Black Dust Mountain pressed ominously against the skyline.
Its rugged silhouette was ever shrouded in an otherworldly aura. This aura was a heart-pulsing sensation that was born from a single glance at the mountain.
This was an instinctive feeling, capable of inducing a chill down one's spine or raising one's pores.
The mountain's slopes were steep and jagged, covered in fine, black dust particles that wafted through the air. This dark dust, its origin unknown, glimmered under the sunlight, creating an almost shimmering effect that cascaded down the rocky terrain.
At its peak, the mountain loomed like a sentinel over the surrounding landscape, often hidden by swirling mists that cling to its summit.
Jagged cliffs jutted out dramatically, and the vegetation around Black Dust Mountain was sparse, with hardy shrubs and resilient grasses struggling to thrive.
There was the solitary tree that appeared occasionally, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers against the backdrop of the darkened earth.
In the past two hundred years, many have traveled to Black Dust Mountain. It is said that a Mythical Figure of humanity resided here, protecting the nearby villages and towns from the ruination brought about by Fiend waves.
With the setting of the sun, the mountain shaped into a more sinister appearance, casting long shadows and creating an atmosphere of mystery that called out to brave adventurers to its foreboding slopes.
"Ugh..." groaning with discomfort, a young man, seemingly of fifteen or sixteen years of age, stumbled multiple steps back.
He had tan skin and his black hair stuck against his forehead. He stared intensely toward a shadowy figure that approached.
Less than a dozen or so meters away, another young boy stepped into the moonlight.
He appeared even younger, maybe thirteen or so, with blonde hair tied into a ponytail and crystal blue eyes. His features were delicate, and his eyes were hypnotic.
"Big brother, I think this is enough." The blonde-haired boy's voice was akin to a soothing whisper.
The worry in his eyes was obvious as well.
Cain perceived his younger brother's worry and coldly snorted.
In truth, though the blonde-haired boy before him was younger, Cain was the last to be apprenticed by the master of this Black Dust Mountain.
Of the three disciples, he was, undisputedly, the weakest.
However, his desire for power was much greater than his two seniors put together.
The boy before him was the youngest, so it could still be ignored, but in a world like this, where the human race was constantly threatened and could face extinction at any given moment, it was utterly disgusting that the senior disciple, the most powerful of the master's disciples, was unwilling to descend the mountain and assist humanity.
Not only was this cowardice, but it was utterly selfish as well.
Cain could not accept this.
Not after what those damn Fiends had done to him!
"Again." He growled.
Grunting, Cain lunged toward the thirteen-year-old boy.
His speed was unnaturally fast, and he crossed the distance of twelve or so meters in the blink of an eye. This speed of acceleration was beyond any human on Earth before the apocalypse.
When he punched, the air crackled with heat, and the flickers of a yellow flame would leave burns on his opponents.
However, the youngest brother was his direct counter.
The sound of gushing water entered the vicinity as the youngest parried Cain's right fist with the back of his left hand, and the latter's left fist with the back of his right.
Cain roared out with indignation and stomped his left foot onto the dirt, leaving a sizzling sound in his wake, and kicked out with his right leg.
His entire foot was bathed in flames, leaving behind fiery tendrils in its wake as it approached the blonde-haired boy's face.
However, the youngest disciple was akin to a formless blob of water that could twist and turn in the most unnatural angles.
The duo continued their exchange, and Cain continuously failed to land a proper strike.
Atop a solitary tree, a slender figure draped in the shadowy darkness of Black Dust Mountain, amplified by the night sky, stood with a solemn expression.
The dark hair cascading down his back fluttered in the chilly night air, and his long lashes gave off the vibe of a delicate beauty, but more striking than all of it were his eyes.
They were barely open, and there were dark circles under them; however, he lacked irises, making his pupils appear perpetually large, and they were a bright shade of unique color.
Eyes of crimson were not completely out of place in this world; however, it still spurred on the desire for a second glance, especially when paired with the rest of this body.
