“To live is to suffer; to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.”
– Friedrich Nietzsche
image [https://clipart-library.com/images_k/text-divider-transparent/text-divider-transparent-19.png]
Somewhere in the middle of Rivermarsh Plains, a noble carriage travelled along the road, headed toward the central kingdom of Valkarion. Outside, twenty guards rode alongside, a few knights among them tasked with protecting the prince inside. A teen with blondé hair and light blue eyes, the prince, Ulysses, sat inside the carriage with his cousin, Johanne, who was three years older than him and had come to spend the week with him during her vacation.
Ulysses, at 17, was the oldest child of the King of Valkarion, who had three children in total. Despite his age, Ulysses had been admitted to the academy early and took advanced courses like Cultural and Social Studies and Magical and Arcane Studies. Many in Valkarion considered him a prodigy.
"Seriously? My dad’s deciding where I’m supposed to spend my entire vacation." Johanne crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. She had blonde hair and blue eyes and wore the fine clothes of a noble.
Ulysses, sitting comfortably and looking out the window of the carriage, tapped his fingers on the seat. Even though he knew the empire was on the brink of war with Gorathia, he didn’t entirely hate them. He understood their motives—just like Valkarion, they were trying to protect themselves. And yes, in the past, Valkarion also have taken land that helped them grow stronger. But the truth was, this time, Gorathia was a severe threat, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they might be powerful enough to tear the kingdom and the empire down.
"I think it’s better to spend your time here than locked up in your room, don’t you think?" Ulysses said, still staring out the window.
"Of course!" Johanne replied with an exaggerated, sarcastic smile. "I’m thrilled to be stuck in a carriage for two days in my 1 week vacation."
Ulysses chuckled. He knew her well enough to tell when she was joking—after all, they’d been close since childhood. But despite their closeness, he never treated her like a big sister. To him, they were equals.
"I heard you reached two stars," Ulysses said, finally turning his attention to her, his eyes filled with interest.
"Yeah, barely," Johanne replied, looking less than impressed with herself.
In the world of mages, ranks went from one to eight stars, with eight being the highest. The strongest mage ever to reach that level was Solène, a legendary figure who mysteriously vanished after the first war between two empires named The Kharran-Eborian Conflict. Only two mages had reached six stars, the highest rank still actively known. One was from the Imperium of Astria, the empire Valkarion belonged to.
In the world of Venthara, five empires is currently active: The Varyl Dominion, The Kharran Confederacy, The Eborian Empire, The Shal’Tari Empire, and The Imperium of Astria.
"Well, that’s still impressive, Johanne," Ulysses said, a smirk on his face. "I wonder though if I could ever pass eight stars."
Johanne burst out laughing. "You’re a freak, Ulysses. No one has ever surpassed eight stars. If you did, you’d be a god, way beyond any legendary mage."
"I mean, it could happen," Ulysses said with a grin, enjoying the joke.
Johanne gave his legs a playful tap as she continued to laugh. "Yeah, sure, and I’ll be the first to bow down to you when you become a god."
The carriage continued to move, travelling into the arid stretch of land—a desert-like shortcut to the Kingdom of Valkarion. Just as they were nearing the kingdom's outer borders, they were forced to halt. A group of workers had blocked the road ahead, busy repairing the pathway, leaving no room for the carriage to pass.
"Perfect timing," Johanne muttered sarcastically, glaring at the construction crew as she crossed her arms.
Ulysses, however, kept his focus outside, studying the workers and their setup. The guards dismounted, some taking a quick break while others looked at the surroundings. A knight stepped forward to speak with the workers, returning a moment later to approach the prince’s carriage. Seeing the knight approaching, Ulysses rolled down the window.
"Your Highness," the knight said with a respectful bow, "they’ve asked us to wait for five minutes."
Ulysses nodded but didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes returned to the workers. With the window still down, he observed them more closely. Five people stood before the roadblock while others worked on repairing the ground. But something caught his attention—one of the workers kept glancing at the carriage, then exchanging looks with the others.
"Ulysses, can’t you just tell them to let us through already?" Johanne asked, her patience running out as she leaned back in her seat.
Ulysses ignored her, his gaze fixed outside. The location was peculiar—a narrow, dusty road flanked by rocky hills and sparse trees. It felt secluded, almost too perfect for an ambush. He frowned, realising there hadn’t been any prior notice of road repairs. His instincts are telling him that something is off.
Still, Ulysses rolled the window back up, leaning back in his seat. His face remained calm, but his thoughts mixed, a feeling that didn’t feel right to him.
“Hey! Why are you sweating so much?” Johanne asked, laughing as she glanced at him. “Are you doin' some of your mental workout? Hahaha. Do you have a stomachache or something?” Her tone shifted to mild concern.
