Pain, suffering, and hopelessness intertwined. They were the very forces that fueled Javier's will, fortified by his anger. Yet, even the mightiest of wills can find themselves compelled to yield. Javier had lost all sense of time since he embarked on this unyielding resistance, and even if he had an inkling, he doubted it would hold any significance to him at present. His thoughts were consumed by a singular repetition of words, echoing endlessly in his mind.
Once he embarked on his arduous journey, Javier soon realized that this entity, whether it be light or something else entirely, was not a foe he could conquer. Ultimately, he was just a mere mortal with his own limits. So why did he continue to defy it? The answer was simple: while the light may have appeared invincible, its reign would not endure forever. Its pull was weakening, gradually losing its grip, and inevitably, he would withdraw his hands from this realm of darkness. It was as if its purpose in arriving here was to swiftly overcome this ordeal and move on to the next. And it was precisely this realization that stoked Javier's ambition, igniting a fiery determination within him.
He had to persevere until the light faded completely, yet therein lay the challenge—he remained uncertain of his ability to succeed.
As each passing second slipped away, Javier's mind crumbled, while the light was devoured by the encroaching darkness. The majestic brilliance that once surpassed the boundaries of his sight had now dwindled to a mere speck, no larger than a football. "Just a little more!" With full awareness of the situation, Javier risked the remnants of his crumbling mind in this final act of resistance. It was a decisive moment—a stark choice between triumph or oblivion, a choice he had made long ago. He had embarked upon an irreversible path, a path unknown. The light, now reduced to a minuscule pinprick, could no longer maintain its foothold in this realm and vanished, leaving nothingness in its wake.
Javier, his mortal mind teetering on the precipice of the abyss, lost consciousness without a chance to savor his hard-fought victory. His very presence in this moment was a testament to his endurance, a miracle in itself.
However, what he didn't foresee was the weight of countless curses he would heap upon this day, a burden that would haunt him for eternity...
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"Where am I?" Javier pondered with curiosity as his consciousness returned in another realm of darkness. In contrast to the earlier cold and harsh nothingness, he felt a deep difference, a sharp opposition, within this place.
If he were to encapsulate it in words, "warmth and comfort" would aptly describe this place. Although he remained oblivious to its nature, he found no reason to lament his circumstances. A peculiar, yet strangely tranquil slumber draped over him, persistently burdening his mind. It was an irresistible sleep, and he made no effort to resist.
Granting permission for his awareness to recede, he descended once more into a profound slumber, sinking deeper into its enigmatic embrace...
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Afterward, there were moments when his consciousness would sporadically return to him. However, once he confirmed that nothing had changed in his situation, he would eventually slip back into sleep, embracing another realm of slumber. As this pattern persisted, he began to perceive faint sounds. He made a few attempts to listen, but quickly deemed the voices meaningless and not worth his effort. Perhaps his constant drowsiness played a part in this, yet ultimately, it was his lack of interest that prevailed.
And so, he drifted off to sleep once more waiting for something inordinary to happen…
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Meanwhile, in another world, a distant realm, the sun began its gradual ascent from the east, casting a soft glow on the horizon. The first rays of morning light filtered through the interlaced foliage of the trees, dancing playfully upon the vibrant green blades of grass below, imbuing them with a golden hue. In the untamed wilderness, the creatures of the land stirred from their slumber, venturing out from their sanctuaries, propelled by the primal instinct to satiate their hunger. The nascent leaves unfurling on the trees served as heralds, announcing the passing of winter and the advent of spring. Beneath the shade of a majestic tree, a herd of deer sought sustenance, their grazing interrupted only by fleeting moments of curiosity. Unbeknownst to them, the nocturnal predators had receded into the shadows, granting them a reprieve, albeit fleetingly, blissfully ignorant in their limited cognitive faculties.
