Whoosh...
A gust of dry, blistering wind howled across the cracked land. The ground, charred black with fissures still glowing a faint ember-red, stretched endlessly under the merciless sun.
It was a place devoid of life, yet filled with danger—a land where only monsters and warriors could exist.
This was the Ashen Expanse.
A lone figure walked across the ruined earth, his polished boots crunching over soot-covered gravel (Soot is a fine, black powder composed mainly of carbon particles, formed when fuels burn incompletely). Despite the unbearable heat that could melt steel, he moved as if strolling through a garden, unaffected and composed.
It was Damien Vaise. He narrowed his sharp blue eyes as he stepped deeper into the wasteland.
This was not where he belonged—his post was in the Cradle—but duty called him here once again.
Today, he had business with 'him'.
The land grew hotter, the air heavier.
Craters, large enough to swallow a house whole, littered the area like wounds on the earth. Some still sizzled with fiery energy, faint smoke rising from their depths, evidence of a recent clash of monstrous proportions.
And at the heart of it all—
A crater, more than 30 meters wide, and within it lay a corpse.
A behemoth of a creature lay sprawled across the battlefield. It was a Black Salamander, a towering monstrosity of molten-black flesh and jagged scales, radiating such immense heat that lesser warriors would faint just by nearing it.
But more than its size or heat, it was its tail that stood out.
Unlike the rest of its body, the tail was covered in ink-black scales, smoother, more refined—unlike a salamander, but rather like a dragon's tail.
It was a tail Dragon.
This creature was a legend among corrupted beings, feared for its unparalleled destructive might. It was said to have been born from the piece of tailbone of a fallen dragon from the past.
Having terrorized the Vaise dukedom's borders for years, now, it lay dead.
Atop its still-smoking corpse sat a lone man.
Damien halted, the corners of his lips twitching upward.
Even though the sun's angle obscured his face, there was no mistaking him.
The one who had slain this beast.
The man who stood above all others in the Velmoria Kingdom.
Argon Von Vaise.
The Duke of the South. The head Patriarch of the Vaise family. The strongest man alive.
Damien's gaze flickered to the wide greatsword embedded in the creature's back, its blade deep within the flesh, as if abandoned mid-swing.
A weapon of ridiculous size, its surface was unmarred, gleaming under the harsh light despite the blood-soaked battlefield.
Casually, Damien lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head.
"Congratulations," he said.
There was no immediate response. The only sound was the crackling of scorched earth and the distant wail of corrupted beasts.
Then, a deep voice, rich with authority and raw power, broke the silence.
"For what?" Argon asked.
Damien raised his head slightly, smirking.
"Twice, in fact. First, for your son—Raven Von Vaise—who has completed his years in the Cradle with the finest results. He has earned the title of The Finest Sword—just like you once did."
A pause.
Argon tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes unreadable.
"And the second?"
Damien gestured toward the slain beast.
"For this. For finally killing the Black Salamander. A beast that many considered unkillable."
Silence again.
Then—
Argon moved.
He leaped from the salamander's back, landing smoothly on the charred earth below. As he stepped into the shade, his features became fully visible.
His hair was black, the trademark sign of most Vaises, his eyes crimson. His face seemed carved with cold precision, handsome yet ruthless, and his body was built not for mere strength but for absolute dominance.
His presence alone could suffocate kings.
He wasn't called the pillar of the Velmoria kingdom for no reason.
Rolled his shoulders, Argon brushed off the dust.
"Neither of those congratulations are timely," he said flatly. "The youngest has not yet graduated. One test remains."
His eyes flickered toward the carcass behind him.
"As for this thing... it does not warrant a celebration." His voice was calm, yet it carried an arrogance only someone like him could wield. "Save your words for the day I conquer the entire Ashen Expanse."
Damien chuckled, shaking his head.
"You never change."
Argon turned his piercing gaze toward him. "You didn't come here just to waste my time, Damien."
"No, I did not." Damien reached into his coat, pulling out a single envelope. "This is the monthly report."
Argon took the letter, but before opening it, Damien continued, smirking.
"And it will be the last. Since this report was about Raven, and he is leaving for the Royal Academy, there will be no further need for it."
Argon hummed, his expression betraying no emotion as he unfolded the parchment.
Damien, sensing that his presence was no longer needed, turned on his heel to leave.
Then—
A shadow moved.
From the ruins of battle, a beast lunged.
Whoosh!
It seemed to have been waiting for this moment, its corrupted hunger guiding its every instinct.
It was a beast with no perfect features—a mix of a mantis and a wolf, a twisted nightmare of fangs and claws.
However, it wasn't weak, its body blurred forward, aiming straight for Argon's exposed back.
Damien's breath caught.
His body tensed, prepared to move—
But then he stopped.
Because Argon had already reacted.
His fingers barely twitched.
And the greatsword, still lodged in the salamander's corpse, shuddered.
FWOOOOSH!
Like a flash of silver lightning, the massive weapon shot through the air at an impossible speed, whistling across the battlefield.
SPLATTER!
The lunging beast—was cut in half.
Not a drop of its blood touched the Duke of Vaise.
The halves of its body crashed behind him, the life in its eyes gone before it even realized it had been slain.
The sword, on the other hand, was now embedded on the ground next to Argon.
The man in question, however, didn't seem to care. He did not even glance back.
Damien exhaled, shaking his head.
'Why did I even think of moving?' He mused.
This man—the man who had killed the Black Salamander—was beyond any ordinary measure.
Almost casually, Argon picked up his sword, sliding it smoothly into its large sheath on his back.
Then, without a word, he resumed reading the report.
Damien smirked.
"Truly, you never change."
The Vaise Patriarch said nothing.
For a man like him, words were never necessary.
He judged the report about the rising star of the Vaise family, who could very well become one of the finest warriors of the family, more important than idle chatter.