image [https://i.imgur.com/eY2gF5l.png]
To the south of the main continent lay a vast expanse of fertile land—a land that became a beacon of hope and prosperity for many, especially the Demi Humans who called it their home. These were beings of mixed heritage, born from the union of humans and other races. Among them, the most common were half-elves, and the dominant power governing this southern continent was led by a powerful mage named Huodin.
Huodin's fame spread far and wide throughout the southern lands, as he was credited with transforming the once barren and inhospitable terrain into a thriving green haven. His mastery of magic brought prosperity and abundance to the Demi Humans, enabling them to flourish and live in harmony.
Interestingly, the southern continent stood impervious to demonic invasions, a stark contrast to the main continent where such attacks were common. The demons, recognizing the lack of resources, weak magic, and strategic insignificance, showed no interest in venturing southward. Thus, the Demi Humans and their prosperous kingdom remained neutral during the first war and continued to maintain that stance.
However, despite their loving and hopeful nature, the Demi Humans faced prejudice and discrimination from the holy church on the main continent. The church viewed them as the spawn of the devil, creations of the feared Demon God. Yet, these assumptions were baseless, merely fueled by racism and ignorance.
In the heart of the Southern Continent lay the kingdom of half-elves, the capital known as Mirohi. Over the past two years, this prosperous city had witnessed remarkable growth, a testament to Huodin's leadership and the united spirit of the Demi-Human community. Their thriving society, though ostracized by some, stood tall as a symbol of resilience and unity, holding onto their vision of a better world despite the challenges they faced.
image [https://i.imgur.com/7fgH3qs.png]
"Bastard Demi-Human!" Shouted an unruly human, crossing paths with a young elven boy who wore a black eyepatch over his right eye. "Watch where you're stepping!"
The boy remained silent and calm, facing the human's hostility with a blank stare, unaware of the offense.
Quickly, the boy's mother rushed over, apologizing profusely to the human who had deliberately bumped into her son.
It was evident to those witnessing the encounter that the human had purposely instigated the confrontation, yet the boy's mother still felt compelled to apologize.
The southern continent, though home to demi-humans, still attracted visits from humans who viewed themselves as superior to the locals. They would often go out of their way to demean and humiliate the demi-humans.
The surrounding crowd observed the incident, continuing their business in an uncomfortable silence, their disdain for the rude human evident on their faces of disgust. While they despised such behavior, they were restrained by the king's attempts to forge alliances and maintain peace. This kept them from taking matters into their own hands and confronting the human aggressor.
However, their restraint didn't extinguish the underlying tension and hatred that the Demi-Humans held towards the humans.
Even if they decided to fight, they would most likely be thrown into prison, for they were seen as lesser beings.
Injustice.
The boy and his mother walked away from the scene, heads bowed in shame, the air slowly cleared, but the lingering resentment remained. Injustice was a bitter reality they faced daily, constrained by the fear of reprisal if they dared to challenge the oppressive behavior of the humans.
The demi-humans lived on the outskirts of the capital, in streets called Dorma Rhode, known as a place for the less fortunate in society. A direct insult to their race.
The living conditions in the outskirts were bearable, but just barely so. Clean water was a luxury hard to come by, and finding enough food was an even greater challenge. Despite the capital being home to many demi-humans, the higher echelons of society were controlled by humans who curried favor with the king, leaving their own people to suffer in poverty.
Arriving home, the mother let out a faint breath of exhaustion as her young son, Arbos, ran to his room. She was a single mother, and life was far from easy.
Their dwelling was shabby, to say the least. The living room held a small fireplace at its back, with a modest dining table placed in front of it. The house itself was tiny, its roof made of hay. It was one of thousands of homes built for the poor—this was their reality.
Despite these harsh living conditions, the mother and son bore hopeful expressions, doing their best to find joy in the little they had. They were optimists, holding on to hope even in the face of adversity.
The mother went to the kitchen to start cooking dinner, utilizing the ingredients she had managed to buy with her meager wages. A basket filled with carrots and potatoes was all they could afford. With these humble ingredients, she would create a simple stew, and they would find contentment in it—that was their way of life.