Yet, a mere twenty-five meters away, concealed by nature's tapestry, a lone figure stood with bated breath, exhaling silently so as not to betray his presence. In his hands, a taut bowstring stretched to its limits, attesting to his seasoned prowess as a hunter. His patient vigil had endured, a testament to his seasoned skill. Amidst the symphony of the wilderness, an arrow nestled in the bow aimed unerringly at the heart of a female deer amidst the herd, the hunter's unwavering focus locked onto his quarry. Though imperceptible to the naked eye, the arrow quivered ever so slightly with each heartbeat and breath, a delicate dance of anticipation.
Abruptly, the hunter ceased all respiration, freezing in perfect stillness. The arrow found respite, its oscillation silenced. All faculties converged upon the imminent moment, honed to perfection. With a surge of confidence, he relinquished his grip on the bowstring. The arrow, propelled by unseen forces, cleaved through the air like a whisper, traversing the distance in a fleeting instant. It found its mark, piercing the very core of the female deer's being, an embodiment of consummate accuracy. As if summoned by an arcane signal, the herd erupted into a frenzy, scattering in every direction, leaving the fallen doe to her fate. She struggled to mimic their flight, propelled by sheer instinct, but her valiant efforts were short-lived. After a few faltering steps, she succumbed to gravity, surrendering to the earth below.
In her final moments, as life ebbed away, the fading gaze of the doe bore witness to a figure emerging stealthily from the concealment of foliage.
As the hunter approached, he found the deer had already passed away, a testament to the success of his shot. To confirm its fate, he calmly re-sheathed the knife he kept at hand, knowing it was no longer needed. Carefully removing the arrow from the creature's flesh, he skillfully bound its legs with a rope, making transportation easier. This was a craft he had honed over time, with the knowledge of tying various knots ingrained through genuine experience. Once the deer was securely fastened in a manner that wouldn't easily come undone, he effortlessly hoisted the animal onto his back. Turning his back to the ascending sun, he set off towards the west, venturing away from the wilderness.
After walking for a while, the density of trees began to thin, revealing glimpses of smoke rising from a place not too far away. As he continued past a few more trees, the origin of the smoke became clear. Nestled in the heart of the forest, a village had been established, its chimneys emitting smoke that signaled the presence of life in this humble settlement. The majority of the houses boasted a charming medieval architecture, constructed primarily from the abundant local wood. While a few homes incorporated stone, these were mostly found near the village square and seemed to belong to more affluent families. The haphazard arrangement of the houses indicated a lack of urban planning, resulting in a somewhat disordered appearance. Nevertheless, this seemed inconsequential to the inhabitants who had chosen to settle here. Although the village possessed roads, they did not span its entirety. The central area featured a stone-paved path that gradually transitioned into a rustic dirt road as it extended further away. It was precisely along this earthy path that our hunter was making his way towards a quaint single-story cottage-like dwelling.
The worn wooden panels that composed the building stood with a humble elegance. Enduring diverse weather conditions, the roof, adorned with a blend of straw and moss, evoked a rustic and earthy aesthetic. A single wooden door, embellished with decorative metal hinges, served as the entrance, proudly displaying the playful excavations created by mischievous village children. Despite these traces of youthful exuberance, the structure maintained a harmonious and dignified presence.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The hunter, gently resting the deer he had captured against the side of the door, unlocked it and stepped into the house, greeted by a compact yet thoughtfully designed space. This was the house's welcoming lounge, adorned with narrow windows fitted with leaded glass panels, allowing soft beams of subdued light to filter in, casting an ethereal glow from one end to the other. A small hearth, connected to a chimney, graced the floor, while a meticulously crafted rug made from the hide of a prized animal lay beneath, exuding a sense of luxury. It was evident that this rug had been procured by the hunter's own skilled hands. Disrupting the rectangular structure of the lounge, a slight alcove housed the kitchen, where an assortment of culinary tools hung gracefully. The spacious lounge has three inviting doors that lead to three separate rooms. Two of these entrances reveal comfortable sleeping quarters, while the third provides access to the bathroom. A secret basement, a vast storage space functioning as a pantry, meticulously built to preserve food and needs, may be accessed by a trap door hidden under the elegant rug in the living room.
