2025-04-26 22:10:09Morning arrived, and Eryndor woke up feeling refreshed. He stretched, smiling, as this was his first good night's sleep since arriving in Solaris.
He headed to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, bathed, and changed into clean clothes. Downstairs, the innkeeper greeted him warmly. "Good morning! Breakfast is ready." Eryndor's curiosity grew. "What's on the menu?" "Mashed potatoes with diced tomatoes, carrots, and a slab of boar meat," she replied. Eryndor's stomach rumbled loudly, as if on cue. The innkeeper chuckled. "I think you're hungry! I'll add an extra plate for you." Eryndor grinned, embarrassed but relieved. "Thank you, I'm starving." The innkeeper smiled and led him to the dining area. As they sat down, Eryndor noticed the cozy atmosphere and the enticing aroma of food. "Your cooking smells amazing," he said. The innkeeper beamed. "I'm glad you think so. My name is Elara, by the way." "I'm Eryndor," he replied, shaking her hand. Elara handed him a steaming plate. "Enjoy your meal!" Eryndor dug in, savoring the flavors. This was the very first decent meal he had gotten ever since he came to this world. After finishing his meal, Eryndor approached Elara, who was wiping down the tables. "Excuse me, Elara. Can you tell me how to get to the Adventurers Guild?" Eryndor asked. Elara looked up, curious. "You want to become an adventurer?" Eryndor nodded. "Yes, I do." Elara's expression turned serious. "It's not an easy life. Many adventurers don't return from missions." Eryndor's determination didn't waver. "I'll be careful." Elara nodded, handing him a rough map. "The guild is three blocks east, near the city gate. Look for the sign with a sword and shield." Eryndor studied the map, committing it to memory. "Thank you, Elara. I'll be careful," he promised. Elara smiled, her concern evident. "Come back alive, Eryndor." Eryndor grinned, shouldering his backpack. "I will." With a final nod, Eryndor left the Silver Stag Inn and headed east. As he walked, the city's sounds and smells surrounded him: merchants hawking goods, hammering on metal, and the aroma of fresh bread. Eryndor's excitement grew. Becoming an adventurer would lead him to new challenges and opportunities. He turned a corner, spotting the guild building ahead. A large sign creaked in the wind, bearing the image of a sword and shield. Eryndor's heart quickened. This was it.. his first step towards becoming an adventurer. Eryndor pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the Adventurers Guild. The room buzzed with activity, filled with people clad in leather armor, armed with swords, bows, spears, and magic staffs. No one spared him a second glance as he made his way through the crowd. Eryndor approached the receptionist table, where a stern-looking woman with a quill pen and parchment awaited. "Name?" she asked curtly. "Eryndor Thorne," he replied. "Origin?" she asked. "From the village of Brindlemark," Eryndor fabricated. "Skills?" "Archery and swordsmanship," he said confidently. The receptionist nodded, scribbling notes. "Any previous experience?" Eryndor spun a tale of battling bandits on the road. The receptionist listened intently, her expression unreadable. Once finished, she handed him a wooden badge with the letter "F" etched onto it. "Welcome, Eryndor Thorne. You're now a rank F adventurer." "What does the 'F' stand for?" Eryndor asked. "Freshman," she replied with a hint of a smile. "To rank up, complete missions and earn experience. For now, rank F adventurers receive missions worth 2 silver coins." Eryndor nodded, tucking the badge into his belt. "Check the mission board for available jobs," she instructed. Eryndor scanned the room, spotting a large wooden board covered in postings. He headed towards it, excitement coursing through his veins. Time to start his adventuring career. Eryndor approached the mission board, scanning the postings for F-rank adventures. Several caught his eye, but one stood out: "Noble Seeks Wind-Wolf Hides Reward, 20 Silver Coins Requirements, 10 Wind-Wolf Hides Description, Lord Harrington requires wind-wolf hides for his mansion's decoration. Wind-wolves roam the Windy Plains, 1 day east of Kryptoria." Eryndor's eyes narrowed. Wind-wolves, legendary creatures with wind manipulation abilities, would make valuable additions to his growing army. He imagined taking down the Alpha wind-wolf, claiming dominance, and