In the smoky tavern of Duvila, a small village in southern Elaria, a man with a white beard and mismatched eyes played a battered guitar.A long crack ran down the body of the instrument, leaking a soft blue glow—pure mana, barely contained.With his raspy voice and enchanted chords, he lured drunks into parting with their coins. His charm spells had lost their edge, but alcohol did the rest.
At the end of the night, he pushed open the tavern door.
And that's when the quiet shattered.
A woman came running through the streets, her hair wild, her eyes wide with panic.
— "Someone, please help!!" — she screamed, before spotting the bard.
She stumbled and fell to her knees in front of him.
— "P-Please… my brother… he was taken!"
The bard raised an eyebrow.
— "Sorry, I'm just a bard. What could I possibly do?"He paused, tilting his head.— "But… how much are you willing to pay?"
The woman quickly pulled a pouch from her waist.
— "This… this is all I have. Please, help me!"
The bard's eyes lit up at the clink of coins.
— "Wait for me inside the tavern. Your brother will be returned—limbs intact… probably."
Rain had left the path muddy. The bard followed the trail until he found five distinct footprints in the wet earth.The smallest set continued down the road—likely the woman's.The other four veered off into the woods.
He followed the obvious choice: the dark path.
Deeper in the forest, strange whispers echoed—words twisted by magic or another tongue.Peering from behind a tree, he saw three hooded figures surrounding a boy, tied and unconscious.A red magic circle pulsed beneath him.Above floated a rift in the air, as if the sky itself had been torn open.
— "What the hell is that…" — the bard muttered.
The crimson aura burned with old power. Alive. Hungry.But he wasn't here for curiosity. He was here for coin.
Slinging his guitar forward, he plucked a high note.A blue mana arrow shot from the instrument and pierced the chest of the hooded figure standing behind the boy.
The other two reacted immediately.One rushed him with a dagger.The other began casting.
The bard struck another note—sharper this time.A wave of sonic magic rippled through the air, slamming into the charging cultist.The man collapsed, screaming as blood poured from his ears.
— "AHHH, MY EARS, YOU PIE—"
CRACK.
Before he could finish, the bard smashed his guitar across the man's skull.
But the spell was already loose.A red sphere of mana came barreling toward him.He tried to block with his guitar, but he was too slow.
It hit his left shoulder, exploding in a flash of searing energy.
Pain tore through him. His arm dangled by a thread of flesh, barely attached.
He staggered.
Looked at the burn. At his limp arm.
— "Well, shit… how am I supposed to play now?"
With a grunt, he ripped the arm off completely.No scream. No tears. Just clenched teeth.Blue light swirled around the wound, sealing it almost instantly.Only a few drops of blood had fallen.
With his remaining hand, he aimed the guitar again—fired another arrow of mana.
Right into the caster's skull.
Silence returned. The circle dimmed.The rift above trembled… and vanished.
The bard approached the boy and untied him.
— "Can you stand, kid?"
— "Y-Yeah..."
Back in the village, the bard waited as the boy fetched the promised payment.He returned, grateful, and handed over the pouch.
— "Thank you so much, sir! Here—take this too."
He pulled a pendant from his pocket. It was dark, faintly pulsing, etched with the same marks as the ritual circle.
— "They put it on me during the ritual. Might be worth something..."
— "What's your name?" — the boy asked, eyes wide.
The bard smirked, placing his only hand on his hat.
— "Just a wandering bard who enjoys adventure."
And with that, he turned, walking down the road that led away from the village.
The sky dimmed as he walked.
He glanced at his shoulder—what was left of it—and muttered:
— "I'm getting rusty…"— "Or maybe it's that red mana… Looks like I'll have to find out myself."