Rael's house appeared to be a very old hut from the outside—it was small, weathered, and plain. Yet a keen observer could easily detect the fact that not a single beam, nail, or stone had been thrown into its construction by chance.
In the backyard, sparks were flying.
Rael was positioned in front of an impromptu forge, elbows rolled up, hammer in hand. The sweat streamed down his neck with each blow of the hammer on the hot metal. Every blow was calculated. Every motion was not wasteful.
Clang
Clang
Clang
Suddenly, he stopped.
The hammer froze in the air. The relaxed face changed to one of seriousness and hardness. The eyes became somewhat narrow, as if looking at some distant object?
On his finger was the pulsing black ring.
"Master," Breseark's voice echoed inside his thoughts.
"Yeah." Rael slowly lowered the hammer. "I feel it too."
He looked up at the sky.
"So… he's really back," Rael whispered. "The Hero of Light."
7
Very far away, in an environment where regular people would have died just from the atmosphere, one man was standing in front of a gigantic gate.
The sky there is red. The atmosphere is dense with so much mana that it would kill an A-ranking adventurer in a matter of seconds.
Keal
He sat casually on the back of a massive dog-like creature. Once, that creature had three heads. But now, all three of its heads rested on its shoulders, beheaded—its necks still oozing black blood, yet its torso was compelled to kneel by Keal's power.
Behind him were the bodies of millions of devils.
These were the guardians of that location—the exterior region of the Underworld.
One of the darkest and most dangerous spots within the entire mortal universe.
And this was just the entrance.
If they had the chance to enter the Real Underworld, they had to pass through this place, this test by death that no mortal soul could endure.
Keal drew near the gigantic gate, so he pushed it open.
Creak
When he stepped through, the air changed. The weight of the world was different, heavier and colder.
Just as the door behind him was about to close—
He heard something.
Footsteps
A wet dragging sound.
"Turn your head slightly," he instructed.
"All of the devils he had killed earlier… were standing up again."
Broken bodies readjusted into shape. Shattered horns reknit. Empty eyes blazed with red light.
Keal looked at them and smiled.
"His smile was… twisted. Devious."
'Heh,' he chuckled. 'Round two already?'
Meanwhile, back in the village of light, Rael smiled faintly as if listening to the same echo from a distant place.
"So, you've eventually opened the gate to the Underworld," he whispered. "Took you long enough."
"It is mine," he said quietly.
He placed the half-forged sword back into the flames.
"I
"Breseark." "If I may, Master?" "Again." "What is
"Go on," Rael said.
"Why are you forging a sword when you have me?"
Rael's hammer never stopped moving. "This isn't for me," he replied. "This is for Arin. He wants something better than this."
He examined the shape of the blade, nodded in satisfaction, when a voice from the direction of his house caught his attention.
"What are you doing, child?"
Rael, who had picked up on the presence, feigned surprise. "Huh? Who?"
A person entered the backyard.
His only relatives.
His uncle—Rujed. The 28-year-old merchant who had a small trade in jewelry between the two human kingdoms on this continent.
Rael's face actually softened this time. He put down the hammer and came forward, hugging his uncle.
"Uncle," he greeted
Rujed chuckled as he held his shoulders. "Oh my god. our Rael is also forging weapons?"
Rael shrugged his shoulders casually. "Well, I did go to Verala Academy and learned smithing. Why not? It does bring extra money. I sell them to the guild association."
Rujed exhaled a sigh of relief. "Ahh, Rael. you grew up too soon. I'm sorry, kid. If I had the chance to live within the kingdom, you would have completed your learning."
Rael shakes his head. "It's not your fault, Uncle. Mother and Father died because they were poisoned. And the tuition fee at the academy was outrageous—two silver coins per year, aside from the other charges."
Rujed walked over to sit down on a large rock—that was where Rael used to rest his finished weapons.
"Even if you say that," Rujed stated quietly, "it's still too much for a seventeen-year-old to handle."
"Eighteen," Rael calmly corrected as he cleaned the finished sword.
Rujed waved a hand. "Okay, eighteen. The thing is—"
His face turned serious.
"Well, I'm here," he said slowly. "Tell me, then, what happened," he said
Four words. Rael paused for a moment while cleaning. Then he glanced at his uncle with a straight face and answered: "We're fucked