Eight Years Later…

The red glow of the evening sun poured through the open windows of a large chamber, casting long, golden beams across the room.

A middle-aged man with streaks of white threading his chiseled beard sat behind one of several large desks arranged in a concentric pattern. His sharp brows were furrowed in thought as he pored over a document, a compilation of papers that appeared to be a detailed record of some kind.

The chamber was otherwise empty, the silence amplifying the rustle of parchment as he turned a page. Suddenly, the quiet was broken by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” the man called, his voice deep and resonant.

The door opened, and another figure stepped inside, a slightly younger man, also in his middle years. He strode forward confidently, pausing to bow respectfully.

“Greetings, Elder Yushan,” he said.

Elder Yushan lifted his gaze briefly from the document, his piercing eyes landing on the visitor.

“Hmm… Head Examiner,” he began, his voice measured, “I just reviewed your report on the new candidates for recruitment. The numbers are notably higher than last year.”

The Head Examiner nodded. “Yes, Elder. We have seen significant growth this cycle.”

Elder Yushan’s lips curved slightly, a hint of approval in his expression. “Good. This shows we are moving in the right direction. Are there any candidates of particular interest this year?”

The Head Examiner hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. “Among the one hundred and fifty-three candidates set to undergo testing tomorrow, there are indeed a few who stand out based on their profiles and backgrounds. Most are at the first stage, as expected, but several have already reached the second stage, and one has even attained the third stage.”

Elder Yushan raised an eyebrow. “The third stage? At such a young age? That is rare indeed. Whoever this candidate is must have significant potential, and, no doubt, the backing of some powerful faction within the sect.”

The Head Examiner inclined his head in agreement. “Your assessment is correct, Elder.”

“Is that all?” Elder Yushan prompted, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

“Well… not entirely.” The Head Examiner hesitated again, a trace of unease crossing his features. “There is one particular case I find… peculiar. A candidate who seems completely unremarkable, yet has drawn an unusual amount of attention. I’ve received several inquiries about him, but despite my efforts, his profile reveals nothing extraordinary.”

“Mm? Is that so?” Elder Yushan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his interest clearly piqued. “What stage is this candidate at?”

“Just the first stage,” the Head Examiner replied. “His talent assessment results were abysmally low, far below average, in fact. It would be surprising if he even managed to pass the recruitment tests. And yet, the attention he’s garnered is… curious.”

Elder Yushan leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. “Interesting. Does he possess an innate ability or perhaps a divine gift?”

The Head Examiner nodded slowly. “He does, though it’s an unusual one. From the reports, it appears he has awakened a divine ability, a grimoire of some sort. But, strangely enough, the grimoire seems entirely useless. It grants him no discernible advantage or talent. It’s... puzzling.”

Elder Yushan’s interest deepened. “What is his name and background?”

“Renly Ashwood,” the Head Examiner replied. “He’s from a small city within this southern part.”

At the mention of the name, Elder Yushan’s expression shifted. His fingers tapped lightly on the desk as if searching his memory. “Renly Ashwood,” he murmured, as though the name stirred a faint recollection.

After a moment, he reached beneath his desk and retrieved a small jade token, its surface smooth and green with an iridescent sheen. Running his fingers over it, he activated the device, which glowed faintly in response.

For a moment, he sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the token. Then, his eyes widened slightly, a look of understanding, and perhaps surprise, dawning on his face.

“Oh…” he said softly, almost to himself. “You are quite mistaken, Head Examiner. This child is far from ordinary.”

The Head Examiner blinked, startled. “What do you mean, Elder Yushan?”

A faint smile touched the elder’s lips, though his tone grew serious. “I mean precisely what I said. This boy is not as simple as he seems.”

Seeing the Head Examiner’s puzzled expression, Elder Yushan added, “Surely you’ve heard of the incident that occurred eight years ago?”

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The Head Examiner frowned slightly. “You’ll have to be more specific, Elder. Many events occur every year…”

“I’m speaking of the catastrophe in Ancolf,” Elder Yushan interrupted, his tone sharp. “The most devastating incident in centuries. You must remember it, the one that obliterated the entire city.”

