Ashvenmoor, a world of wonder and terror combined. Ruled by powerful gods who govern the delicate balance of existence. They weave peace into the fabric of the world, empower the races with gifts of magic and strength, and create champions whose ambitions often lead them to seek power beyond their grasp. Each god holds dominion over their own realm, their strength unshakable and absolute in their sphere. Yet none can rival the might of he who has no name. The first. The creator. The father of all gods in the High Realm. His presence looms above all, a silent force of creation and destruction.

But even in the sanctity of the High Realm, where divine power is absolute, a shadow stirs—a harbinger of chaos that whispers of rebellion and ruin. The gods, mighty as they are, are not invincible, and the peace they have forged teeters on the edge of collapse.

But that's a story for another day. Let’s descend to Ashvenmoor, to a random area on the outskirts of the human continent Velmerys.

From the heavens, a piercing light blazed across the sky, cutting through the clouds like a burning blade. It streaked down with an otherworldly speed, igniting the air around it. A deafening roar followed, the sound building in intensity as it neared the earth, and then—

[ BOOM! ]

The impact was cataclysmic. A monstrous shockwave erupted, blasting outward in every direction with unimaginable force. Trees splintered into shrapnel, rocks were vaporized into dust, and the earth itself cracked and buckled under the strain. A roaring inferno rose from the epicenter, consuming everything in its wake as the ground quaked violently, throwing debris high into the atmosphere.

The sheer force annihilated everything within a 100-kilometer radius, leaving behind a barren wasteland. The once-lush terrain had been reduced to scorched, smoldering earth, a desolate scar on the world of Ashvenmoor where no life dared linger. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant crackle of dying flames and the faint whisper of ash settling onto the lifeless ground.

[ 100 Years Later ]

The area where the object had landed, once a desolate wasteland of scorched earth and ruin, had undergone a miraculous transformation. Over the decades, the land healed itself, as though some unseen force willed life to return. The soil, once charred and barren, became rich and fertile, sprouting vibrant greenery that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Towering trees, their trunks thick and ancient-looking despite their age, now cast long shadows over lush meadows. Rivers flowed with crystalline water, their gentle currents weaving through the land like veins of life. Animals thrived in the forests and plains, creating an ecosystem that seemed untouched by the horrors of the past.

Amid this newfound paradise, humans had arrived, drawn by the natural beauty of the land. They started small, with just a handful of settlers founding a quiet village they named Norway. The villagers lived in harmony, their lives simple and peaceful. Farmers tilled the fertile soil, hunters roamed the abundant forests, and families built homes of stone and timber, their laughter echoing through the serene landscape. Norway was a haven, a place untouched by strife or war, its people flourishing alongside the land.

That was, until the capital took notice. News of Norway’s prosperity spread far and wide, drawing the attention of Velmerys' rulers. They saw potential—not in the village’s peace, but in its strategic location and untouched resources. Officials arrived, followed by merchants, builders, and adventurers. They turned Norway into a bustling hub for travelers and fighters, transforming the quiet village into a lively adventurer's outpost. Inns, forges, and guild halls replaced the humble homes, and Norway became a destination for those seeking fame, fortune, or refuge.

Despite the chaos of its new identity, one mystery remained unsolved. In a land surrounded by wilderness, Norway had never suffered a single monster attack. No wolf packs prowled its outskirts, no goblins skulked in its shadows, and no greater beasts dared set foot near its borders. It was as if an unseen barrier protected the town, shielding it from harm.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Rumors spread among the adventurers. Some believed the land itself was enchanted, blessed by an ancient god. Others whispered of a lingering presence, a remnant of whatever had fallen here a century ago. But no one knew the truth, and no one dared to dig too deep into the past. Whatever the reason, Norway thrived, its people living under the protection of a mystery they couldn't begin to unravel.

One day, under the scorching sun, a young teen could be seen working tirelessly in the farmlands. Sweat dripped from his brow, the heat relentless, but he didn’t stop. This teen’s name was Travis, a sixteen-year-old orphan who had spent his entire life in the village of Norway.

Travis had known happiness once. His parents, both renowned adventurers, had provided him with a life most children envied. They weren’t home often, always off on raids or missions, but they made sure he had everything he could ever want—a warm home, toys, and stories of their heroic deeds that filled his young heart with dreams of following in their footsteps.