Meanwhile, in his room, Arbos pondered his identity. He knew his name was unusual among their kind. The name "Arbos" was siMilar to the great Demon God, Arbious, a name frowned upon among the demi-humans. Normally, the demi-humans wouldn't allow their children to construct their own names, but somehow Arbos had chosen this name for himself.
He was undeniably beyond just strange. His room, a peculiar sanctuary, was filled with ritual circles and forbidden items that many would deem illegal. The mother was well aware of her son's unusual interests, but for reasons known only to her, she never intervened to stop him.
Within the confines of his room, the boy, Arbos, had stolen a fresh piece of chalk, using it to carefully etch symbols resembling runic letters on the ground.
"Let's see... that one goes there... and yes, that should do it!" he muttered to himself.
He combed through the pages of a tattered book, striving to comprehend whatever details he could make out, as he prepared to conduct his peculiar rituals. The book itself was dark and foreboding, adorned with infernal and malevolent sigils.
The boy stared blankly at the intricate circle he had drawn. To him, it was a perfect replication of the one described in the book. However, to his dismay, nothing seemed to occur.
Frustration consumed him as his anger grew. He clenched the chalk too tightly, breaking it in half.
"Why won't it work? I did everything right!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with disappointment.
Lying on his stomach on the cold clay floor, Arbos rested his head on his arm, his eyes fixated on the enigmatic book before him. It bore secrets that he was determined to unlock—secrets of rituals and sacrifices, even though he wasn't entirely sure of their implications.
The boy spent considerable time trying to decipher the language in the mysterious book. With relentless determination, he managed to translate it into their native tongue, but his understanding remained far from perfect, constrained by his young age and limited knowledge.
"What... is sacrifice?" he questioned aloud, his heart quickening without his awareness. "Sacrifice? What does this mean?"
The word intrigued and perplexed him simultaneously. At just twelve years old, he was grappling with something far beyond his years.
Education in Dorma Rhode was rudimentary at best, geared towards teaching practical skills like farming and manual labor. The government showed no interest in providing formal education to the less fortunate.
"Sacrifice..." he whispered, trying to comprehend the weight of the word.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and his mother entered the room, her eyes fixed on him as he sat on the ground.
"You have to stop this nonsense," she urged gently but firmly.
"But mother!" the boy protested, a mixture of frustration and curiosity in his voice.
Her gaze fell upon the chalk marks on the ground, prompting her to question what he had been doing.
"Don't tell me you stole chalk again..." his mother scolded with a mix of concern and disappointment.
Feeling a tinge of embarrassment, the boy looked down in submission, though his mind was fixated on the word he had read in the book—sacrifice.
Ignoring his mother's words, his thoughts wandered as she finished her lecture and left the room. He knew he had acted recklessly by stealing chalk, a crime that could lead to severe consequences, especially for demi-humans like himself. But the allure of the book and its secrets was too strong to resist.
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He stood up from the floor, gazing at the forbidden tome that lay before him, whispering tantalizing promises.
Cautiously, he picked up the book, taking it to his bed and hiding it underneath. With a faint sigh, he raises his arm, touching the eyepatch that covered his right eye.
"This is stupid," he mumbled, struggling with conflicting emotions.
Leaving his room, he looked over to his mother who was in the kitchen. Their connection had waned over the years, especially after the loss of his father. Though young, he understood the concept of death, yet it still felt elusive and incomprehensible.
His mother appeared teary, yet she continued with her daily chores as if trying to maintain a facade of strength.
As he observed her, a sense of guilt gnawed at him. He didn't want to cause her any more pain or disappointment, but the desire for knowledge and understanding was an insatiable fire within him. Despite the risks and the warnings, he couldn't help but feel drawn to the mysteries that lay hidden within the dark pages of the book.
"I'm going out," the boy announced, looking at his mother, but she remained silent, lost in her thoughts.
He stepped out of the house, even though he had just returned. Restlessness seemed to consume him, an incessant need to keep moving, unable to stay in one place for too long.
