Riyan now stood before the dark figure, dressed entirely in black.
The flickering torchlight cast sharp shadows across his face, making his young eyes glimmer with a strange fire.
The man seated on the throne spoke in a deep, echoing voice,
"Riyan Black, your first task will be your trial — you must steal a scroll of technology from the Everila Palace.
No one will suspect a child. No one will see you coming."
Riyan nodded silently, accepting the mission without hesitation.
The others around the chamber laughed quietly,
"Congratulations to the new lion on his first mission!"
Riyan's voice was firm. "I will do it alone."
The man on the throne smiled faintly,
"That's exactly what I expected… Black."
It was evening.
At the grand gates of the palace, several guards and commanders stood alert — every gaze watchful, every step full of vigilance.
The last rays of the sun spread a crimson glow across the stone walls.
Riyan, now known as "Black," arrived there in his black clothes. In a soft, humble voice, he said,
"My name is Black… I am a laborer, an orphan, looking for food."
The commander looked him up and down — a thin, tired boy. There was no fear in his eyes, only a mix of hunger and exhaustion.
A moment of pity crossed the commander's face, and he nodded. "Go inside."
Riyan bowed his head slightly and walked in.
As night fell, the palace's vigilance grew tighter — torches lit up every corridor, guards stood posted on every rooftop.
But no one knew that, in that same darkness, a small boy was quietly about to begin something far greater than anyone could imagine.
The silence of the night had wrapped itself around the palace.
On the walls of the Technology Chamber, blue flames flickered faintly, casting eerie shadows that danced in the corners.
Riyan — or as everyone now called him, "Black" — stepped inside cautiously.
His footsteps made no sound, and his eyes were fixed on one thing — the scroll of technology.
He had just lifted the scroll from the table when suddenly—
a figure cloaked in black appeared before him.
Its face was hidden in darkness, only two glowing eyes visible — cold and sharp.
Riyan froze.
The figure slowly advanced, and a sword gleamed in its hand.
The faint metallic ring tore through the stillness of the room.
Without a thought, Riyan darted toward the other door and ran.
Behind him echoed the clatter of boots, the flicker of torches, and the shouts of guards —
"Intruder! Catch the intruder!"
The entire palace erupted in alarm.
But by then, Black had already leaped over the back wall and plunged into the fast-flowing river below.
The cold water swallowed him whole.
On the palace rampart, the dark figure appeared, gazing down at the river.
She watched for a moment, then spoke in a cold voice —
"That little rat… must be dead by now."
From behind, soldiers and General Kaelthorn came rushing in.
"Your Majesty!" the general said, catching his breath, "The intruder has escaped!"
The dark figure — none other than Elara — smiled faintly and said,
"He may be dead… or maybe…"
She paused for a moment, her eyes gleaming beneath the hood.
"…the story has just begun."
Riyan stumbled out of the river, panting heavily. His entire body was soaked, his breaths ragged and sharp.
Shaking the water from his hair, he muttered softly,
"If I weren't the disciple of the Soul Master… I would've died here today."
Then, from the small pouch strapped to his back, he pulled out two scrolls —
one completely black, pulsing with a mysterious aura, and the other glowing with a shimmering red light.
Looking at them carefully, he smiled faintly and said,
"One will stay with me… and the other I'll hand over to that dark man."
There was exhaustion in his eyes, but also a strange gleam —
Riyan sat down at the riverbank, still panting. The chill of the water had seeped into his bones, yet a faint smile remained on his lips.
He placed both scrolls in front of him — the black one, which seemed to throb with enigmatic energy, and the red one, which glimmered with a radiant glow.
For a while, he stared at them, as if a decision were being wrestled within him.
Finally, he took a deep breath and said,
"This red one… it's too bright, too flashy. I shouldn't keep it."
Then his gaze settled on the black scroll.
"This one is mysterious… darkness always hides secrets,"
he murmured, and carefully tucked the black scroll back into his pouch.
The cold night breeze brushed against his face, and a single thought echoed in his mind —
"From now on, darkness is my path."
As he opened the black scroll, a sudden flash of light enveloped him, and he found himself in an artificial-looking place. A winding staircase spiraled upward before him, and a voice echoed softly, calling out,
"Come…"