The tranquil valley beside the Cliff of Broken Love hid the dark secrets of the Order of Forbidden Harmony.

A mountain river wound its way through lush forests, its surface a clear reflection of the shimmering sunlight. Suddenly, a heavy thump echoes from the river bank, breaking the tranquility. The source? A small, two-story wooden house nestled within a fenced enclosure. Fragrant medicinal herbs peek through the fence, their subtle aroma mingling with the earthy scent of the forest.

On the second floor.

The world spun as John was slammed into the wall, the impact stealing the air from his lungs. A gasp tore through his throat as a vision in gossamer materialized beside him. Her beauty was undeniable, but the long sword held inches from his throat chilled him to the bone. A searing line of pain erupted across his neck as the blade drew first blood, a crimson bead blooming before tracing a slow path down his chest. In that crimson tide, John saw his own mortality reflected, death a single heartbeat away.

Unexpected disaster.

Last night, after tending the garden and just before evening practice, a woman plummeted from the sky, crashing into the tranquility of his solitude.

She was a breathtaking vision. Yet, her face had a feverish flush, her eyes burned with a wild, unfocused light. An intense aura of heat radiated from her, warping the air around her like a mirage. Despite her captivating beauty, with cascading raven hair and skin like porcelain, her clouded mind betrayed her. Was she ravaged by a potent poison, or perhaps the victim of a perilous breakthrough attempt gone wrong?

John recoiled, fear clenching his gut, but he couldn't deny the allure of her presence. Before he could react, she had seized him, her touch searing his skin as she pulled him towards her. Her scent, a heady blend of lotus blossoms and something wilder, filled his senses, overwhelming his thoughts. He tried to resist, but her strength was otherworldly, her grip like iron.

A wave of confusion washed over him as she pressed against him, her body trembling, a tentalizing combination of timidity and desperate need. Despite his fear, a forbidden thrill sparked within him, fueled by the ragged breath and softness of her skin, the gentle curve fit perfectly against his, a silent invitation for him to explore the uncharted territory of closeness. His heart pounded in his chest as he found himself drawn into the maelstrom of her desire and vulnerability, his own inhibitions swept away by the overwhelming power of the moment.

It would have been even better, if there wasn't a murderous glint in her eyes the next morning.

Jolting awake, she lashed out with her sword. A flicker of hesitation, however, marred the fury in her eyes. John glimpsed a flit of shame - a shadow in the depths of her cold stare - betraying the turmoil within.

"My lady," John stammered, "might there be some... confusion?"

"Are you with Forbidden Harmony?" The woman's eyes narrowed, the sword's edge pressing a thin line of blood onto his skin.

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With the sword at his throat, John only dared to speak hoarsely: "yes."

"Drink it!" The woman brandished a vial, her eyes blazing with icy fury.

John blurted, "What is -?"

Boom!

A long leg whipped out, slamming into John's stomach. Pain exploded across him, a primal scream ripped from his throat, cut short as the potion flooded into his gaping mouth.

The woman snatched her discarded clothes, a swirling pink mist erupting around her as she vanished through the window.

"Fu..." A strangled cry died on John's lips. In the tense silence that followed, he checked his neck, wincing at the angry red kiss of a forming scar.

"Accident? Maybe," he muttered, his voice laced with the chill of a near-death experience. "But that murderous intent was real. I almost wasted my only chance of cheating death. This woman... she's terrifyingly powerful."

He stepped onto the balcony, his eyes scouring the empty trail for any sign of her. His hand trembled as he gripped the balcony railing, his gaze darting nervously between the shadows of the forest. Even with a stunning beauty, sexual relationship meant very little in the world of dark magic. He remembered the countless tales of innocent mages who had been seduced and then discarded, their lives drained for a fleeting moment of pleasure.

John was cautious, nineteen years of hardship had a way teaching you that. He was born into a family of tenant farmer, living hand to mouth. His childhood innocence was shattered the day his stepmother, behind his father's back, sold him into the Order. Without the fortuitous discovery of his latent magical talent during a recruitment drive, he might have become another blood sacrifice, a nameless soul lost in the darkness.

If he could choose, he'd join a righteous tradition, a place like the legendary Temple of the One- the strongest in the known world; but fate had other plans. All he could do was keep his head down, focus on survival, and try to carve out a meager existence.

But a flicker of hope emerged. A year ago, strange changes had begun to manifest around him. He started to see shimmering bubbles - ephemeral orbs of energy, visible only to him, that seemed to spawn from everyday activities: planting herbs, plowing the field, or dispatching the monstrous vermin that infested the valley.

When collected, these bubbles enhanced his connection to the ambient mana, improving his strength, dexterity, and fortitude, as well as granting him experience and insights that honed his ability to channel the elusive energy. He could feel the change within him, the raw, gaseous mana he once struggled to grasp now swirling with a newfound fluidity. The whispers of transformation echoed in his mind, promising a realm of power he had only dreamed of. If he could harness this change, he would ascend to the rank of Wave Weaver, his control over mana becoming as smooth and adaptable as flowing water. His improvement was meteoric, and he was even promoted from an apprentice to a disciple in recognition of his growing potential.

The promotion landed him the job of the guardian of the botanical garden at the Cliff of Broken Love, and allowed him to explore the Order more freely.

"Better to rise quickly and risk exposure than to stagnate and become a pawn." John thought. "Survival is truly for the fittest in a dark conclave."

If you are not careful, you may be killed by your fellow disciples for any silly reasons. Even virginity could be taken. Last night was powerful proof of that.

"Who was she?" He murmured in his mind. "I hope she's not from the Order. Otherwise she might have to kill me out of necessity. That would be bad: to be used and killed, the price of walking the forbidden path..."

His stomach churned, and he squeezed his eyes shut, the memory of her cold eyes and sharp blade flashing before him. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought back the rising tide of humiliation. The enigmatic potion with its bitter, metallic aftertaste, still lingered in his throat. He pushed these thoughts away with a shudder. He had to focus. He had to survive. He had to improve his mastery of mana. With newfound determination, he hurried toward the botanical garden. He had a realm to reach, a mystery to unravel, and a life to protect.