The old man gave Ashen a rough breakdown of the world of Thyrennor.
It was a land made up of many continents that stretches and spans the world's regions.
So far, only one realm had been discovered: the Human Realm, named Aldrion, Heartland of Kings. It was the only realm open and accessible at the moment.
The other realms remained far away, separated either by vast, endless oceans or by mysterious barriers that kept them hidden and unreachable.
As for Aldrion itself, the land was divided by national borders into four major powers:
The Conrad Empire
The Theocratic Nation of Valeria
The Feudal State of Caran
And the Dynasty of Yoltum
These four stood as the superpowers of Aldrion, the ones keeping order and balance.
There were, of course, many smaller nations scattered across the continent, but, as the old man bluntly put it, "No one gives two rats about the insignificant extras."
Ashen leaned forward with interest. "And where exactly is this village located? Which of the four superpowers does it belong to?"
"Neither," the old man answered flatly. "This village sits on No Man's Land!."
Ashen frowned. "No Man's Land?"
The old man nodded slowly. "A place untouched by the revolutions and advancements of the great nations. Most who live here are people too poor to pay the heavy national taxes or to survive under the strict expenses that come with living inside the borders of an established nation. So… they leave.
They come out here and build their own settlements. They survive on their own, free from rules, laws, and obligations."
In other words, people who chose to live outside the system.
"Some call 'em survivalists," the old man muttered.
To Ashen, they were simply nomads. People without a permanent home, living in lands no one wanted.
"The ones ya should really look out for," the old man continued, "are the Magus. But I reckon ya already know that… if ya truly from out there in the world, like ya claim."
Ashen's heart skipped a beat. He forced a nervous laugh. "Oh, uh, yeah… I guess. But hey, since we don't have much to do now, I wouldn't mind learning more from you. You're older, so you must know more than me."
The old man gave him a sharp look. "Ya sure do like remindin' me how old I am, don't ya?"
Ashen chuckled. "Can you blame me?"
Gaius went silent at that. Not offended, just… quiet.
Finally, he said, "There ain't much ya need to know about Magus aside from what's already known."
He explained that Magus were individuals with the ability to wield magic. They drew upon a special energy called mana, which fueled their spells.
"They can control the laws of the elements," Gaius said firmly.
But they weren't limited to elements alone. They could conduct rituals, cast illusions, and perform countless other feats that bent and were within the reach of nature.
Magus, in short, are the supernatural forces of Aldrion. They command respect and fear in equal measure, for they could defy the very laws of the world.
"One thing ya should never do, don't make an enemy of a Magus," the old man warned.
That was all he could offer.
Ashen sighed. Honestly, he had expected more. He thought, following the logic of MMORPGs, that meeting an old man in a random village would lead to a secret quest, a legendary ability, or some hidden event.
Instead, reality had slapped him in the face. This wasn't a game.
The status screen that made everything look like one, it was nothing more than a tool created by The God, shaped that way only because the chosen ones were familiar with the format.
I need to remind myself constantly, Ashen thought. This world is not a game.
Even as he told himself that, his mind still struggled to accept it fully.
He leaned closer. "What about the Undead? Would you consider them Magus as well?"
That was the question he was most curious about.
But the moment it left his mouth, the old man's expression twisted into sheer horror. His wrinkled face stiffened, his body trembled, and his voice cracked.
"Accursed ones," he whispered, his tone dripping with fear. "Undead are beings of darkness. They're Magus who chose to side with the dark."
Ashen stiffened. So the Undead weren't just random monsters, they were corrupted Magus.
The old man explained further. Magus who turned away from good, who embraced destruction, were called Dark Magus. They were despised, hated, and feared even more than the Undead themselves.
In simple terms, the Magus of Aldrion were split into two:
Light Magus – those who did good.
Dark Magus – those who chose evil.
A biased way of seeing things, maybe, but Ashen wasn't here to judge. His role was made clear by The God. To rid the world of the Undead.
"When ya see a Dark Magus," Gaius whispered, still shaking, "never go near. Run. Run as far as ya feet can carry ya."
The old man's body continued to shiver, haunted by memories Ashen could only guess at. Clearly, he had been scarred by encounters with Dark Magus in the past.
Ashen scratched his head. "I get it, old man. But could you please stop shaking? You're seriously creeping me out here."
But his words did nothing. The old man kept trembling, lost in his fear.
Ashen sighed. If words couldn't snap him out of it, then maybe a change of topic could.
"Alright then. What about Skill Users? What do you know about them?"
The God had already explained that chosen ones like Ashen could not wield magic. Since they were not natives of this world, they lacked the right essence to become Magus.
Instead, they were given something else: Skill Slots. With these, they could learn, equip, and even create skills unique to themselves.
Ashen had a gut feeling about this. Something told him that skills were far more important than they appeared.
And judging by the old man's reaction to the word Skill, he was right.
The shivering stopped. The fear in Gaius's eyes cleared. Instead, his gaze sharpened, and a strange light burned within.
"Skill Users," he said firmly, "are gods among Magus."
Ashen blinked. That was… blunt. And probably exaggerated. But as the old man explained further, Ashen realized it wasn't exaggeration at all.
Skill Users stood above Magus. Their abilities were unique, unbound by the same laws that limited magic. They were rare, powerful, and unpredictable.
They could be anything. Do anything. Become anything.
And to think, The God had just summoned a thousand of them into Thyrennor.
Ashen leaned back, stunned.
Without a doubt, the order of this world was about to change forever.