Centuries had passed since the defeat of the Dark Lord. His terrifying reign had become nothing more than ghostly whispers in history books—a nightmare thought to be buried forever. But darkness does not die—it lingers in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to return. Over the years, the Cult of Darkness, the corrupted remnants of the Dark Lord's will, had risen time and time again, spreading their corruption like a disease across the continent. And yet, the will of Arya—the First Hero, the savior of the land—remained alive in those who followed her, ensuring that "Ark," the Dark Lord, would never return.

  Eight years ago, Adam of House Shumeron, King of the Kingdom of Shumer—known as the Hero of the Continent—led a valiant assault on the stronghold of the Cult of Darkness. He did not fight for glory, but for the future of his people, for his children, and for the peace that his ancestors had sacrificed so much to achieve. On that day, the Cult of Darkness was crushed. On that day, the continent rejoiced.

  But peace is fragile, and darkness does not fade easily.

  The Royal Palace—Training Grounds

  "Come on! Is that all you've got, Alden?" Adam's voice echoed through the training yard. His sword was steady in his grip, his stance unwavering.

  Alden groaned, spitting out dirt as he tried to push himself up from the ground. His muscles screamed in protest, but his pride burned stronger. His father—King Adam—stood before him, his expression silent yet expectant.

  Alden tightened his grip on his sword stubbornly. This time, his attack wouldn’t be so predictable.

  He lunged forward, channeling his magical energy into his arms. His sword glowed with raw power, the air around him bending under the force of his strike. But then he saw it—that fleeting look of disappointment in his father's eyes.

  So clear.

  He realized the truth at the last second and shifted his energy to his feet instead. With a powerful leap, he soared over Adam's head, twisting mid-air to strike from behind. His sword cut through the air, aimed at his father’s flank—

  But it hit nothing.

  "Good move," Adam said calmly, already behind Alden, smiling as if he had predicted everything.

  Frustration boiled in Alden. "Yeah, but it didn't work!"

  "It did," Adam replied, his voice carrying rare warmth. "You just weren't fast enough. Listen carefully, Alden. Mana is not just power—it’s control. If you master wind, you can boost your speed at the perfect moment. If you combine it with fire, your strikes will hit like meteors. But be careful—push too far, and you'll exhaust yourself."

  Alden's eyes widened. The thought of moving like the wind, striking with fire—it lit a new determination in his heart. "I want to try it!"

  Adam chuckled, patting his son's shoulder. "That’s the spirit! But first, master the basics."

  A maid approached, bowing. "My lord, dinner is ready."

  Adam nodded. "Come, Alden. Even warriors need to eat."

  The Royal Dining Hall

  Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the long dining table, where Adam’s family had gathered. The aroma of roasted meats and spiced wine filled the air, but despite the feast before them, Alden and his sister Kaya were already bickering.

  "How was training?" Queen Christina asked.

  "Alden must have lost again," Kaya said smugly, sipping her tea.

  "You talk like you could do better," Alden shot back. "At least I don't hide behind books all day."

  Christina sighed. "Must you two argue at every meal?"

  "She started it!"

  "I'm only stating the truth," Kaya said with mock pride.

  "Enough," Adam said, shaking his head with an amused smile. "For what it's worth, Alden is improving. One day, he'll make a great king."

  Alden’s face darkened. "I don’t want to be king," he muttered. "I want to be an adventurer. I want to travel the continent, fight monsters, explore ruins—not sit on a throne and attend boring meetings."

  Adam’s smile faded. "Is that what you think a king does?" His voice was sharper now, his gaze piercing. "A true king does not simply sit and give orders. A king carries the burdens of his people—their hopes, their fears, their future. Anyone can sit on a throne, Alden. But not everyone can rule."

  Silence filled the room.

  Alden looked away, gripping his fork tightly. "I... don’t know if I can."

