The scorching sun blazed from the sky. Even the wind seemed to burn as it blew.
Riyan was only ten years old, wandering through the city streets, hungry and thirsty. His torn shoes revealed his dust-covered feet. Sweat rolled down his face and trickled to his neck, yet his steps refused to stop.
Then his eyes caught sight of a thin, frail man standing near a paan shop, leisurely chewing paan.
The man looked strange—he wore a tall hat and a thick jacket, both of the same color, like an old soldier's uniform.
Seeing such clothes in this blazing heat made Riyan suspicious. He thought, "Is he crazy? Wearing all that in this weather?"
Riyan stopped and began watching him closely…
The man spoke in a slurred, intoxicated tone, "This boy will work for me."
Riyan had no choice. He didn't pay attention to the noise, the crowd, or the restless atmosphere around him. Without thinking much, he simply nodded in agreement.
The man gave a faint, crooked smile and said, "Come with me."
Riyan followed him silently as they walked away together, disappearing into the narrow, sun-scorched streets.
On the other side Elara, inside the grand hall of the Everila Empire's palace, the atmosphere was tense and grave. Upon the royal throne sat Elara, her presence commanding and calm. To her right stood General Kaelthorn, his strong frame encased in black armor, posture upright, with a sword hanging at his side. On her left sat Minister Thalorin, an elderly man with a wax-like calm face, his long white beard adding dignity to his appearance.
Elara spoke in a cold, confident tone, "Whoever is found practicing weak sorcery—eliminate them."
The soldiers and commanders bowed their heads in unison, responding with a firm, "Yes."
A few moments later, General Kaelthorn hesitated before raising a report. "Your Majesty… incidents from the Dark World are increasing. They keep striking at us again and again. What should we do?"
Elara rose from her throne; a sharp determination gleamed in her smile. In a calm yet decisive voice, she said, "Leave that to me. Whoever crosses your path—destroy them."
The General began to speak again, "Your Majesty—"
Elara interrupted him firmly, "Do not worry. My father failed to suppress it—but I will."
Minister Thalorin, his face grave, said softly, "Your Majesty, forgive me—but this could be dangerous."
Elara looked at him with composed simplicity. "Then tell me, Minister… do you have any other solution?"
The minister fell silent. For a brief moment, his eyes reflected the shadow of an old fear. Then he lowered his gaze and said nothing—like a man who had just sensed the presence of a serpent nearby.
A cold hush spread through the hall.
Other side Riyan,
Riyan was silently led by the man who chewed paan towards a dark cave. As they entered the cave, the torches mounted on the walls cast a pale yellow flame—their flickering light creating intricate shapes in the shadows. Ahead lay a large chamber; in its center was a throne. Behind the throne, black flags fluttered, and all around, several people draped in black clothes stood, forming a strange, silent circle.
The person seated on the throne was entirely in black—his face also covered with black cloth, leaving only thin slits for the eyes. As he rose from behind the veil, a cold seriousness spread throughout the chamber. Riyan stood still, his eyes fixed on that imposing figure. After a few moments of silence, a deep voice echoed from behind the veil, asking, "Child, what is your name?"
Despite fear and nervousness, Riyan replied softly, "Riyan Black."
The person said in a slow, smiling tone, "From now on, among us, you will be called 'Black.'" There was a sense of inevitability and weight in his words.
Near the throne, within the cave, was a small water tank—the cold water gleaming slightly in the torchlight. The leader gestured with his hand and commanded, "Go and bathe."
Riyan's heartbeat quickened. As he moved toward the tank, he thought inwardly—who are these people, and what kind of bond are they about to forge for him? Yet, at this moment, he had no other choice; he stepped quietly and bent toward the water—the uncertainty in his mind echoing like the cool morning air.
The walls of the chamber were heavy with silence,
When Elara, at the age of twenty, sat on the throne of the Everila Empire, at the same time, ten-year-old Riyan Black had escaped from the mines of the Dravaria Empire and entered the Dark World after reaching the Everila Empire.
As of now, both are enemies of each other. But ahead… who knows what game will be played, who will fall into whose trap, and in whose hands their fate will lie—this is not the only mystery that remains.