The ruins of Eldoria stood in eerie silence, the remnants of battle still fresh. Broken walls, shattered stone, and blood-stained earth told the story of a fallen town.
In the distance, a lone figure sat atop a crumbling rock, his golden eyes gleaming under the dim moonlight.
He whistled a slow, haunting tune before shifting into a song, his voice carrying an eerie amusement.
"Poor little lamb, poor little lamb…"
His foot tapped against the rock as he continued.
"Poor little lamb… what will you do if the shepherd is gone?"
A set of footsteps echoed through the ruins.
Nero paused, his grin widening.
"Amon… back already?"
The Archdemon of Deception emerged from the shadows, his crimson eyes scanning the destruction.
He stopped near Nero, his expression unreadable.
"What happened here? The walls… the ruins… What did you do?"
Nero chuckled, stretching his arms lazily.
"Haha, you missed all the fun."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes glinting with mischief.
"I had a little… encounter with a kid."
Amon raised an eyebrow. "A kid?"
Nero grinned wider.
"Azrael's little son."
Amon's expression darkened. "Arthur?"
Nero shook his head, clicking his tongue.
"Hehe, no, not Arthur… the little one."
He tapped his chin mockingly, pretending to think.
"What was his name again…?"
Then, he snapped his fingers.
"Ah. Artreus Reigns."
Amon's eyes flickered dangerously.
"Azrael's bloodline still lives…"
He took a step forward, his aura darkening.
"We can't let that happen."
He glared at Nero. "Did you kill him?"
Nero sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up.
"Well… I would have, but I got a little carried away."
Amon's expression turned to stone.
"You let him escape."
Nero grinned, unbothered.
"What can I say? That elf princess got in my way. Tricky little thing."
Amon’s fist clenched. His patience was thinning.
"You let them escape!"
Nero shrugged, unphased.
"How was I supposed to catch him when they had all those little tricks? Mana magic, teleportation, all that boring crap."
Before Amon could respond—
CRASH!
A massive impact echoed through the ruins.
Amon and Nero turned to see a broken wall crumble to pieces.
Standing amidst the wreckage, breathing heavily, was Asmodina.
Her fists were clenched, her crimson eyes burning with fury.
Nero laughed.
"Oh look, speaking of little tricks…"
Amon narrowed his eyes. "What happened to her?"
Nero grinned, watching Asmodina with amusement.
"Hahaha… she's furious because she got the absolute shit beaten out of her by the elf."
Asmodina snarled, her body trembling with rage.
"Shut up, Nero!"
She punched another chunk of the wall, her sharp nails digging into the stone.
"I let my guard down, that's all!"
Her breath was ragged, her pride clearly shattered.
"F*ck it!!"
She whipped her head toward Amon, her red eyes glowing with hate.
"Next time we meet, I’ll rip her apart!"
Nero smirked, leaning back.
"Oh, I can’t wait to see that."
Amon’s fist clenched so tightly that his claws dug into his own palm.
His crimson eyes burned with fury.
"We need to report this!!"
His voice echoed through the ruins, cutting through the silence.
Nero, still lounging on his rock, rolled his eyes.
He huffed, running a hand through his messy black hair.
"Relax…" Nero smirked, "It’s just a weak little kid."
His golden eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Next time, I won’t play with my food."
Amon’s eyes snapped to him, sharp as daggers.
He marched toward Nero, towering over him.
"There won’t be a next time!!"
His voice boomed, filled with rage.
Nero’s smirk faltered slightly, but he remained seated, arms crossed.
Amon gritted his teeth.
"Get it through your thick skull, you arrogant fool!"
He took a step closer, his aura flaring.
"He’s the son of a Godslayer. A false god. Azrael’s bloodline should have been wiped out! Our master’s sacrifice would mean nothing if that bloodline survives!"
Amon’s voice was sharp, filled with an urgency that even Nero couldn’t ignore.
"You don’t understand the weight of this! If that boy lives—"
His fingers curled into his palm, shaking with rage.
"He will be the next in line."
A cold wind passed through the ruins.
The embers of their past destruction still smoldered.
Nero’s expression darkened, his smirk vanishing.
"Another Arthur Reigns…"
Amon nodded.
His breath was slow, controlled. His rage was now focused, sharpened into purpose.
"We have to report this to our advisor. Gather the Archdemons. Find that boy."
He looked at Nero, his voice low and venomous.
"We can’t let him grow stronger."
Nero remained silent, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable.
Amon turned, his voice final.
"The boy needs to die."
The morning sun peeked through the dense canopy, casting golden light upon the trio as they walked through the quiet woods.