As he walked down the cobblestone path, his mind was preoccupied with the word he had read in the book—sacrifice. Determined to understand its meaning, he murmured to himself, "Sacrifice... I need to learn what that means."
From the depths of the shadows, a hand reached out and gently rested on his shoulder, surprising the boy. He turned around, his confusion evident in his gaze.
Before him stood a young man, tall and older than him. The man's clothing exuded an air of sophistication and high status, adorned with gold and draped in perfectly tailored black silk. The boy couldn't help but notice that the man's attire was unusual for an adventurer, who usually sported practical and rugged gear.
Yet, there was something far more unsettling about him—the sinister aura that surrounded him, emanating an aura of evil, darkness, and despair.
A shiver ran down the boy's spine, and instinctively, he sensed danger. This encounter filled him with trepidation, and he wondered what this mysterious man's intentions were. He couldn't deny the overwhelming feeling of foreboding that enveloped him in the presence of this enigmatic figure.
And yet, despite the unsettling aura that surrounded him, the man's gentle smile and the fact that he was a human intrigued the boy.
He couldn't help but gaze up at the man's face, captivated by his eyes—red like blood and foreboding danger. His curiosity was tempered with caution as he cautiously inquired, "Who... are you?"
The man responded, "My name...? I... You can call me Arbious."
The boy instinctively took a step back, still eyeing him warily. "Arbious? As in the Demon God?"
In a fit of laughter, Arbious found amusement in the boy's direct deduction. "You're rather blunt, I'll give you that. Straight to the point, I like it..."
The boy's body tensed with unease as he asked, "What do you want from me?"
The man's response was laced with intrigue, "Oh, nothing really. I saw you and overheard you say something that piqued my interest."
"And what's that?" the boy inquired, still wary of the stranger before him.
"You talked about sacrifice... But what were you referring to?" Arbious questioned, his curiosity mirroring the boy's own fascination with the forbidden knowledge he sought.
"Referring to?" the boy repeated, grappling with whether to reveal the details of his pursuits to this enigmatic man who seemed to be cloaked in a shroud of darkness.
The boy paused, contemplating whether he should share his curiosity about the word with the mysterious man.
"It's not a word you hear often... So what were you talking about?"
The man, despite the eerie aura he exuded, also carried an inviting presence that somehow made the boy feel like he could trust him.
"I read it in a book..." the boy confessed, cautiously choosing his words. "Do you know what it means?"
"Of course..." the man replied, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he looked down at the boy. He seemed genuinely intrigued by the conversation.
"What's your name?" Arbious asked, reaching for a connection with the boy.
Bewildered by the question, the boy hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether he should be honest. Eventually, he found himself unable to resist the words that came out unwillingly.
"Arbos."
As the boy's name left his lips, Arbious couldn't help but laugh, almost maniacally. "Arbos?! Perhaps it was destiny that we met."
"I don't believe in such a thing," the boy replied, trying to brush off the eerie coincidence, although a tiny sliver of curiosity remained in the back of his mind.
"Oh? Then what do you believe in?" Arbious inquired, intrigued by the boy's response.
"I believe in magic," Arbos replied, unable to contain the excitement and curiosity that surged within him. There was something about this man that drew him in, prompting him to open up.
"Magic? Ah, you are learning it?" Arbious questioned thoughtfully. "But are you not a Demi-Human?"
The boy looked down at the ground, his hesitance evident. It was true that his race, the Demi-Humans, were not known for their prowess in magic, and yet, there was something unique about him that even he couldn't fully understand.
"Your race hasn't shown to be adept at magic... and yet, I sense magic within you," Arbious proclaimed.
"You... Do?" Arbos asked, astonishment coloring his voice.
"Why, of course," the mysterious man affirmed, and with every word he spoke, Arbos found himself captivated, his doubts and fears momentarily overshadowed.
"You have great potential," Arbious continued, his words filling the boy's heart with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
"How do you know so much about magic?" Arbos inquired, unable to resist delving further into the possibilities this enigmatic wizard presented.
"I am a wizard. A traveling wizard. Master of magic," Arbious replied with an air of confidence.