Hearing the Elder’s words, the Head Examiner froze, his expression shifting as the weight of the revelation sank in. His eyes widened, and a small gasp escaped his lips. “You mean…?” His voice trailed off into silence.

“Yes,” the Elder replied gravely. “It is just as I’ve said. You should already know this, Head Examiner, the catastrophe you’re thinking of, the one that obliterated Ancolf… that same event also led to the death of the Sun’s Flame High God.”

The Head Examiner’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He nodded in stunned silence, not daring to interrupt. Elder Yushan continued, his gaze was distant as though recalling a long-buried memory.

“I heard there were survivors of that incident,” the Elder went on. “In fact, two survivors. Strangely enough, they both turned out to be orphans from the same foster home. And the boy you mentioned, the one who awakened a divine ability, that so-called useless book, is one of them.”

A look of realization dawned on the Head Examiner’s face. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, trickling slowly as the Elder let out a soft, cackling chuckle.

“I always wondered,” Elder Yushan mused, “why the upper echelons issued that peculiar order this year, to instruct the officiating examiners not to intervene in any rescue operations during the assessment. Those damn nobles of the Empire… Isn’t it strange for them to meddle in matters concerning our sect? It baffled me at first. But now, it’s all starting to make sense.”

The Elder leaned forward slightly, his tone turning sharper. “Even if the book this boy awakened appears useless, as you said, it is still a relic, a divine artifact. And it wasn’t just any ordinary divine creation. According to the reports, that book was born from the clash of wills between the two godly entities. No one knows exactly how it happened, but it should be a fragment of their combined power.”

He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to settle before continuing.

“From the Empire’s investigations, we know that the divine entity capable of killing the Sun’s Flame High God was an indescribably powerful black dragon. The Empire’s magical surveillance devices managed to recreate fragments of the incident. It’s said that this dragon devoured the Sun’s Flame High God, completely, leaving nothing behind but a single finger.”

The Elder’s voice dropped to a whisper, his expression darkening with caution. The Head Examiner listened in stunned silence, his eyes widening in pure disbelief as the Elder continued.

“This is exactly how the report came to me,” Elder Yushan said solemnly. “And it’s no wonder that such a relic, even one as strange as this book, would attract the Empire’s attention. After the catastrophe, many top sects, organizations, and even the Empire itself were eager to claim the boy, hoping to raise him under their banners. To survive an event of that magnitude, one that annihilated an entire city, marked him as someone with an extraordinary fate. They believed he was destined for greatness.”

The Elder’s gaze grew distant. “But all those hopes faded as the years passed. The book revealed no powers, no secrets, and the boy himself showed no exceptional talent. Even so…”

He chuckled softly. “The nobles… they haven’t forgotten. No one would overlook an artifact born from the clash of divine wills. Even if it seems useless now, who’s to say what it might become in the future? But alas, the book is bound to the boy, branded to his very soul. It cannot be taken by force, not while he lives. I’d wager some of those nobles are wishing for his death as we speak.”

The Elder sighed, shaking his head as if brushing off the gravity of his words. “And now this boy, Renly Ashwood, has chosen to take part in the assessment. A curious choice, wouldn’t you say?”

He exhaled deeply, letting the weight of the discussion dissipate. “Well, enough of this. Is that all for the report?” Elder Yushan’s gaze shifted back to the Head Examiner.

The Head Examiner, his face pale and etched with disbelief, stammered out a reply. “Y-yes, Elder. That is all.”

“Very well,” the Elder said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You may leave.”

The Head Examiner bowed quickly and began to turn toward the door, but as he reached the threshold, the Elder’s low voice followed him.

“Oh, and one more thing, treat everything I have just told you as though you never heard it. These words were never spoken. Do I make myself clear?”

The Head Examiner nodded quickly, his face ashen. “Yes, Elder. Understood.” Without another word, he exited the chamber.

–––

Within Syr Ranel, the bustling capital city of the southern region of the Valaryn continent, the sun's warm glow had began to shift as night approached. In a quiet, unassuming corner of the city stood a cluster of modest buildings, their plain exteriors reflecting the simplicity of life in this part of town.

