"Who are you?"
The first reaction to everything that had just unfolded came from the man leading a crowd of over a hundred people. His eye twitching in rage, the bandit leader shouted, unnerved by the creeping darkness seizing his soul.
"You need not know my name. Just remember that I am the one sending you to the netherworld!"
"Attack! Kill him!"
The old man was not making idle threats. Letting his gaze sweep over the village for a few moments, he spoke.
"I thank you for allowing me to dwell among you these past ten years. As has been the story of my entire life, I have once again failed to protect the things I hold dear. But have no fear—the boy you left behind shall not share your fate!"
As his words faded, the old man bowed slightly in respect to the burning village. He drew a deep breath, and with his right hand—now morphed into a dragon claw—he unleashed a downward slash.
The motion was identical to the strike that had diced the horse and its rider moments ago, but its area of effect was immeasurably greater. Where the village once stood, three massive chasms now scarred the earth, stretching for at least a thousand paces from where the old man stood.
This time, the very earth quaked, and whatever was caught in the tempest generated by the strike was ripped to shreds and blasted into the heavens. The bloody mist rising from the village barely revealed a hint of its color before it was swallowed by the storm.
The devastation he unleashed was catastrophic, but the old man knew the shockwave would not be confined to the area before his eyes.
Far away—perhaps millions of paces distant—the light surrounding a crystal coffin, encircled by thousands of candles, was extinguished.
Along with the dying candles, the eyes of the man lying within the coffin, his face drained of all blood, snapped open.
"Heir!"
The day after the village was erased from existence, in a cave deep within a valley draped in lush vegetation, a man waited quietly beside a frail boy.
This place was much larger than the small cavern Mel had previously taken shelter in. Its ceiling, reaching several times the height of a grown man, was studded with glowing stones that banished the darkness.
Aside from this feature bathing the interior in light, a myriad of fragrances danced through the air, stirring every pure emotion within a person, as if they were wandering through a celestial garden.
There truly was a rich variety of blossoms all around, thriving in the soil nourished by the crystal-clear waters of the small stream flowing through the cave.
"Are you awake?"
Even though the old man knew the boy resting on his lap had opened his eyes, he could not help but ask.
"Grandpa! Mom, Dad, the whole village...!"
Mel burst into sobs. He had slept hoping everything was merely a nightmare, but now that he had awakened, the bitter truth crushed his spirit—it had all happened.
The old man spoke not a word. He simply allowed the boy, whose pent-up emotions forced him to weep until his tears ran dry, to experience his grief.
Though the concept of time seemed to lose its meaning inside the cave, after quite a while, the frail boy finally managed to compose himself.
"Mel, I'm sorry you had to witness all of this at such a young age. I suppose you've realized by now just how cruel this world truly is. I have one final mission I must carry out, and I need your help to fulfill it, little one. Will you be my heir?"
When the old man finally discovered the reason that had kept him rooted to this exact spot for ten years, he knew exactly what must be done. Between his failing body and advancing age, this was inevitable.
"Grandpa, is this a good thing?"
It was obvious that Mel was oblivious to the reality of the situation, but when it came time to make his choice, he placed his trust in his grandfather, the one person he always felt safe with.
"Yes. In fact, it's the best possible path for you."
That answer was all he needed. Nodding his head to signal his consent, the young boy rested his head back upon his grandfather's lap and drifted off to sleep.
When he awoke, he found himself in a different place alongside his grandfather. He was sitting cross-legged upon a high stone altar right in the center of a small chamber, illuminated only by a handful of candles.
Looking at his grandfather standing directly across from him, Mel flinched—perhaps for the first time ever—because of the man. Seeing the deep cuts covering the old man's body and his hands drenched in the blood flowing from his wrists, he screamed.
"Grandpa, what happened to you?"
Despite looking as though he were at death's door, the old man managed a smile. Unable to simply sit there, Mel reached out to help him, only to realize that his own arm was covered in strange symbols he had never seen before.
It was not just his arm; his entire body was branded with arcane markings. Their crimson hue was an undeniable testament that the old man's blood had been used as the ink to draw them.
"Begin!"
Staring at his own body in bewilderment, the boy felt the old man's hand press against his forehead at the exact same moment he heard his roar. The next second, the chamber was blinded by a flash of light, and his cross-legged body felt as if it had been cast straight down a bottomless abyss.
Overwhelmed by the sensation of a free fall, Mel's unconscious state did not last long. The moment his feet touched solid ground, his eyes snapped open, and he found himself standing before a colossal temple.
"Grandpa, where are you?"
Those were the very first words to leave his lips. As he stood before the great doors of the temple, whose roof rested upon massive marble pillars and seemed to pierce the heavens, he could not help but worry about the old man.
"Enter, Mel!"
The moment he heard that familiar voice, the scrawny boy threw himself through the doors without a second thought. There, the silhouette of his grandfather was cast against a stone pedestal.
"Who are you? Where's my grandpa?"
When he reached the person who had called out to him, Mel was met with yet another astonishing sight. Right where the old man with his unkempt hair and matted beard should have been, there stood a young man. His black hair was neatly braided, and he stood tall in a majestic robe embroidered with a green dragon soaring toward the heavens.
"It is me—or rather, the person I was hundreds of years ago! Do not fear; once the ritual is complete, you shall understand everything! Begin your walk and embrace your new destiny, little one!"
Spurred on by the man standing upon the pedestal tucked inside an alcove carved directly into the massive wall, Mel slowly began to put one foot in front of the other.
After a few dozen paces, he continued his advance without pause until he reached another alcove waiting for him.
The walls of the grand corridor were lined with marble so dazzling it could blind a person, rivaling even the temple's magnificent entrance.
In stark contrast to the entrance and the walls, the path Mel tread upon looked as unkempt and rugged as a dirt trail formed naturally in the wild. Looking down at the ground, bewildered by this contradiction, the boy suddenly halted mid-step.
Struck by a blast of scorching air, Mel threw his hands over his head in panic. Spinning around as if caught in a vortex, the scrawny boy looked up at the pedestal. Standing there was a statue with hair dancing in the phantom wind and eyes projecting a powerful gaze that seemed to challenge the heavens and the earth.
The statue was the source of the sensation that had just made him flinch in terror; even though it did not literally burn him, an energy erupted from where the pedestal stood, striking fear straight into his core.
"I have to keep moving. I have to listen to Grandpa!"
Steeling his resolve, Mel resumed his advance. On this journey, he encountered seven more alcoves exactly like the two he had already left behind.
Waiting for another one after the ninth alcove, this time there was only the endless path stretching out before him. He walked a distance equal to what he had covered since the beginning, but nothing appeared.
After the ninth pedestal, the corridor transformed. The walls had lost their pristine glow, now resembling nothing more than a clumsily carved cave wall.
The path, on the other hand, shone so bright that Mel could not take a single step without squinting hard. It was as if the natural order of things had been inverted.
When he finally reached the end of the road, a statue at least ten times the size of the previous ones greeted him. Every curve and contour was carved with elegance; it was a statue so majestic it would leave anyone who laid eyes upon it awestruck.
The colossal pedestal it stood upon was crafted in a manner truly fitting for it; even the tiniest figure engraved into its milky-white surface was the product of peerless artistry.
Unable to resist, eleven-year-old Mel was drawn toward the statue like a ship pulled into a maelstrom out in the open sea.