Aldric was currently in the eastern part of the Blood Fang Mountains Region.
This land was known for its distinctive red mountains. From a distance, the peaks looked as if they had been dyed in blood. Under the sun, the ridges glowed crimson, creating an atmosphere that was both majestic and intimidating.
For mortals, the mountains were harsh and dangerous, filled with wild beasts and rough terrain. For arcanists, however, the Blood Fang Mountains held a different kind of significance.
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In the world of arcanists, there were ten ranks.
1. Novice Arcanist
2. Apprentice Arcanist
3. Adept Arcanist
4. Scholar Arcanist
5. Expert Arcanist
6. Master Arcanist
7. Grandmaster Arcanist
8. Arch Arcanist
9. Mythic Arcanist
10. Eternal Arcanist
These ranks formed the foundation of all power. Each step forward was not just a simple increase in strength, but a qualitative leap. A novice arcanist and an apprentice arcanist were not just one step apart—they were separated by a chasm. The same was true for every rank beyond.
The higher one climbed, the greater the gap became. It was said that even a single Grandmaster Arcanist could crush an entire kingdom's army with their own power. That was the level of influence they carried.
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The Blood Fang Mountains had gained fame because of a rumor.
It was said that long ago, a Grandmaster Arcanist had fallen here, leaving behind an inheritance hidden within the crimson peaks. Nobody knew the truth of the story, but the rumor spread far and wide.
Over the years, countless people had come to search. Most returned with nothing. Still, the hope of unimaginable treasure continued to draw people in.
Eventually, a small village was founded on the eastern side of the mountains. It began as nothing more than a camp where treasure seekers rested, but with the steady stream of adventurers, merchants, and wanderers, it grew into a settlement. The village survived for ten years, even though nobody had found the supposed inheritance.
Then, one day, everything changed.
An Expert Arcanist who had been exploring the region stumbled upon a rare treasure. With it, he broke through to the rank of Master Arcanist.
This single event shook the region. For years, the inheritance had been dismissed by some as nothing more than a legend. But now, with proof of treasure surfacing, the rumor was reignited with greater force than ever before.
Factions across the land turned their eyes toward the Blood Fang Mountains. Clans, sects, and kingdoms all sent envoys and explorers, each hoping to claim a share of the inheritance.
After all, the legacy of a Grandmaster was no trivial matter. Even a single item could shift the balance of power for an entire faction.
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Aldric had arrived in this land not as a seeker of treasure, but as a slave.
He had originally been part of a caravan that traveled from the Kingdom of Duskendale. The caravan had been filled with merchants, guards, and slaves bound by chains. Aldric had been among the latter, wretched and forgotten.
That caravan was what had brought him into the Blood Fang Mountains.
Now, however, things were different.
Though he still wore ragged clothing, the chains were gone. His body no longer bore the weakness of slavery. His back was straight, his steps steady, his eyes calm. He looked nothing like the broken boy who had once been dragged along as property.
A transformation had taken place within him, one that the world around him had yet to realize.
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But despite his new power and the treasures he carried, Aldric had no intention of joining the hunt for the Grandmaster's inheritance.
The thought alone was reckless. The factions now sending envoys into the mountains were filled with arcanists far more powerful than him. Even if he had luck on his side, stepping into that struggle would only make him prey.
He was still at the very beginning of his journey. Though he had awakened as an arcanist and chosen the Creation Path, he was barely at the lowest rank. In front of true experts, he was fragile, like a candle in the wind.
For him, chasing after treasures hidden deep within the mountains was meaningless.
Aldric knew this clearly. He did not need to gamble his life on rumors. His path would not be built on scraps left behind by others, but on steady growth, step by step.
For now, survival was more important than ambition.
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The Blood Fang Mountains stretched endlessly to the west. Beyond its ridges, countless dangers and mysteries awaited. But for Aldric, the path forward did not lie there.
His goal was not the inheritance of a Grandmaster. It was simply to understand his own power, to walk his path, and to carve a future for himself.
And so, as the world's attention gathered on the mountains and the inheritance hidden within, Aldric quietly turned his gaze elsewhere.
His journey was only beginning.
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