. Still, he channeled the stolen despair into his sword, black lightning crackling along the blade.

  “You hear me?” he shouted, voice echoing. “I may be weak, but I’m the hero. I’ll turn every misery in this world into hope—and I won’t back down!”

  Cyrus’s eyes flickered with something like respect. “Impressive talk for a pretender hero. Show me your strength.”

  Noah lunged again, blade awash in black lightning. Cyrus sidestepped, countering with a whirling scythe of ice that clashed against Noah’s sword, sending tremors of frost and crackling darkness across the clearing.

  They broke apart, breathing hard. Cyrus conjured a volley of ice shards, but Noah deflected them with a surge of dark power. The two exchanged blows in a dizzying dance of steel and magic—Cyrus’s icy precision pitted against Noah’s raw, desperate force.

  “You rely too much on brute strength,” Cyrus scolded. He transformed his scythe into an ice whip, snapping it around Noah’s arm. Noah gasped at the freezing bite, but black lightning rippled through him, shattering the whip. In a burst of momentum, he charged Cyrus with rapid strikes, backing the doctor into a corner.

  Cyrus retaliated with a gust of frigid wind, trying to freeze Noah in place. Fighting through numbing cold, Noah slammed his blade into the ground, sending a dark shockwave that forced Cyrus to leap away.

  When Cyrus landed, he channeled his power into a final swing, his scythe’s ice blade shattering Noah’s sword. Yet before Cyrus could lower his guard, Noah lunged forward, fists charged with dark energy.

  “Clench your teeth,” Noah growled, draconic eyes burning.

  His uppercut caught Cyrus under the jaw, cracking the plague doctor mask and staggering him. Cyrus wiped his mouth, a grin forming despite the blow. “Well done, Noah. Let’s call it a draw before we both go too far.”

  But Noah had already hit his limit. He swayed, muttered, “I’m counting this as a win…” and collapsed into unconsciousness. Ava rushed in, cradling his head gently.

  “That idiot,” she sighed with a wry smile. “He always pushes himself too hard.” A hint of affection shone in her eyes as she brushed his hair aside. “He’s cute when he refuses to give up, though.”

  Cyrus chuckled, stepping back to let her tend to Noah. “Take him to recover. We’ll plan our raid tomorrow. He’ll need the rest.”

  Ava nodded and lifted Noah, heading off into Marim’s settling twilight. Tomorrow, she thought, we fight again. But for now, Noah would have at least a moment’s peace before the battles ahead.