Year 733

I have reached the first milestone of my journey: becoming a threat to the powerful. This does not please them, those who lurk in the shadows, using misery and hatred to manipulate the masses.

In truth, I understand them. If I were like them, a scoundrel profiting from others' suffering and desolation to build my empire, I would be pissed off too seeing a subversive defending ideals contrary to mine, especially if that person threatened the stability I had achieved.

So yes, I had to make some sacrifices to get here. At the beginning of this year, I turned sixteen, and the day after my birthday, I left home for the second time.

The first time wasn't really a choice; I was betrayed and went through hell during a part of my childhood. By the age of seven, I understood that the world could not be all joy and peace. Even though I was perhaps too young for such a revelation, I know I needed to go through that to determine the course of my life.

Today, alongside individuals I value more than my own life, I have founded a group that makes the world tremble. They fight beside me not only for my dream but also for theirs.

And today, we are once again going to assert our existence to this rotten world, eager to be reshaped.

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Novea, the Continent of Warriors

Novea was plunged into a dark, oppressive night. Here, strength and courage were more valuable than gold, and every inhabitant was trained from a young age in the art of war. Yet tonight, even the bravest felt the weight of uncertainty.

The battlefield stretched before them, a vast expanse of torn earth and shattered rocks. The soldiers' armor gleamed faintly under the cold moonlight, and the rustling wind through the barren trees added a sinister note to the already heavy atmosphere. The soldiers, grouped in tight formations, tried to warm themselves around scattered campfires, their faces marked by fatigue and anxiety.

Murmurs ran through the ranks, conversations broken by nervousness. Eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the shadow of the enemy seemed to thicken. No one knew exactly what awaited them at dawn, and this ignorance sowed doubt in the hearts of the bravest. Rumors spread of monstrous creatures with nightmarish appearances, half-human, half-animal, emerging from all corners of the globe. Among them, a giant magma elephant, incandescent, capable of turning everything in its path to ashes; a lightning crow, its wings crackling with electricity, ready to cleave the sky with terrifying speed; a luminous jellyfish, spectral and dazzling, its tentacles burning like solar rays; an ice lynx, whose icy breath could freeze blood in the veins; a crystal stag, majestic yet sharp as glass, capable of shredding flesh with its sparkling antlers; and finally, the most mysterious and feared, a sand fox, surrounded by an aura of unknown terror, its eyes gleaming with malice and cruelty.

The soldiers gathered around the campfires, exchanging anxious glances and fearful whispers.

"Do you really think we'll face those monsters?" one asked, eyes wide with fear.

"The Soulkeepers... They're not just legends. I've heard they can destroy entire countries in a matter of hours," another replied, his voice trembling.

"But how can we fight against that?" a third soldier intervened, his hands shaking slightly. "A magma elephant? Are we supposed to douse it with water?"

The captain, a veteran with a stern look and piercing gaze, tried to maintain order and reassure his troops. He walked among them, offering words of encouragement and precise orders. But even he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes. The tension was palpable, and every movement, every sound seemed to amplify the collective anxiety.

"Listen to me," he said in a strong, assured voice. "We've all heard the rumors, but we are warriors of Novea. We've been trained to face the unimaginable. Stay focused, follow orders, and we will prevail."

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A tense silence followed his words, only broken by persistent whispers.

"And if we don't make it? What if these creatures are really invincible?" a young soldier, barely more than an adolescent, whispered.

A veteran near him placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We don't know what we're facing, but together, we're stronger. We have to believe in our training and our comrades."

The campfire flames flickered, casting trembling glows on the soldiers' weary faces. The biting cold intensified, and the night's silence was only disturbed by the crackling of logs and anxious murmurs. The soldiers tightened their coats around them, trying to shield themselves from the icy wind blowing through the ruins.

Suddenly, the war drums resonated, making the ground beneath their feet vibrate. Rallying cries rose, tearing through the veil of silence. The soldiers formed up, ready to face what was coming. But what they saw froze them in terror.

