The flames danced and licked at everything around with an insatiable hunger, casting an eerie glow that painted the night sky a fiery orange.

Theron stood frozen in the center of his home village, the air was thick with burning soot and ash, choking the very air out of his lungs.

Witnessing the devastating destruction, his heart pounded in his chest as he helplessly watched his beloved village being ravaged with tears in his eyes. The sounds of crackling flames and anguished cries echoed in his ears, drowning out any other noise.

The nightmarish experience takes a harrowing turn when Theron catches sight of his own home, now a roaring blaze.

Through the flames, he sees the silhouette of his older sister trapped inside, engulfed in the searing heat. Her piercing screams played at his heartstrings like a demonic performance.

At that moment, Desperation, Despair, every emotion seemed to claw at Theron’s very soul, his legs sprinted on their own.

“Godul!!” His adolescent voice cracked with the amount of sheer desperation he felt.

As he reached out his hand, an unseen force held him back, not allowing him to get any closer, but just enough for Theron to feel the blaze singeing his left palm, scarring it.

As her charred black hand reached out from the blaze, her screams were now the only thing Theron could hear. “Theron! Please, run away! Theron!! THERON!!!”

“THERON!”

“GUH!?” Theron's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as if he just finished slaughtering hundreds of goblins.

Hastily taking a survey of his environment, he quickly realized what he just witnessed was just a dream… No, his repeated nightmare.

In reality, he was in his favorite guild tavern, Eve's Flask, the night crowded as usual. The atmosphere was electrified, charged with the joyous laughter, chatter, rhythmic clinking of tankards, and revelry of patrons who sought respite from their own unique daily toils.

Looking up from the hand on his shoulder, Theron glimpsed its owner.

An olive-toned man with rugged, blonde hair and a beard. His blue eyes and amiable smile carried nothing but simple joy. Numerous stains adorned his black apron and blue jeans, it was evident he had just finished work.

“Jeez my mans, you already went ahead and started drinking without your best pal?”

The man who saved Theron from his nightmare was none other than Jonathan Joshin, Kirull Village's very own blacksmith, and Theron's closest comrade.

Quickly straightening himself up, Theron realized just how much of a mess he was.

When he lifted his head from the hardwood table, he unwittingly extended a thin, glistening bridge of saliva, connecting from his lower lip to the puddle on the table. While normally translucent, it had a honey-brownish hue due to the ale that put Theron to sleep.

“Hehe, oh gods… This is super embarrassing. I'm sorry you had to see me like this my friend, haha…”

Reaching into his left pocket, Jonathan replied with a small chuckle. “Ah, no worries. Here, use my handkerchief. Must have been some gnarly dream if you were drooling that much.”

Theron tried to laugh it off, but it trailed off. He couldn't help the distinct look of heaviness weighing down his entire face. Something Jonathan quickly noticed.

“Theron, you alright man?”

“Yeah, I'm just still a little… Out of it, I guess…” Theron said, his dispirited voice betraying him.

“Was it that nightmare again?” Jonathan solemnly asked. The eye contact of complete understanding they made was enough for him.

“Don’t worry man. Someday, that bastard dragon, Ryukaros, will get what's coming to them. And if there's anyone I believe in to make such a thing happen, it'd be you! You're Braveheart: The Legendary Adventurer!” Jonathan said with a reassuring pat on the back.

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“Hehaha! Okay okay, that's enough, I get it. You're right, this doesn't befit my legacy!”

“That’s it! That's the Theron I know! Now, back to business. What was it that you wanted to show me?”

“Oh, that's right!” Theron shot up from his drunken stupor and grabbed a small purple pouch off his waist belt. Opening it, he pulled out a chunk of solid stone, way bigger than the pouch. “Here, take a look at this.”

“What the… What is that?” Jonathan stared at the stone slab.

Numerous enigmatic symbols and crude drawings were etched into its surface. The only symbol he could make out was the one at the very top, a compass-looking object.

“It’s an ancient rune… Or at least I think it is. I found it while doing my previous quest.”

“You mean the mission where you had to kill that Husuian Man-Killer Bear?”