Ulysses ignored her, his gaze drawn back to the workers outside. He rolled the window down again, scanning the workers more closely. The guards were still resting but remained alert at their posts. His eyes locked onto one of the workers—a man holding a shovel. At first glance, the worker seemed exhausted, but something didn’t sit right. The shovel in his hands was spotless, not a speck of dirt, and the odd positioning of the roadwork felt more suspicious the longer Ulysses stared.
He waved over the knight in command, leaning out just enough to whisper. "Something isn’t right. I’m certain this is a setup.” His voice was low but firm. “This might be an ambush.”
The knight's expression tightened, though he remained outwardly composed. With a slight nod, he began discreetly focusing his attention on the workers and alerting the other guards, though their movements were careful—measured, as if not to tip anyone off.
Thump. Thump.
Johanne, watching his behaviour, started fidgeting, glancing outside nervously. “Ulysses...” she muttered, her voice trembling slightly.
“What?” he asked, glancing at her uneasily.
“I’m sensing something..someone. A mage, a high-level one.” Her hand shakily pointed outside.
The words sent a chill down Ulysses’ spine. His heart thudded harder. Thump. Thump. He looked outside again, catching the workers shifting their focus toward the carriage. The fake roadblock was being cleared now, but it wasn’t a sign of goodwill—it was a trap closing in.
The guards began escorting the carriage forward, their movements tense but orderly. The knights led the way, their hands hovering near their weapons as the workers stepped aside. The carriage rolled past the group of labourers, seemingly without incident.
But then—
Swoosh!
“Aghhhh!”
Blood splattered across the carriage window as a guard’s head flew through the air, landing with a sickening sound. Inside, Ulysses and Johanne froze, their wide eyes witnessing a horrifying scene. The lifeless body collapsed just outside, and the window was painted crimson with blood.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“AMBUSH!!!” a knight shouted.
Clang! The clash of swords rang out, faint but unmistakable from inside the carriage. Through the windows, Ulysses and Johanne could see flashes of swords and the bloodied bodies of guards.
“Protect the prince!” the knight shouted again, his voice strained as he fought off attackers.
Swoosh!
More chaos erupted as riders on horseback appeared on the hilltops, armed with axes and swords and casting spells from afar. Ulysses watched in horror as mages began launching attacks from above, bringing destruction to the guards. His heart pounded as bursts of thoughts and feelings began mixing.
He turned to Johanne, who was trembling, panic visible all over her face. He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Hey! Johanne....Hey! Come to your senses,” he said firmly while he grabbed her hand and began to check outside.
“H—how?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“This is our chance to escape!” Ulysses said, gripping her hand tightly. Without waiting for her to respond, he pushed open the carriage door, timing their exit perfectly as the immediate area was momentarily clear.
As they stepped out, it was overwhelming. Headless bodies of guards lying on the ground, blood pooling around them. For two nobles who’d never seen battle—let alone such carnage—the sight was too much to bear.
“Blaghhh!”
Both Ulysses and Johanne doubled over, vomiting at the grotesque scene they had just seen. But there was no time to wallow in shock. They had to move.
“They’re escaping!” a voice shouted, drawing the attention of nearby attackers.
BOOM!
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The ground exploded near them, chunks of dirt flying everywhere as a lightning spell struck dangerously close.
“Water Shield!” Johanne shouted, summoning her magic. A barrier of water surrounded them, deflecting the incoming attacks. The shield shimmered as it absorbed the impact of a stray arrow and debris fragments. “We.... have to... run—now!” she said, urgency lacing her words.
But their escape was cut short.
“Oi, you’re not going anywhere," A tall man with a neck tattoo leapt down from the hilltop, landing with an earth-shaking crash. His greatsword carved into the ground, sending cracks splintering through the dirt and blocking their path.
Ulysses and Johanne froze, their breaths catching as the man’s presence filled the room. The air felt heavy, crushing like it was trying to suffocate them. Behind him, the noise of battle faded—guards falling, swords going quiet—leaving only screams and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground.
“Move, and I’ll make it quick,” the man sneered, raising his greatsword.
Ulysses gritted his teeth, fear tightening its grip on him as he glanced at Johanne. Her water shield wavered, trembling under the weight of their situation. Neither of them moved. They couldn’t. They were utterly trapped, and they both knew it.
“HAHAHAHA! You’re not used to this, are you, boy?” The man with the greatsword sneered, his laugh sharp and mocking. “How about I make her head roll just for you?” he added, his tone dripping with malice.
Swish!
“Hey! Don’t even try casting some itchy-ass spell, you bitch!” he barked, slicing through the spell Johanne had desperately cast, hoping for an opening.
Ulysses just stood there, frozen. Sweat dripped from his chin, splashing onto the ground below. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Fear and helplessness clamped down on him like a vice.