Inside one of these houses, a small room was dimly lit by the faint, slanted rays of sunlight streaming through a lone window. Sitting at a worn wooden table was a young man, Renly Ashwood. He leaned over the table, his posture tense, one hand resting on a small book with a thick, red, and intricately decorated cover.

The book, though old and slightly worn, held an undeniable aura of mystery. Its edges were meticulously crafted, and faint inscriptions adorned its cover, details that, while subtle, imbued it with an air of something extraordinary. Yet for all its intriguing design, Renly knew the truth.

It was utterly useless.

A deep frown creased his face as he flipped through the book’s pages, frustration etched into every movement. He sighed heavily, muttering to himself.

“What am I supposed to do? Eight years. Eight years since that day, and no matter how hard I try, this book has given me nothing. Nothing.”

His voice carried a bitterness that filled the small room. “Why can’t I be like the others? Why can’t I gain some divine power that’s actually useful? How many times have I read this stupid book? Over and over, every single page, and yet all it contains is some record of what happened that day. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Renly’s fist tightened, trembling slightly as his frustration mounted.

“This is my last chance. Tomorrow is the assessment, and if I fail to get into the Crimson Moon Sect…” He trailed off, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m done for. Completely done for. I’m barely surviving as it is.”

He sighed again, his eyes clouding with a deeper sorrow. “It wouldn’t matter so much if it was just me, but… Sister Lyra…” His voice faltered, and his gaze dropped. “It’s my fault she’s like this. Crippled. I can’t remember everything that happened that day, but I do remember pushing her into that portal. She broke her legs in the fall, and her health has never recovered. Although she says it's not my fault, I can't help but blame myself whenever I think of it.”

He clenched his jaw, the weight of guilt pressing down on him. “I have to make it. I need to forge a path as a warrior. It’s the only way I can pay for her treatment.”

Renly took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. “I can’t give up now. One more time.” He flipped to a specific page near the back of the book, his eyes scanning a particular passage:

[The Sun’s Flame High God’s eye quivered. ‘How can you use my divine ability?]

[The Supreme Dragon God of Annihilation smiled. This is my innate power, the Eye of Absolute Perception.]

[All things are connected, born from a single origin, and thus, all things may be acquired.]

Renly paused, his eyes lingering on the poetic phrase. “All things are connected… born from a single origin…” he muttered softly. “If only I had such a power, the power to perceive and acquire anything.”

Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair, the weight of the words settling over him. Slowly, he flipped further into the book, landing on the final blank page. Attached to the inside of the cover was a peculiar pen. Its transparent body was tipped with a sharp, red point.

Renly didn’t hesitate. He took the pen and stabbed it into his arm with practiced precision, the act so familiar it no longer fazed him. The pen immediately absorbed the blood that flowed, its clear casing filling with a deep crimson hue until it was saturated.

Holding the blood-filled pen, Renly turned to the blank page and began to write:

[I want the power of Absolute Perception, the power used by the Supreme Dragon God of Annihilation to mimic the Sun’s Flame High God.]

As the words settled onto the page, they glowed faintly before fading into nothingness. Renly sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Just like before,” he muttered bitterly. “Nothing works.”

A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but then a sudden thought struck him like lightning. His eyes widened. “Wait…” he whispered. “This book is written like a story, a record of that day. But if the Empire’s officials were right and this is truly what happened, what if I write my own story?"

The idea sent a jolt of energy through him. Without hesitation, Renly stabbed his arm again, refilling the pen with fresh blood. He turned to the blank page and began to write:

[Renly Ashwood, a boy who survived the catastrophic battle between the Supreme Dragon God of Annihilation and the Sun’s Flame High God, participated in the annual assessment to join the Crimson Moon Sect. During the assessment, in a moment of deadly crisis, he mysteriously gained the power of Absolute Perception, once wielded by the Supreme Dragon God of Annihilation.]

The moment he finished writing, Renly froze, waiting for the inevitable. To his utter astonishment, the words remained on the page. They didn’t fade, didn’t vanish like before.

His eyes

widened, his breath catching in his throat. “It… worked?”

For the first time in eight long years, a glimmer of hope flickered in Renly’s eyes.