Six silhouettes appeared on the horizon, walking steadily towards the battlefield. They were masked and cloaked in dark hoods. The tallest wore an elephant mask, his eyes invisible in the shadow of the mask. Beside him, two smaller figures wore stag and crow masks. Behind them, two others, slightly taller, wore jellyfish and lynx masks. And at the center, dominating with his presence, wearing a fennec mask, his eyes hidden in the darkness, revealing only the lower part of his face. That person was me.

I stood there, at the center of my companions, observing the soldiers of Novea. Their fear was almost palpable. I let the silence settle, savoring the effect of our appearance. Then, in a voice full of authority, I addressed them:

"Warriors of Novea, you stand before the Soulkeepers. Lay down your arms now, or there will be nothing left of you but wandering souls in eternity."

The words echoed like a thunderclap. The soldiers, paralyzed by fear, exchanged hesitant glances. The threat was clear, and the aura of these masked beings left no doubt about our power.

The soldiers of Novea, terrified but determined, stared at the six masked figures. Despite the warning, some soldiers, their fear turning into anger, raised their weapons, ready to fight.

"For Novea!" one of them shouted, his voice trembling with a mix of bravery and despair.

The others followed, brandishing their weapons and preparing to charge. My companions moved to intervene, but I raised a hand, signaling them to stay back.

"Do not move," I said calmly, my voice cutting through the air like a blade.

I advanced alone, my eyes gleaming, hidden by the darkness of my mask. They sparkled like shattered mirrors, reflecting the terror on my opponents' faces. The soldiers hesitated upon seeing this strange light, but their surge of bravery pushed them to continue.

"Mystic Arsenal: Sylph's Merciless Vortex!" I declared, my voice low but audible.

A breeze suddenly rose, transforming into a violent storm. The howling winds tore the weapons from the soldiers' hands, throwing them to the ground with relentless force. The soldiers wavered, struggling to maintain their balance.

I drew my twin curved swords with double tips. I moved with deadly grace, blending swordplay and dance into a choreography of destruction.

"Blink," I said softly.

In the blink of an eye, I vanished from my position to reappear right in front of a soldier. Before he could react, my swords sliced through the air with deadly precision, cutting him down in an instant.

"Mystic Arsenal: Jann's Titanic Strike."

The ground trembled beneath my feet, fissures rapidly forming. Pillars of stone erupted from the earth, striking the soldiers and hurling them backward.

A group of soldiers tried to regroup and retaliate, but before they could make a move, I whispered again: "Blink."

I continued to advance, my swords shining in the flickering light, each strike landing with surgical precision. The soldiers desperately tried to defend themselves, but I teleported continuously among them.

"Blink," I repeated, reappearing behind a group of soldiers and cutting them down before they could turn around.

I reappeared above them, my arms raised to the sky. "Mystic Arsenal: Sylph's Unleashed Tornado."

A miniature tornado formed around me, sweeping the soldiers away with devastating force. They were thrown in all directions, their cries lost in the howling winds.

The captain tried to rally his troops, but he was interrupted by a stone pillar erupting from the ground right in front of him. He stepped back, his eyes filled with terror.

"You were warned," I said, my voice calm and unwavering. "Mystic Arsenal: Jann's Apocalyptic Earthquake."

The ground beneath the soldiers' feet turned into a shifting, unstable mass, devastating tremors shaking the battlefield. Gaping fissures opened, swallowing men and equipment into a bottomless chasm.

"Mirror Eye," I murmured, my eyes glowing with a supernatural light.

I saw everything, every movement, every detail. The soldiers had no chance. In two minutes, the battlefield had become a tableau of desolation, the bodies of over 8000 soldiers lying broken and defeated.

The remaining soldiers, horrified by what they had witnessed, fled, abandoning their weapons and honor. They ran for their lives, their minds forever scarred by the vision of my mask.

I turned to my companions, who watched the scene in silence, impressed and respectful.

"It's over," I said simply, the light in my eyes fading.