commanding the pack. "This is the mission for me," Eryndor thought. He tore off a tab from the posting, bearing the mission details, and headed to the guild's mission desk. A bored-looking clerk accepted the tab and handed Eryndor a formal mission document. "Missions can be cancelled if deemed too difficult," the clerk warned. "But Lord Harrington's offer is generous. Good luck." Eryndor pocketed the document, determination burning within. Conquering the wind-wolves would demonstrate his strength and pave the way for future conquests. As he exited the guild, Eryndor mentally prepared for the challenge. Windy Plains, here I come. * Inside King Ryker's throne room, a tense meeting unfolded. Nobles and military generals gathered around the large oak table, their faces etched with concern. King Ryker slammed his fist on the table. "We can't ignore the elven envoys' plea for aid. The dark force threatens us all." Lord Thomas, a stout noble, opposed, "Your Majesty, committing troops to the Dark Forest will drain our resources. We have our own borders to protect." General Adolph, a seasoned warrior, countered, "But if we don't act, the darkness will spread. We must support the elves." Lady Catherine, a wise noblewoman, suggested, "Perhaps a smaller contingent, specially trained for forest warfare?" Lord James, a hawkish noble, argued, "That's tokenism. We need to send a strong message: Kryptoria stands against darkness." King Ryker's face reddened. "I will not risk unnecessary lives. We must balance our interests." General Adolph pressed on, "Your Majesty, consider the long-term gains. A united front against darkness will strengthen our alliances." Lord Thomas retorted, "Alliances built on bloodshed and treasure? No, thank you." Lady Catherine intervened, "Gentlemen, please. We're forgetting the elven envoys' warning: this darkness threatens our very existence." The room fell silent as King Ryker's gaze swept the assembly. "I will not decide alone. We'll put this to a vote." Nobles and generals exchanged weighted glances. "Who supports aiding the elves?" King Ryker asked. General Adolph and Lady Catherine raised their hands, followed by several others. "Who opposes?" Lord Thomas and Lord James voted against. The room divided, with some abstaining. King Ryker's expression turned resolute. "We'll send a modest force, 500 men, to support the elves. General Adolph, prepare our troops." General Adolph nodded, determination etched on his face. Lord Thomas scowled, "This will be a grave mistake." The meeting concluded, the fate of Kryptoria's involvement hanging precariously.
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Chapter 93. We Work Together
The council chamber of New Elyria was alive with voices even before Eryndor entered. Torches burned along the stone walls, shadows dancing across the long table where elves, goblins, centaurs, orcs, harpies, and humans sat side by side. It was a sight no one in the Eastern Continent would have believed, that so many races, once bitter enemies, now sat together under one roof.But unity was fragile, and tonight it trembled.The doors swung open. Eryndor stepped inside, his golden hair catching the torchlight, his silver armor gleaming. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. Behind him walked Lucius, ever calm and watchful, and Grimp, the hobgoblin who had been with Eryndor from the very beginning. Isabella, once a princess, now sat at his right hand, her gaze steady.Eryndor sat at the head of the table and folded his hands. “Speak,” he said simply. “What troubles you?”A human councilor, Lord Branwell, rose first. His face was pale, his fingers trembling as he held a parchmen
Chapter 92. The Alliance
The great hall of Valebridge Keep groaned under the weight of voices. Flames burned in golden braziers, casting long shadows across the round table where twelve kings sat in heavy chairs carved with the sigils of their kingdoms. The banners of the Southern Continent—wolves, lions, spears, suns, and towers—hung overhead, but tonight they did not bring pride. Tonight they were reminders of what could be lost.The fall of Draemir had shaken them. The destruction of Kelthorn only days later left no doubt—this was no common war. An evil sorcereress was here in their continent.. and she had brought hell with her.King Harland of Valebridge, the host, rose first. His silver beard spilled over his chest, and his iron crown gleamed. He slammed his hand on the table.“Brothers! We cannot sit idle. The shadow spreads with every sunrise. If we do nothing, our people will be cattle to that witch before the season ends.”Murmurs of agreement rippled through the chamber. But King Rhogar of Stonevale