Artreus trailed slightly behind Guinevere, his eyes flickering toward her when she wasn’t looking.
His mind replayed the events of last night.
Her voice echoed in his thoughts—
"I just… I just couldn’t leave you there, Artreus."
His face felt hot.
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He quickly looked away, whispering to himself.
"What is this feeling?! I can't even look at her!"
His chest tightened as he clenched his fists.
"What she said last night… it confuses me."
His brows furrowed.
"And frustrates me…"
Then—another memory surfaced.
The image of Guinevere crying—her violet eyes filled with fear—after he had nearly been killed by Nero in Eldoria.
Artreus whispered again, his voice barely audible.
"She… cried for me?"
His expression darkened, frustration mixing with confusion.
"What’s with her getting emotional about me?!
His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
"Perhaps she still treats me like a child… but I’m a warrior! I don’t need to be treated like—"
"We're here."
Ken’s voice snapped Artreus out of his thoughts.
The three came to a stop.
Ken turned to face them.
His usual carefree expression softened slightly.
"This is where we part ways."
Guinevere bowed slightly, smiling.
"Thank you for everything, Ken. For helping us. How can we repay you?"
Ken chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.
"Hmm… if you really want to pay me back, how about this?"
Guinevere tilted her head.
Ken grinned.
"Would you mind if I visited your kingdom someday? I always wanted to see the magical kingdom of the elves and learn more about mana magic."
Guinevere let out a soft laugh.
"Sure… I’ll ask my father to allow it."
Ken nodded, satisfied.
"Thanks"
Artreus watched as Ken turned to him, his usual grin fading slightly.
There was something different in his tone now—serious, firm.
Ken locking eyes with him.
"And Artreus…"
Artreus straightened slightly, his blue eyes meeting Ken’s.
Ken took a deep breath.
"Do what you think is right."
Artreus blinked, confused for a moment.
Ken continued, his voice steady.
"You have the potential to help people in need. You're strong, and I believe that."
Ken paused, his smirk softening.
"I’ll believe in you, no matter your ups and downs."
His expression turned serious again.
"Don’t lose hope."
Artreus felt his breath hitch slightly.
Ken’s eyes narrowed. His voice lowered.
"If the Demon King still lives…"
The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves.
Ken continued.
"The world needs a hero."
He let the words hang in the air before finishing.
"Without Arthur… who will be the one to save us from it?"
A heavy silence settled between them.
Ken’s words dug deep into Artreus’ chest like an invisible weight.
Would it be him?
Could it be him?
Artreus remained silent, his thoughts racing.
Ken studied him for a moment before a small smirk returned to his lips.
He turned away, waving lazily over his shoulder.
"Also… don’t die."
Artreus watched him take a few steps forward, his figure blending into the morning fog.
Ken raised his voice one last time.
"Live longer. Freely. We’ll meet again someday."
And with that—he was gone.
Artreus stood there, unmoving, his mind echoing Ken’s final words.
"The world needs a hero. Without Arthur…"
He exhaled, gripping the hilt of his sword.
Guinevere placed her hand gently on Artreus’ right shoulder.
Artreus glanced at her, his blue eyes meeting her violet ones.
She gave him a soft smile.
"Let’s go."
Artreus smirked slightly, nodding.
"Right. Let’s get you home."
They journeyed through vast fields, thick forests, and flowing rivers.
With each passing day, they encountered dangers—feral beasts, goblins, and other monstrous creatures lurking in the wild.
But they survived.
Artreus honed his swordsmanship, striking with precision.
Guinevere wielded her magic with graceful efficiency, her spells lighting up the battlefield.
Together, they fought side by side, learning each other’s strengths.
During their travels, they adapted to the wilderness.
Guinevere picked fresh fruits from trees, her hands carefully selecting the ripest ones.
Meanwhile, Artreus successfully hunted a rabbit for dinner, his survival skills kicking in.
That night, as they sat around the campfire, sharing a meal, something was different.
They smiled at each other.
Not just because they had survived—
But because they had grown closer.
They laughed, they talked, they enjoyed the simple company of one another.
They visited small towns along the way, walking among the townspeople, blending in with the normalcy of life.
For the first time in a while—Artreus felt at peace.
One night, as they camped, Artreus leaned back, staring at the sky.
He suddenly remembered something Guinevere had mentioned before.
"Last time, you mentioned that your great-great-grandfather was… 1,225 years old?"
Guinevere glanced at him, amused.
"1,235 years old, actually."
Artreus whistled.
"Jeez… How did he live that long? Do your other grandpas still live too?"