His skin was sickly pale, to the point that it did not appear the least bit healthy, but it somehow complemented his overall, gloomy appearance, enhancing a particular charm unique to him.
He coldly observed with his blood-colored eyes the two junior brothers below, showing no signs of intervening even though the blonde-haired boy was clearly unwilling to continue sparring.
Cain's back slammed against the dark soil.
The exchange came to an abrupt stop the instant the youngest disciple's fist struck Cain's chest, unleashing an overwhelming force that mercilessly sent his body tumbling several meters across the ground.
Releasing a pained groan, he choked on a mouthful of blood before slowly sitting up.
"Little Doyle, take him to the healing chamber," a frigid voice resounded in the darkness, "If he's beaten any more, you'll have to drag his unconscious body up the mountain."
Cain immediately sent a glare in the direction this voice originated.
The expressions on Doyle's face changed. The youngest disciple turned toward the figure that silently stood atop the solitary tree.
Adorned in fitted clothing, the moonlight fell on his figure, highlighting his unnaturally pale skin. An expressionless face stared at the duo below.
Doyle squinted his eyes, his expression unreadable.
Whether he was resentful toward this eldest disciple or not, remained unknown.
However, his previously expressive eyes, which clearly showed emotions of worry toward Cain, had gone completely cold when meeting the icy gaze of his eldest senior brother.
"Tch," as Cain heard his words, a deep scowl spread across his face. "Dear eldest brother, please stop intruding in the matters of others. If you were so caring, you would've long descended the mountain and assisted the innocents dying with every Fiend wave."
Lucien remained silent for a while, seemingly deep in thought.
"I'm only worried that dragging your unconscious body all the way up the mountain would be too strenuous for little Doyle." In saying so, he mockingly smiled and continued, "As to why you still can't defeat an immature and weak little Doyle? Well... oh, well."
His laughter creepily echoed in the darkness of the Black Dust Mountain.
"And descending the mountain?" Tilting his head, he asked with audible doubt in his voice, "What does that have to do with you?"
Upon declaring this, his figure abruptly transformed into a blur.
The branch he stood on was left to sway violently, threatening to break under the pressure exerted by his legs.
His figure swiftly disappeared from the duo's sight.
Silence drowned the surroundings for a while.
Breaking this silence, Doyle suggested, "Elder brother, it's getting late. I think we should head to the healing chamber..."
Thinking for a moment, he quickly added, "We need to attend dinner with the master as well."
Though he clicked his tongue with annoyance, Cain did not oppose Doyle's words.
.....
At the peak of Black Dust Mountain was an unnaturally large shrine built from dark stone. The aura of mystery it radiated seamlessly merged with the mountain's ominous air.
The entrance was marked by towering statues forged from dark stone as well. These statues were of humanoid figures with monstrous faces, demonstrating a multitude of unique stances.
Inside the shrine, the walls were illuminated by soft, flickering lanterns that hung from the ceiling, their warm light contrasting with the dark stone.
The atmosphere was tranquil, almost ethereal.
It was as if time had come to a halt.
There was a mat spread out at the center of the hall, with several plates of different meats across the mat.
Four figures sat surrounding the food, but only two ate, their expressions filled with contentment.
Lucien sat with his legs folded, assuming a lotus position.
His eyes were still unnervingly emotionless, and his face, expressionless. He observed Doyle and Cain stuffing their faces with the different kinds of meat.
Almost as if perceiving his gaze, "Tch, why do you keep staring at me?" Cain angrily shouted, still chewing on a piece of meat.
"Don't speak while you're eating."
However, it wasn't Lucien who replied, but an aged voice.
This was an old man with a head full of grey hair and a hunched back. He had dark, wrinkled skin and a pair of hollow eyes.
His teeth were yellow, and his entire frame screamed of starvation and feebleness.
It was a wonder why he, who was clearly in need of nutrients, had not picked up a single piece of meat.
Yet, this was a human who had lived for over three hundred years!