He hated it.
Since childhood, he’d been hailed as a prodigy, the only one in the empire born with the rare element, the light element. But now? It was worthless. He couldn’t control it. I couldn’t even activate it. And yet, something about this moment—this suffocating fear and desperation—was stirring something inside him.
His body trembled as he clutched his left eye, a sharp, searing pain tearing through his head. “What… what the hell is this?!” he choked out.
Johanne gasped as she noticed it—a faint golden glow emanating from Ulysses’ left eye. The light grew brighter, almost blinding, but Ulysses couldn’t stop himself from doubling over in pain, his hand clamped over his face.
The greatsword-wielding man paused, his eyes widening in excitement. “Well, well! Show me what you’ve got! Hehehehe.” he shouted, his grin stretching wider.
But before Ulysses could do anything, another man—long-haired and bearded—appeared from nowhere. He moved quickly, landing a sharp strike to the pressure point on Ulysses’ neck.
Thwack!
Ulysses crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.
“Ulysses!” Johanne screamed, her voice breaking as she watched him collapse.
The long-haired man knew what it was that appeared in the eyes of Ulysses. It was a rare power that when wielded perfectly, can be a threat to an entire kingdom.
“You’re lucky those eyes didn’t fry you alive,” the long-haired man muttered, hefting Ulysses’ unconscious body over his shoulder. He glanced at the greatsword-wielding man.
“Huh? What the heck is so special about those eyes? That's just a freaking bluff after all.” the
man with a neck tattoo said, frowning.
“Single glance,” the long-haired man replied. "A single glance is all it takes to kill you." his voice was cold and matter-of-fact as he turned away.
The swordsman froze for a moment, visibly shaken by the words. “Ha… no kidding?” he muttered before glancing back at Johanne, who had collapsed to her knees.
“What about her? Want me to finish her off?”
The long-haired man didn’t even turn around. “Leave her. We’ve got what we came for. Let’s go.”
The swordsman gave Johanne one last look, his smirk fading as he saw the emptiness in her eyes. She didn’t even resist. They just sat there, watching helplessly as they disappeared, Ulysses limp in their grasp.
"You’re a lucky bitch," the man with the greatsword sneered, licking his hand with a twisted grin, his eyes wild with insanity.
As they walked away, Johanne caught the fading words of one of them, casual and cold: "That was way too easy."
The battlefield around her was a living horror—broken bodies scattered everywhere, some headless, some ripped apart, and a few barely holding on, their ragged breaths lost in the silence of the dead.
image [https://clipart-library.com/images_k/text-divider-transparent/text-divider-transparent-19.png]
Meanwhile, deep in the forest.
Icarus had been walking and running for hours, searching for the perfect trees, but all he’d found were the worst-quality ones he’d ever seen. It felt like the deeper he went, the worse they got. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. Three hours in, and he kept pushing further.
Then, he froze.
There, towering above everything else, was the tallest tree he had ever seen. But it wasn’t just one tree—the entire area was filled with pristine, otherworldly trees, their trunks and leaves glowing faintly like something out of a dream. He didn’t waste any time. Grabbing his axe, he started cutting down the best ones he could find.
Whack!
Whack!
"HAH! What a day," Icarus muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead before collapsing onto a pile of freshly cut wood.
The sun hadn’t fully set yet, but the forest was already growing darker, the shadows stretching as night began to take over. As he lay back, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, he suddenly froze.
Footsteps.
No, more than that—laughter. Voices. Men’s voices are loud and sharp.
"Is that one still unconscious?" someone asked, his tone casual.
Icarus’s curiosity got the better of him. Quietly, he crept toward the sound, his movements careful, his breath slow. The voices grew louder as he approached, but then the footsteps stopped. The men weren’t moving anymore—they had settled in one spot. The laughter, though, continued.
"What the hell does that old man want with this one?" said a man with a tattoo snaking up his neck.
"Idiot," snapped another, his long hair falling over his face. "Stop asking stupid questions and rest." He said
shutting him up immediately.
Curiosity made Icarus scan the area; then he saw the ground—someone lying on the ground, guarded by a tall, muscular man. The figure was dressed in white and gold—noble clothing, no doubt. But this wasn’t just any noble. The design was far more intricate, more regal, than anything Icarus had ever seen before.
Royalty.
The unconscious teen’s clothes told the story, but his presence out there raised more questions than answers. Icarus crouched lower, his heartbeat quickening as he tried to figure out what he’d just stumbled into.
He started piecing it together. From how they talked about their mission—something about sparking more tension between two kingdoms—it became clear. Their target wasn’t just some noble. They had kidnapped a prince. Icarus’s gaze flicked back to the unconscious teen, the ornate clothing confirming it.
That’s the prince.