Guinevere smiled faintly, shaking her head.
"No. My great-grandfather died during the Race War, a long time ago."
Artreus paused, sensing a deeper story behind those words.
He lowered his voice. "I see… Sorry to hear that."
Guinevere gave a small nod.
"It’s okay. It was natural for him. He believed in the cycle of life, and he accepted his fate."
She looked into the fire, her expression distant.
"We elves… we are different from your mortal lifespan. We are a different species entirely."
She took a deep breath before continuing.
"That’s just how the world is. Some live long, some live short. But we must accept fate as it comes."
Artreus stared at her for a moment before nodding.
"Hmm… I see."
The next day, the journey continued.
Guinevere stood by the river, washing herself in the cool water.
The sunlight glistened against the rippling waves, the quiet rush of the stream blending with the sound of the wind.
Not far away… a certain young warrior was being suspiciously quiet.
Artreus peeked over a rock, curiosity getting the best of him.
His face burned slightly as he watched her silver hair shimmer in the sunlight.
"Just a quick glance… that’s not so bad, right?"** he whispered to himself.**
Before he could even think about looking any longer—
FWOOOSH!
A powerful gust of mana surged through the air.
Artreus suddenly felt something coil around his body—
Before he could react—his arms and legs were tied up by glowing magical vines!
"W-WHAT THE—?!"
Guinevere turned around, her violet eyes gleaming with amusement and warning.
She smirked, shaking her head.
"Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?"
Artreus struggled against the magic vines, flailing like a caught fish.
"I-I WAS JUST CHECKING IF YOU WERE SAFE!"
Guinevere raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Is that so?"
Artreus sweated.
"I SWEAR!"
With a flick of her fingers, the vines suddenly catapulted him into the air.
"WAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"
CRASH!
He landed several meters away, groaning in pain.
Guinevere laughed softly, crossing her arms.
"That should teach you."
Artreus grumbled from the ground, face buried in the dirt.
"Stupid magic…"
The next day
The forest stretched endlessly around them, but something in the air had changed.
Guinevere slowed her steps, her violet eyes scanning the trees.
Then—her expression lit up with familiarity.
"I know this place…"
She turned to Artreus, excitement rising in her voice.
"We're close! Artreus, quick!"
She suddenly took off ahead.
Artreus blinked in confusion.
"Wah—Princess, wait!"
Without hesitation, he chased after her, his boots crunching against the forest floor.
Guinevere rushed toward an ancient tree, running her fingers along its bark.
Her eyes searched—until she found it.
A small, barely visible marking carved into the wood.
Her lips curled into a smile.
"Artreus! This way!"
Artreus skidded to a stop beside her, panting.
"Princess, what’s going on? Where are we?"
Guinevere turned to him, her excitement unwavering.
"We’re here."
Artreus looked around, frowning.
All he saw was more trees. More forest.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
"Where is ‘here’? I don’t see anything."
Guinevere chuckled.
"For over a thousand years, my kingdom has been protected by powerful magic.
It cloaks the land—camouflages it. No one can enter without the proper spell."
She raised her hands, her mana surging.
A gentle glow formed around her fingers as she whispered the incantation.
"Itram Inam Doorium."
The air in front of them shimmered—like ripples on a pond.
Then—WHOOSH!
A gust of wind surged outward, pushing against the trees.
And before them—a massive golden door materialized from thin air.
The ancient doorway stood tall, engraved with elven runes glowing faintly.
Guinevere extended a hand toward Artreus.
Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Come, Artreus. You’re going to be amazed."
Artreus hesitated for only a second before taking her hand.
Together, they stepped through the door.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the world around them changed.
Artreus felt his breath hitch.
Before him lay a realm unlike anything he had ever seen.
Floating islands hovered in the sky, held aloft by shimmering magic.
A great waterfall cascaded from above, pouring down into crystal-clear rivers below.
And at the heart of it all—stood the largest tree Artreus had ever seen.
Its branches stretched toward the heavens, its roots deep and unshakable.
Nestled within its white bark—a grand castle, carved into the very life of the tree itself.
"Whoa…" Artreus muttered, his eyes wide.
"This is Elenora…?"
Guinevere smiled at his reaction.
But before Artreus could take it all in—
Gasps echoed through the air.
They weren’t alone.
Elves stood frozen in place, their eyes widening in shock and awe.
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"It’s the Princess!"
"She’s alive!"
"Glory to our ancestors!"
"The Princess has returned!"
The crowd quickly gathered, their expressions filled with disbelief, relief, and overwhelming joy.