  "You won’t know until you try," Adam said, his tone gentler now. "Responsibility is not a choice, Alden. It’s a burden you must be ready to bear."

  Christina glanced at Alric, who sat nearby, his eyes distant, lost in thought.

  "Alric, dear… are you alright?" she asked, concern in her voice.

  He blinked, as if pulled from a trance. "Oh, yes… just thinking about some lessons from the academy."

  Adam studied him for a moment before saying, "Good. But don’t neglect your combat training. Tomorrow, you’ll join us in the practice yard."

  Alric hesitated before replying, "...Alright."

  But there was no conviction in his voice.

  Late at Night…

  Christina stood by the window, gazing at the dark sky, worry etched on her face.

  Adam entered quietly, observing her before speaking. "You’re still awake?"

  She sighed but didn’t turn to face him. He approached, wrapping his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her hair in an attempt to comfort her.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "What’s troubling you?" he murmured.

  "It’s Alric… ever since he returned from the academy, he’s been… different."

  "I’ve noticed, too."

  She clenched the edge of her robe, her fingers intertwined as if trying to hold herself together. "Do you think it has anything to do with—"

  Adam placed a gentle finger on her lips, silencing her. "Shhh… don’t worry. That matter was settled years ago. I’ll talk to him. Everything will be fine."

  She didn’t respond, but she closed her eyes and wished he was right.

  ---

  In Alric's Room...

  Adam knocked on the door twice before hearing a voice from inside: "Come in."

  He opened the door to find Alric sitting amidst circles of dim light, the air around him charged with an invisible yet palpable magical energy.

  "It seems you've been casting some spells," Adam said as he observed the room.

  Alric slowly lifted his head. "Oh, yes... How did you know?"

  Adam smiled slightly as he walked further into the room. "There's a trace of strong magic in the air. It must be a complex spell… Maybe that's why you didn't train with us today? Or are you afraid I'd be too strong of an opponent for you?"

  A faint smile appeared on Alric’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "No, it's not that… it's just..."

  Adam chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, I was just teasing you." Then he turned toward the window, where the moon was beginning to rise on the horizon. "How about going for a walk with me? The weather seems nice tonight."

  Alric hesitated for a moment before replying in a quiet voice: "...Alright."

  But he wasn't sure if he could truly set his thoughts aside, even for a moment.

  ---

  The Garden

  "Look at the sky, Alric."

  Father and son stood in the royal garden, the crisp night air carrying the scent of blooming lilies. Above them stretched an endless sky, filled with countless stars.

  "It’s so dark."

  "Yes," Adam said quietly. "But see the stars? They shine even in the darkest nights. No matter how deep the darkness, they never fade."

  Alric exhaled. "I wonder… does the world see us the same way?"

  Adam studied his son before smiling. "The way the world sees you is the same way you choose to see yourself."

  Alric opened his mouth to respond—

  But then—

  A rustling sound in the bushes.

  Adam's eyes sharpened instantly. His instincts screamed danger.

  "Who's there?" His voice cut through the night.

  A chuckle—cold and mocking—emerged from the shadows.

  "Ah, the great Adam… just as sharp as ever."

  Three figures stepped forward. And the moment Adam laid eyes on the one in the center, his blood ran cold.

  That aura… it’s cursed!

  "Eight years," the woman whispered. "Did you really think it was over?"

  A sharp wind howled through the garden. Adam's heart pounded.

  "Alric," he said, his voice tight. "Run. Now."

  ---

  "What is that sound?!" Alden exclaimed.

  "It’s coming from the corridor ahead," the guard replied.

  Kyaaa!!

  "That voice... it's Kaya!"

  Alden sprinted toward the source of the scream. But when he arrived, he froze in place. His heart pounded wildly, his mind refusing to comprehend what he was seeing.

  Adam lay motionless, his once-mighty body shattered, torn apart, destroyed.

  His right arm—gone, severed at the elbow.