As the hunter carefully set his bow aside, a plaintive moan accompanied by a woman's voice calling out her name echoed from the section where the grand bedroom resided. In an instant, the hunter rushed towards the bedroom door, urgency propelling his every step. With a swift motion, he flung the door open, revealing a sight that stirred his heart. There, upon a spacious double bed, lay a woman, her face etched with a mixture of profound pain and determination. Each breath she took was deep and rapid, contorting her features in agony. The intensity of her ordeal had caused her body to drench the bed beneath her in perspiration, bearing witness to her struggle. It was not a mere injury or physical strain that inflicted this pain upon her; the woman was in the throes of labor, bringing new life into the world. From all indications, it seemed that today was the fateful day.
As the hunter grasped the gravity of the situation, his heart pounded in his chest. He urgently spoke a few words to the woman, then dashed outside, where he caught hold of a young child passing by on the street. The child clutched a small sickle, likely assisting their family on the farm and wandering about in their free time.
With a commanding tone, the hunter issued an order. "Krishaan rynna dorivak tafo!" The moment the child heard these foreign words, his drowsy eyes widened, and swiftly flung the sickle aside, sprinting as fast as his little legs would carry him towards a specific direction. Without wasting a second, the hunter returned to his wife's side, gripping her hands tightly, murmuring comforting words, and stealing glances at the door with growing anxiety.
Approximately two minutes later, the same child arrived at the front of the house, accompanied by three middle-aged women. Engaging in a hushed conversation, the child gestured towards the house. Acting swiftly, the trio entered through the already open door and located the room where the hunter knelt beside the bed. With practiced coordination, they arranged the buckets, cloths, and various tools they had brought, preparing for the imminent task at hand. Sensing the need for a calmer environment, they respectfully requested the hunter to momentarily vacate the room, assuring him that they would take utmost care of his wife.
Reluctantly, the hunter stepped out, his heart heavy with anticipation and hope. He waited anxiously, his gaze fixated on the closed door, as the skilled hands and comforting words of the women within guided his wife through the transformative journey of childbirth.
As the hunter's palms sweated with a mix of anxiety and excitement, he began to pace outside the closed door, waiting patiently. The woman's agonizing groans and deep breaths, intermingled with the chatter of the women surrounding her, echoed through the wooden door, reverberating throughout the entire house. With each passing second, the man's concern escalated, causing him to trace anxious circles, his anticipation mounting.
Twenty-five minutes had elapsed, and all sounds suddenly ceased. As the man strained to hear any sign of progress behind the door, his mind flirted with the worst possible scenarios, and his heart felt as though it might cease beating altogether. Just then, the piercing cries of a newborn baby filled the air, permeating every corner of the house.
A few seconds later, one of the women, wearing a cheerful smile, swung open the door, granting the man entry. With a mixture of relief and anticipation, he stepped into the room. His wife, who had previously contorted her face in pain, now beamed as she gazed at the baby's half-closed eyes. Overwhelmed with emotion, the man took a deep breath and, with deliberate and measured steps, approached the side of the bed. Each stride felt burdened, as if carrying the weight of worlds upon his shoulders.
Standing beside the bed, he leaned in and locked eyes with his wife, momentarily breaking their gaze only to reach out and cradle the precious bundle in his weathered hands. It was a delicate exchange, as if he were embracing a fragile butterfly. The ruggedness of his calloused hands juxtaposed against the tender embrace he offered the newborn.
As he held the tiny life in his arms, he delicately pressed his head against the baby's ear, whispering with a resolute voice, "Kaian." Though he had uttered those words countless times within the depths of his own thoughts, this was the first time he reverberated audibly, punctuating the sacredness of the moment.
Yet, little did they know that this marked Javier McCalin's— or rather, the name he gained in this realm, Kaian—first return to this world.
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Meanwihle in a far away and distant land, nestled atop the peak of a mountain so remote that scarcely any human could reach it with ease, there stood a temple of exquisite craftsmanship. Its rounded structure, like no other, paid homage to the rising sun with an air of majesty that no ruler could dare to envision conquering. The temple's pristine white walls were adorned with intricate golden inscriptions and ornate embellishments, imbuing the surroundings with a palpable sense of sanctity and reverence.