Guinevere raised her hand, offering a soft wave.
The elves bowed their heads in respect.
But then—a new whisper spread.
"She brought a human boy with her?"
Some looked at Artreus in curiosity. Others in suspicion.
Artreus ignored them, keeping his focus on Guinevere.
The sound of hooves approached.
A carriage, surrounded by knights clad in silver and emerald armor, made its way toward them.
The knights of Elenora dismounted swiftly, forming a protective formation.
Then—the carriage door opened.
Two figures stepped forward.
A tall man with golden eyes, long white hair tied back, and a regal presence.
And beside him, a graceful woman, her silver locks flowing like moonlight, her violet eyes warm yet piercing.
King Thalorian and Queen Syltharia.
The king’s gaze locked onto Guinevere, his expression unreadable for a moment.
Then—his features softened.
The queen’s eyes glistened.
"My daughter!"
Guinevere rushed forward.
"Mother! Father!"
The royal family embraced, holding each other tightly.
Artreus watched from a distance, a small smile tugging at his lips.
For the first time in a long while…
Guinevere was home.
Guinevere stepped back from the embrace of her parents, turning slightly to gesture toward Artreus.
Her voice was warm yet filled with pride.
"Father, Mother… I would like you to meet someone."
The King and Queen of Elenora turned their attention toward the boy standing behind her.
Guinevere continued.
"This is the one who saved me. My friend… Arthur’s younger brother."
She paused, before adding his full name with a soft smile.
"Artreus Reigns."
Artreus straightened up immediately, feeling the weight of their gazes.
He gave a slight bow, his voice steady but slightly nervous.
"It’s an honor to meet you, Y-Your Highnesses."
The king, Thalorian, studied him carefully.
His golden eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable.
Then—his voice came deep, calm, yet carrying an immense presence.
"You say… Arthur’s younger brother?"
His gaze lingered on Artreus for a long moment before he gave a small nod.
"You do resemble him."
The queen, Syltharia, smiled softly, her violet eyes warm and curious.
She stepped forward, tilting her head slightly.
"And he’s cute."
Artreus immediately stiffened, his face turning slightly red.
Guinevere covered her mouth, stifling a small laugh.
The queen gave a graceful nod.
"Thank you, young warrior, for saving our daughter and escorting her home."
Artreus rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly away.
"I-I was just doing what I had to…"
The king suddenly raised a hand.
His booming voice echoed through the courtyard.
"Servants!"
Several elves quickly approached, bowing before him.
"Prepare a feast! Treat our guest with the highest honor!"
A ripple of excitement spread through the gathered elves.
The king turned his gaze toward the people, raising his voice once more.
"Tonight, we celebrate! For our princess has returned home!"
A wave of cheers erupted from the elven citizens.
The king smiled, then looked at Artreus again.
"And we shall also celebrate her savior!"
The crowd erupted once more, voices filled with gratitude and joy.
Artreus blinked, completely overwhelmed.
"A… feast? For me?"
Guinevere smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You deserve it."
As the cheers of the elven crowd echoed through the courtyard, a sudden high-pitched voice cut through the noise.
"Big sister! You’re home!"
Guinevere’s eyes widened in recognition as she turned toward the voice.
"Odette!"
A young elf girl ran toward her, her short white hair bouncing with every step.
Her bright purple eyes glistened with tears as she threw herself into Guinevere’s arms.
Guinevere caught her, hugging her tightly.
"Oh, Odette… I’m home."
Odette sniffled, her arms wrapped tightly around her sister’s waist.
"I thought… I thought I’d never see you again! I missed you!"
Guinevere smiled warmly, stroking the girl’s hair.
"I missed you too, little one."
Then—Odette suddenly pulled back, her curious gaze flickering toward Artreus.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him.
"Who’s that?"
Guinevere turned to Artreus, her smile still present.
"This is my friend, Artreus. He’s the one who saved me."
She paused before adding,
"He’s the same age as you, actually."
Artreus blinked, surprised.
"Wait… you have a little sister?"
Odette tilted her head, still observing him.
Then, her brows furrowed slightly.
"But… how could he have saved you?"
She crossed her arms, her voice skeptical.
"He’s a child."
Artreus froze.
His eye twitched.
Then—his fists clenched as he stepped forward.
"Who are you calling a child?! I’m a warrior!"
Odette giggled at his reaction, her playful nature already showing.
She stepped forward, folding her hands neatly before giving a polite bow.
"My name is Odette Elaria Aragorn. It’s nice to meet you, warrior boy."
Artreus crossed his arms, huffing.
"Tch. Just call me Artreus."