Master of magic... The words echoed in the boy's mind, sparking a realization that this was a perfect opportunity for him to learn and explore the mystical world of magic.
Wizards were beings of immense power, their mastery over magic was considered a rare gift, especially among the Demi-Human empire where they were almost unheard of. To be visited by a wizard was an honor beyond measure, surpassing even an audience with the king himself.
Yet, the figure before him went beyond being just a regular wizard; he claimed to be a master of magic, a title that no one, not even the archangels, could boast. The boy's mind couldn't help but recall the name Arbious—the great Demon God renowned for his magical prowess, but who had vanished without a trace two years ago. The demi-humans didn't know much about the great war, and were ignorant of what had occurred; however, everyone knew that the Demon God had vanished.
"You... you're a wizard?!" the boy gasped in utter shock and disbelief.
The man calmly raised his left arm halfway, showcasing his power over magic. a magical circle visualized before them, as the red glare of it sparked fascination and fear within the boy. its infernal sigils looked the same as the ones he had read in the book, and In response to his magic, the once sunny skies above them darkened abruptly, massive black clouds gathering over the entire country.
In awe, the boy watched as Arbious effortlessly commanded the weather itself. It was a feat that even the most skilled magicians would struggle to achieve—weather control magic demanded incredible sophistication, and it could take thousands of years to master. Yet here, before his very eyes, Arbious wielded this formidable magic with ease.
The boy was both exhilarated and taken aback by Arbious's proposition. Could he truly be the demon god himself? His name and powers aligned with the legends, and witnessing his control over the weather was awe-inspiring.
"I sense potential within you as well. And as things stand, I am looking for an apprentice."
Arbos couldn't believe his luck. The chance to be taught by a master of magic was beyond his wildest dreams, and he couldn't resist the urge to ask, "Please make me your disciple."
A sinister smile spread from ear to ear on Arbious's face as the boy made his plea. It was as if he had anticipated every word Arbos would say.
"In exchange for my knowledge, what do you have to offer?" Arbious inquired, his tone calculating.
The boy's mind raced, pondering what he could possibly offer the master of magic. He had no gold, no fame, nothing that would ordinarily interest a wizard of Arbious's stature.
"Offer...?" Arbos repeated, feeling the weight of the demand settling on his shoulders.
"Yes, nothing in life comes for free. A wizard should know that better than anyone," Arbious asserted. "Magic is exchanged for power; it's the currency to wield power. And to learn how to use that power, I demand something in return."
Arbos took a deep breath, contemplating the price he was willing to pay for such a rare opportunity. He knew he had to offer something meaningful, something that would truly impress the master of magic. However, upon pondering for a few moments, he came to his ultimate realization.
"I have nothing to offer you..."
Arbious fixed his gaze on the boy, focusing on the eyepatch that covered his eye.
"What about your eye?"
The unexpected question caught the boy off guard, leaving him puzzled by Arbious' strange request.
"My eye? Why would you want that?" The boy thought to himself, unsure of how to respond.
"You want my eye?"
"Yes," Arbious affirmed.
"But without it, I cannot see..."
"Not your left eye... The one beneath the eyepatch. I want that one."
Perplexed, the boy questioned Arbious' motives. It was an unusual and unheard-of demand. After all, his right eye was blind, serving no purpose. Why would anyone want it? The boy was puzzled but contemplated the offer. In exchange for Arbious' knowledge, he only needed to give up an eye that was of no use to him – a curious bargain.
He pondered the proposal and finally asked, "Are you serious about this offer?"
Arbious remained resolute. "Absolutely. The choice is yours."
Despite knowing that Arbious was an evil presence, the allure of power and happiness enticed the boy. He felt drawn to the opportunity, even though he sensed that Arbious was playing with his emotions. Nevertheless, he couldn't bear to lead a life filled with shame and regret. The man before him seemed to be the epitome of creation, and beyond that, someone who didn't look down upon him like the humans, and even his mother did.
In a decisive moment, the boy made up his mind. He knew the risks, but he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He spoke with conviction, "You can have it."