It took him a moment to process. He’d never been in a situation like this before. His mind raced, unsure what to do, but before he could figure it out, one of the men broke the silence.
“Imma go take a piss,” one of them said, casually dropping his weapon.
“Hey, bring this with you,” the long-haired man barked, pointing at the weapon on the ground.
“Nah, just leave it there. I’ll be quick,” the first man replied, disappearing into the forest.
But then Icarus already have something planned.
Woosh!
“The hell was that?” the man muttered, glancing around nervously as he relieved himself.
The sound had come from deeper in the forest. Probably an animal—or so he thought. Curiosity got the better of him, and he wandered toward the noise, scanning the dark trees.
That was all Icarus needed.
When the man turned around, Icarus was already on him, his fist colliding with the guy’s face.
“Aggh—”
Icarus pinned him to the ground, his axe pressed against the man’s neck, the blade biting into the skin. “Talk. Did you kidnap that one?”
The man squirmed, trying to shout for help, but Icarus clamped a hand over his mouth. Pressing the axe harder, Icarus hissed, “Answer!”
“Y-yes!” the man stammered, his voice muffled and panicked.
Icarus’s mind raced. What do I do now? Kill him? He gritted his teeth, his hand trembling. He’d never killed anyone before, but letting this guy go wasn’t an option. His grip on the axe tightened, yet his body hesitated, the weight of the decision paralysing him.
Then, the man lunged, sinking his teeth into Icarus’s hand.
“Damn it!”
Instinct took over.
Swoosh!
The axe swung, slicing clean through the man’s neck. His body crumpled, blood pouring from his neck as his lifeless eyes stared into nothingness.
Icarus stumbled back, his entire body shaking, the axe slipping from his bloody hands. He stared at the corpse, his chest heaving, his stomach turning. Then the nausea hit.
He vomited.
It took a moment for him to recover, his mind swirling with guilt and disbelief. Was that necessary?
But he couldn’t dwell on it. Wiping his mouth, he grabbed the axe and climbed a nearby tree, settling high in the branches, out of sight. His heart pounded, and his thoughts were a mess. Is this what it feels like to kill someone? Why does it feel so wrong?
But then his mind snapped back to the prince. If the kidnapping succeeded, it wouldn’t just be the prince’s life at stake—it could bring down the entire Valkarion Kingdom, his family included.
Icarus steadied himself. I can’t let that happen. He gripped the axe tightly, his resolve hardening. Whatever it took, he wouldn’t let them get away with this.
Tu-tump.... tump....tu-tump...
"Shit," Icarus muttered, grabbing his chest, his hands full with blood. His heart pounded like a drum, each beat louder and harder. He sucked in deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.
Three minutes had passed since he’d killed the man, and no one had come looking yet. From his perch on a thick tree branch, Icarus waited silently, watching for any movement. This was his plan—wait for the next one to come, then strike.
“That bastard, did he drink a whole damn barrel of water or something?” one of the men joked, standing up and heading off to search for his missing comrade.
Tu-tump...
The man’s voice cut off mid-sentence. “That bastard rea—” He froze, his eyes locking on the lifeless body sprawled on the ground, the throat a gruesome, open wound.
Icarus didn’t wait. He leapt from the branch, bringing his axe down and splitting the man’s skull.
Swoosh! Splat!
“F—fuck,” Icarus choked, stumbling back as the nausea hit him again. He bent over, vomiting onto the ground.
Shaking, he dragged the bodies one by one, hiding them behind a large rock to keep the others from noticing. He then moved to the other side of the camp, grabbing a few branches on the way. This time, he planned to draw their attention. He crouched low, using the hand drill method to start a fire. His stomach turned when he saw blood on his hands again, the memories of it flooding back, making him gag.
“Von, go check on those idiots—they’re taking too damn long,” the long-haired, bearded man barked at one of his companions.
Icarus grit his teeth, struggling to start the fire. He’d been taught survival skills as a kid, including how to light a fire, but his trembling hands refused to cooperate. “Damn it,” he hissed under his breath. Finally, a small flame caught, and he carefully placed it near dry leaves and branches, coaxing the fire to spread toward the bushes near the group.
“There’s blood here!” one of the men shouted, his voice cutting through the night.
The others turned toward him, but their attention was quickly diverted by the growing flames nearby.
“What the hell’s going on?!” the man with the neck tattoo yelled, grabbing his greatsword.
“Check the others!” the long-haired man shouted, pointing at another subordinate.
There were six of them left now, scattered as the chaos started. Icarus saw his chance. With the group distracted—some investigating the blood, others scrambling to contain the fire—he can take the prince and run.
“This is why we shouldn’t have split from those mages earlier,” the tattooed man growled.
“Shut up and focus!” the long-haired man snapped. “I may be wrong, but then ready your senses. Someone is messing with us right now.”