But all of that shattered when he turned ten. During a routine raid, his parents were killed, leaving him alone in the world. Orphaned and grieving, Travis was taken in by Norway's orphanage. The once-bright life he had known dimmed, and while the caretakers provided for his basic needs, the warmth and joy of family were lost to him.

By the time he turned sixteen and was considered an adult, he had no choice but to find work to survive. Luckily, Mr. Logan, a crop owner and an old friend of his father’s, offered him a job on the farm. It wasn’t glamorous, but it kept him fed and gave him a purpose. For months now, Travis had worked hard, saving what little money he could to afford his needs.

Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he let out a sigh, the sun beating down on his shoulders.

‘I should’ve bought a hat instead of a new shovel, honestly,’ he thought, shaking his head at his own poor decision.

As he dug his shovel into the dirt, his mind wandered to the dreams he’d once had. As a boy, he had imagined himself as a mighty adventurer, just like his parents. He pictured hunting monsters, going on grand raids, and becoming a celebrated hero. But reality had hit him hard as he grew older.

When he turned twelve, like everyone else in Norway, he underwent the mandatory evaluation to measure his potential. It was a significant moment in every child’s life—a chance to discover their talents and determine their future. For most, the evaluation brought hope and excitement. For Travis, it brought shame.

His evaluation results marked him as having the lowest possible talent, practically useless by society’s standards. It was a rare outcome, but not unheard of. The label stuck to him like a curse, and the other children in the orphanage treated him differently from that day forward. He became an outcast, the target of ridicule and scorn. The next four years of his life were a living hell.

Now, as he stood in the fields, the weight of those years felt distant, but not forgotten. He had come to terms with his fate.

‘Adventuring was never meant for me. Literally,’ he thought bitterly, stabbing the shovel into the dirt. 

‘And honestly, in my own opinion, it’s not worth the risk. I’ll just stick to farming. I heard farmers make good money. Mr. Logan seems to be doing pretty well, and maybe... maybe if I work hard enough, he’ll make me his successor.’

A small smile tugged at his lips as he paused to glance up at the sky. The thought of a simple, happy life with Jessica, Mr. Logan’s daughter, crossed his mind.

‘Yeah, maybe I’ll even marry Jessica. She’s sweet, pretty, and—’

“Hey, Travis! Get back to work!”

The sharp voice of his supervisor snapped him out of his daydream. He flinched, turning to face the man with an embarrassed smile.

“Yes, sir!” he called back, quickly resuming his work.

As he dug into the earth once more, the fleeting moment of fantasy was replaced by the harsh reality of the present. Still, a small flicker of hope lingered in his heart—a hope that maybe, just maybe, life would someday offer him something more.

'Well, for now, let’s just focus on getting recognition,' Travis thought, wiping the sweat from his brow as he positioned the shovel to dig into the earth. 

His mind wandered again, distracted by the simple but comforting fantasy of securing a stable life. But reality had a way of quickly snapping him back.

With a grunt, he thrust the shovel into the soil. However, instead of sinking smoothly into the dirt, it met something solid—something far harder than anything he had encountered before. There was a sharp, resounding crack, and before he could even register what had happened, the shovel snapped in half, the wooden handle splintering as the metal blade tore free from it.

Travis collapsed to his knees in shock, staring at the broken pieces scattered in front of him. The sudden failure left him motionless, his chest tight with disbelief. 

 His coworkers, who had been working nearby, immediately burst into laughter.

“Ahaha!! Man, you have such bad luck!” one of them jeered, his voice thick with amusement.

“That’s the third shovel since he started working here!” another one chimed in, shaking his head with a grin. “I guess I win the bet,” he added, looking smug, as if this had been expected.

The others snickered, and a few even exchanged looks, as if this was some sort of joke at Travis's expense. His face burned, and the embarrassment was overwhelming, but there was also something deeper—something that gnawed at him, a sense of something wrong.

Travis stared at the shattered pieces of his shovel, a sense of unease creeping over him. The handle, usually sturdy and dependable, had splintered as if it had struck something far harder than the rich soil of the farmlands. There was no explanation for it.

‘What broke it?’ he wondered, his heart pounding. 

TO BE CONTINUED