The Eizhard family, one of the six heroic bloodlines, stood as a beacon of strength and mystery in the shadows of history. Known for their immense magical power and duty to protect the world from unseen threats, they lived isolated in the heart of an ancient forest. Their barony, veiled by towering trees and untouched wilderness, served as a fortress of secrecy, guarding the seal that imprisoned unimaginable horrors.

Baron Alaric Eizhard, the head of the family, was a man of unparalleled kindness. He treated his people with compassion and fairness, earning their unwavering loyalty and admiration. Unlike many nobles, Alaric was deeply involved in the lives of his subjects, ensuring their well-being and prosperity. His leadership was the foundation of the barony, a symbol of hope and stability for those who lived under his care..

Now, that once-proud lineage was reduced to one.

Albian Eizhard, the last of his family, stood amidst the wreckage of his ancestral home. The estate that had once symbolized strength and duty now lay in ruins. The surrounding land, their barony, was equally devastated. Blood stained the fields that once fed their people, and the charred remnants of houses stood as silent witnesses to the destruction. Bodies of villagers and guards lay scattered, their lifeless forms a painful reminder of the horrors that had unfolded.

Trembling, Albian fell to his knees. The weight of grief, rage, and despair crashed over him like a tidal wave. He clenched the book his father had shown him the night before the tragedy, the only thing he had taken with him. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over his cheeks and onto the leather cover. As if reacting to his anguish, the book began to glow.

The transformation was subtle at first, but soon, the book’s appearance shifted entirely. The worn leather darkened, intricate designs surfaced on its cover, and the title changed from an unrecognizable script to one he could suddenly comprehend: "The Origin."

Startled, Albian flung the book away. It fell open, and its pages began to turn, as if guided by an unseen hand. A diagram appeared on one of the pages, depicting a technique that promised to draw power from nature itself.

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Still trembling, Albian approached the book. He hesitated before sitting cross-legged on the ground, mimicking the posture shown in the illustration. Placing his hands on his knees, he closed his eyes and focused.

The forest around him seemed to breathe. The faint rustling of leaves, the distant murmur of a brook, and the cool wind brushing against his skin all converged. Time lost its meaning as Albian reached out to the unseen forces of nature.

Unbeknownst to him, the souls of the dead began to rise. One by one, they emerged from the lifeless bodies strewn across the land. Villagers, guards, and servants, those who had trusted the Eizhard family gathered around him. These were the people Albian had grown up with, people who had admired his kindness and fairness.

The spirits encircled him, their forms glowing faintly in the dim light. Though silent, their actions spoke volumes. They knelt, as if in prayer, their ethereal presence surrounding the last of the Eizhards. Slowly, they began to dissolve into streams of light, merging with Albian’s body.

Finally, two figures appeared: his father, Baron Alaric, and his mother, Lady Caroline. Their translucent forms knelt before him, their expressions filled with love and sorrow. They embraced Albian, their touch warm and comforting despite their spectral forms.

Tears streamed down their faces as they gave their final gifts, their life force and mana to their son. As they too became light and entered Albian’s body, his surroundings seemed to glow with newfound energy.

When Albian woke, he was lying on the forest floor, sunlight filtering through the canopy above. His body felt different, stronger, as if the strength of everyone he had lost now resided within him.

His memories of the dream were vivid. He had seen his parents, his friends, and the villagers. They had all smiled at him, bidding him goodbye with words of encouragement. Their unwavering belief in him ignited something within, a determination to grow stronger, to honor their sacrifices, and to destroy the demons that had taken everything from him.

Albian sat up, clutching The Origin to his chest. The journey ahead would be perilous, but he vowed to make every sacrifice worthwhile. With renewed resolve, he turned his gaze toward the distant horizon. The time for mourning had passed. Now, it was time to prepare for vengeance.