“Yeah, it was the biggest bear I've seen. Easily twice as large than most. It made a nest at the foot of the Husuian Mountains, went out at night to nearby villages, and ate any unfortunate soul it came across. Curiously though, it also hoarded treasure within the nest, this rune being a part of it…”

“A bear collecting treasure and twice as big? High chance that bear was a Sui Generis Creature… Poetic, since only a monster like you could defeat another monster, who slaughtered a battalion of knights mind you, alone. May I have a closer inspection?”

“Sure!” Theron eagerly handed over the rune to Jonathan.

After a short moment of inspecting every cranny of the rune, Theron could see Jonathan's brow furrowing in deep thought, the gears in his head could practically be heard turning.

“These scribbles and markings… This… This is an encoded message…”

“A message?”

Pointing at the symbols, Jonathan explained. “Indeed. See how these markings have defined structures and some repetition? Especially these two lines having the same markings in the same order. It's indicative of a written language.”

“You know the language?”

“Afraid not my friend. I've decoded and identified numerous ancient artifacts adventurers bring to me or I myself found in caves… But this is foreign to me…” Sliding his finger to the edge, Jonathan continued. “The only other thing I can say for certain is this: It’s only one of many. The markings get cut off at the end here, meaning there's most likely other rune tablets of the same origin.”

“I see… Welp, only one thing to do, time to piece together this puzzle!”

“Eh? You serious? Why?”

“Don’t you feel it too, JoJo? It's radiating a faint arcane magic. Combined with the fact it's apparently a message, and only a piece of a larger whole… Something just tells me whatever is at the end of this puzzle might just be our answer to the age-old legend…”

“THE ELIXIR OF THE IMMORTAL GODS!” Theron ecstatically exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. At the cost of the other patrons in the tavern casting equal parts annoyed and skeptical glares, including Jonathan.

“Dude, keep it down… But uh, Theron, you sure you aren’t drunk off your ass right now? The Elixir of the Immortal Gods is just a fairy tale, literally a tale preached by the fairy race. You really believe there's something out there that can make a mere man unkillable? Where are you even going to start?”

“Dunno! All I know is that if we want to slay Ryukaros The Destroyer and end his five-century treacherous rule once and for all, we have to fight fire with fire! The Elixir is our only hope, yet no one has ever found it in Edens’ History. That's why I'm banking so much on this rune.”

“Trust me, I don't doubt you, Theron. It's you we're talking about, but are you really sure you wanna do this?

Chugging the last of his ale, Theron confirmed his future journey. “I've spent the last decade and a half of my life going on countless adventures of every kind, and yet, I have no doubt I've only discovered a fraction of what this world has to offer. I honestly do believe it exists, and I'M going to find it, no matter what it takes!”

Jonathan watched as Theron's blue eyes lit up with an intense fervor, as though each iris held a glimmering blue flame within. They shone with an almost childlike wonder, causing Jonathan to break out into a hearty laugh.

“Man, nothing can stop you! Fuck it, go be the hero Edens needs, I won’t get in the way. At least if you fail, you'll still be immortalized by the stories told about you. I can already see it now: A Brave Heart or a Foolish Heart? A Tale of Theron Blackborne, ha!”

“Pah!” Theron stood up and slammed some currency onto the table. Starting to walk towards the exit, he raised his hand in the air, his voice thundering inside the tavern for all to hear. “Just wait and see! I'll find the other runes and the elixir! If only a monster can defeat a monster, then I'm rejecting my humanity! JoJo!!”

As Theron's figure disappeared into the light creeping in from outside, whispers and snickers started to pour into the atmosphere of the tavern. Jonathan himself couldn't help but laugh himself.

“Heheheha! Gods… He may be a fool, but it's for that reason I fully believe in you… I always have my friend…” Looking down at the money Theron set down, Jonathan smiled. “Godspeed, Braveheart… Oy, Mr. Jopil! A cup of ale!”

As the tavern's usual joyous atmosphere began to set in again, a mysterious figure, cloaked in white, remained tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the tavern. Soon the figure, obscured by the hooded cloak, rose silently, the fabric cascading as they made their way toward the exit. They left a stack of currency on the table, precisely enough to cover the cost of the ten empty ale glasses they had consumed.

Everyone barely even noticed them, except for Jonathan as they passed him. Briefly captivated, he couldn't help but wonder about the stranger's mysterious aura that surrounded them, a stark contrast to Theron's boisterous enthusiasm.