  A deep, gaping wound had split open his abdomen, dark blood pooling beneath him.

  And his eyes...

  They were crying blood.

  ---

  Christina rushed toward her husband, her hands ablaze with golden mana. She did not hesitate for a second.

  "Adam!" she cried, pressing her hands over his wounds. "Stay with me! Don’t you dare leave me!"

  She poured her healing magic into him—desperate, furious, devouring her from the inside.

  Warm golden light engulfed his body, surging like a raging river, trying to mend the unmendable.

  But nothing changed.

  His wounds did not close.

  His breaths remained shallow.

  His life was slipping away, draining through her fingers like grains of sand.

  "No, no, no! Heal him!" Christina screamed, drowning in an ocean of magic, pushing past her limits.

  But she felt it—the resistance. The curse clinging to him like an unshakable shadow.

  The weapon that struck him was no ordinary one.

  It was cursed.

  And cursed wounds could not be healed.

  But she refused to give up.

  "If you won't help… then I will!" Christina shouted at the healers, summoning every last drop of mana she had. Her body trembled violently as her magic began to consume her very life force.

  Her hands glowed brighter—shifting from soft gold to a blinding white. Cracks formed along her fingertips, spreading up her arms like shattered porcelain. Her lips turned pale, her vision blurred. Her once-strong heartbeat became erratic.

  She was dying.

  "Your Majesty! Stop!" One of the healers tried to intervene, stepping forward—but immediately recoiled, his face drained of color. "She… she’s absorbing mana from everything around her!"

  Christina's body was demanding more, drawing life force from everything nearby—from the air, from the palace, from the people surrounding her.

  If she didn’t stop, she would die too.

  "Mother! Stop!"

  A new voice cut through the chaos.

  Kaya.

  She grabbed her mother’s wrists, trying to pull them away.

  "Mother, please! He’s gone! You have to stop!" she cried, her nails digging into Christina’s skin, trying to shake her from her madness.

  Christina turned to her daughter, her face twisted with agony, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  "I can’t… I can’t just let him go," she sobbed.

  "You must!" Kaya’s voice broke, but she held on tighter. "You must, because if you don’t… we’ll lose you too!"

  Christina’s breath hitched.

  Kaya’s fingers trembled as she whispered, "Mother… if you die too… who will be here for us? Who will protect us? Do you think Father would have wanted this?"

  Christina did not answer.

  She only stared at Adam’s lifeless face.

  And the weight of reality crashed into her like a storm.

  Adam was gone.

  And nothing could bring him back.

  Her magic wavered, its golden glow dimming, flickering like a candle in the wind.

  Then—it vanished completely.

  Christina collapsed. Kaya caught her, holding her tightly as they both broke down in sobs, their tears falling onto Adam’s cold, lifeless body.

  ---

  Alden stood frozen, his breaths shallow, his body refusing to move.

  His father—Adam the Invincible of House Shomeron, the Hero of the Continent—was dead.

  A cold wind swept through the shattered palace walls. The night stretched above them, silent. The stars shone steadily, indifferent, as if the world had not just lost its greatest light.

  Through the broken walls, the battle outside still raged. The clash of swords and the distant cries of soldiers filled the air. But to Alden, it all felt… far away.

  Like a dream.

  A nightmare from which he would never wake.

  The healers stood nearby, powerless, their heads bowed.

  "His mana… it's completely gone," one of them murmured in resignation. "There’s nothing left."

  There was nothing left.

  Alden clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His chest burned, his vision blurred with unshed tears.

  How?

  How could this happen?

  Adam was supposed to be undefeated. A hero. A king. A father.

  And now, he was just… a corpse.

  A scream built in Alden’s throat, but he could not release it.

  His mother wept in his sister’s arms.

  His father’s body grew colder and colder.

  And for the first time in his life—Alden felt truly alone.

  The Hero of the Continent had fallen.

  And the darkness… was only beginning.

  ---