Descending from the temple, a vast cascade of tens of thousands of steps unfurled, intriguing any who caught sight of this remarkable place, arousing curiosity as to why such a magnificent temple had been erected in a location seemingly devoid of visitors. Along the periphery of the colossal structure stood a mere twelve sentinels, crafted by the most skilled artisans known to this world. Clad in armor and armed with weaponry that harmonized seamlessly with the temple's grandeur, they remained so motionless and statuesque that only when one approached them closely could they discern their true human nature. They emitted no sound, drew no breath, and exhibited no heartbeat, almost akin to animated suits of armor devoid of life.
Atop the temple's summit, an oval aperture opened up, offering a celestial vista of the heavens and permitting the entrance of radiant sunbeams. Yet, even more astonishing was the mesmerizing sight of billions of luminous threads of white energy, enchantingly swirling in intricate patterns within the temple's sacred confines. Each passing second, a new thread would materialize, undergo metamorphosis, and fade away, perpetually cycling through an eternal dance of creation and dissolution. This enigmatic cycle possessed an age at least as ancient as the mountain upon which the temple had been erected.
Beneath the ceaseless circulation of energy, in stark contrast to the temple's hues, lay a circular floor enveloped in absolute darkness. Its surface, entirely adorned with a symbol crafted from purest gold, bore an intricate design reminiscent of an hourglass. The lines of this monumental hourglass were etched with ancient runic inscriptions, intelligible only to a select few in this realm.
At the very heart of this arrangement, a nun knelt in perfect harmony, donning a garment adorned with ornate gold accents, blending the contrasting elements of white and black. Her eyes, concealed beneath a veil of deepest black, portrayed an otherworldly trance as she delicately cradled a pendant that hung from her neck, her hands trembling with an ethereal aura. Within this sacred realm, she alone held sway.
As if this tranquil and hallowed order had endured since the dawn of time and would persist for all eternity, it appeared immutable.
However, fate had different plans...
The ever-moving threads of energy, in constant motion, first quivered, then began to disperse erratically. Meanwhile, the nun below emitted pained cries, her blood cascading unrestrained from her nostrils, staining her quivering hands in a torrent beyond control.
The ancient cycle, unraveling in disarray, saw select threads beginning to break free, colliding with the immaculate white walls of the temple and unleashing small yet potent bursts of magic, which marred the seemingly invincible surface, leaving behind cracks as scars. And all it took was a single spark to further exacerbate the situation...
Unfettered, each liberated thread of energy careened wildly, wreaking further havoc upon the sacred sanctuary. The once meticulously maintained ancient cycle now spiraled into unbridled chaos.
*BOOM!*
Unable to bear its own existence any longer, this enigmatic and colossal structure finally succumbed, unleashing a cataclysmic explosion that released all the pent-up energy in a magnificent burst, hurtling each thread into disarray. The tremendous force of the detonation dislodged hundreds of massive boulders from the oval aperture above, sending them hurtling towards the temple's pristine white floor, shattering with thunderous reverberations while creating a dust cloud covering the sky from being seen.
At the sound, the guardians swiftly surged inward like a tempest, converging upon the fallen nun, their presence akin to a rushing wind.
As they carefully lifted the fallen nun from amidst the wreckage, one particular guardian stepped forward, their presence commanding attention.
"What happened here, High Priest?" The guardian's gaze swept across the devastation that surrounded them, his voice firm yet tinged with an insatiable curiosity.
Struggling to regain her footing, the nun raised a trembling hand, still stained with her own blood, and weakly gestured toward the dissipating clouds of dust above.
"T-The threads of destiny... th-they are destroyed!" The nun's voice quivered with fear as she replied.
Upon hearing her words, every gaze turned upward, and a collective gasp escaped their lips as they beheld the absence of that ancient and familiar structure amidst the settling dust. In that moment, the realization dawned upon them that the fate of this realm had been irrevocably cast into the depths of uncertainty, sending a chilling wave of dread through their eyes and hearts.
The unknown before them was engulfing their entire existence, as if being gripped by an icy talon...
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