Chapter 91. Duskmar's First Campaign
The night was darker than a grave. Clouds swallowed the moon, and no stars gave light. The world felt smothered, as though it already belonged to the shadow. Marching feet broke the silence, steady and relentless, like the beating of a single heart. At the front rode General Duskmar, his armor black as coal, his helm carved into the shape of a skull. Behind him stretched thousands of soldiers, once men and women, now bound in chains of shadow, their eyes glowing a sickly white. They did not speak. They did not breathe. They only obeyed.The army stopped when the first torch of Kelthorn flickered in the distance. It was a small farming town surrounded by low stone walls. Chickens clucked in coops, farmers snored in their beds, and lazy guards strolled along the ramparts with half-shut eyes. To them, this was just another peaceful night. To Duskmar, it was the beginning of conquest.He raised his black steel blade, and his voice carried like thunder.“Tonight, this town falls. Half of i
Chapter 90. The Shadow Returns
The great meeting hall of Eryndor’s keep was built of stone and timber, decorated with banners of every tribe, clan, and kin who had sworn loyalty to him. Wolves’ heads, harpy feathers, goblin marks, elven leaves, symbols of unity that once seemed impossible. The torches burned warmly along the walls, but the faces gathered around the table were serious.At the head of the long oak table sat Eryndor, the blonde elf whose calm strength had drawn beasts and men alike under his banner. At his right hand sat Lucius, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, his armor gleaming faintly in the torchlight. Beside him was Grimp, the hobgoblin who had followed Eryndor since the beginning, his tusked mouth pulled into a permanent scowl that disguised his loyalty.Further down sat Isabella, the former princess of Kryptoria, her beauty regal even in her simple gown, her hand resting lightly on Eryndor’s arm. Across from her, a wide circle of representatives, a centaur chieftain, a wolfkin matriarch, an orc
Chapter 89. Birth Of BlackRaven
The palace of Draemir was no longer a place of light. Once, its marble walls had gleamed in the morning sun, banners of the royal house fluttering proudly above its towers. Now the stone was stained with black veins of crawling shadow, and the banners had been burned to ash. The great hall, where kings once sat, was drowned in darkness that pulsed like a living heart.At the center stood Sorceress Lyra Moonwhisper.Her silver hair shimmered faintly against the gloom, her crimson eyes glowing like embers in a furnace. Around her knelt hundreds of soldiers clad in black, their armor ink-like, their eyes empty hollows. The Shadow Legion. They waited in silence, still as statues.At the front knelt a towering figure—General Duskmar, her chosen blade, his armor marked with runes that devoured light. His voice was deep and steady.“My mistress. The Legion is ready. Say the word, and they will march.”Lyra’s lips curved into a smile. “Good. But ready is not enough. The world must tremble whe
Chapter 88. Fear in Rakeshire
The town of Rakeshire always smelled of bread and river water. Every morning the air was filled with the sound of fishermen calling out, merchants shouting prices in the square, and children running through narrow cobbled streets. To strangers, it seemed like a place far away from war, far away from the darkness spreading across the lands.But for King Eisblish, the quiet streets were a cage.He walked through the marketplace, his cloak drawn low, his silver-gray beard tucked into his collar. Every step reminded him he was no longer a king. He was a man in hiding. At his side strode his son, Prince Arin, tall and sharp-eyed, his hair the same pale gold that marked him as royal.“Father,” Arin muttered, glancing at a group of blacksmiths hammering iron. “Do you see the way they look at us? They know we’re not from here.”Eisblish didn’t raise his eyes. “Keep your voice down, Arin. The less people notice us, the longer we live.”Arin’s jaw tightened. “Living? You call this living? Hidin
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