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Blood For Magic

Orion's life, marred by relentless tragedy, takes a dark turn with his grandfather's final message, unveiling the existence of an Ancient Organization and entrusting him with a foreboding task. With only a tattered map fragment and the burden of his family's shadowed legacy, Orion plunges into a world where malevolent magic holds it's sway over all and ancient terrors lurk within every corner. In this treacherous landscape where the lines between good and evil blur, even the gods play their hand, their motives as inscrutable as they are terrifying. Where will the sinister map drag him? What malevolent secrets make the gods so untrustworthy? And why was he fated to bear this harrowing burden? Only time will unveil the dread truths. As Orion delves deeper into the nightmare, he faces a destiny steeped in shadows, where survival means defying fate itself. For in a world where gods are either all-powerful or all-good, one thing is certain: they cannot be both.

DivineCrimson · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
128 Chs

Rumors and speculations

Orion took his seat with air of indifference and arrogance. His long, crimson locks and piercing red eyes enhanced his handsome countenance, affording him an air of nobility that few dared to question.

After all, people didn't dare offend a noble by asking if he was one or not. So, in a city accustomed to wayward noble scions, he was perceived as just another youth who had rebelled against his family's wishes and come here to become a hunter. So, Orion was left alone to enjoy his evening in peace.

However, he couldn't help but notice two conspicuous figures inside the tavern, their faces shrouded behind plain white masks, a peculiar choice that attracted unnecessary attention in this urban hub. The wearing of masks wasn't prohibited, but the city guards had taken an interest in these strange individuals, earning those masked men stealthy monitoring from the guards.

Sensing the covert surveillance, one of the masked figures signaled his companion with his hand, and they swiftly departed from the bar, leaving a trail of intrigue in their wake.

"Good thing I didn't wear one," Orion thought as he took a sip from his wooden mug. He was seated in corner table, savoring the exquisite taste of grape wine. The storage of the crypt yielded an extensive collection of such beverages. He didn't like it at first, but over time, he had developed a deep appreciation for its flavors.

The vintage he enjoyed at the moment, however, fell short of his expectations, tempting him to bring out his own stash of wine from red runes over his arm, which he had taken the liberty to bring along.

Yet, he resist the temptation as he wasn't here to indulge in drinking. He was here to gather information. Since he had realized how outdated the knowledge from those reports of the Secret Order was, it had become his primary goal to find the current state of the city, and what better place to find recent news than the taverns? Where hunters loosened their tongues to liquor, spilling their tales of adventure in attempts of boasting.

Orion silently observed his surroundings, As the last vestiges of curiosity departed with the masked figures, his keen eyes scanned the gathered mages, discerning the hues of their manacores like a painter crafting a masterpiece.

Most emitted a glow oscillating between yellow and radiant yellow, their power evident but contained. Yet, amidst the throng, two figures shimmered with the unmistakable brilliance of silver core magic. However, the elusive radiance of radiant silver remained elusive, Or maybe they were just too good at hiding their auras, but Orion doubted that.

Amidst the thong of hinters, Orion remained vigilant, his senses attuned to the subtle currents of mana weaving through the air. While ordinary mages struggled to discern the true quality of their peers' manacores, Orion, with his extraordinary gift, effortlessly navigated the intricate dance of energies.

With practiced finesse, he concealed his own manacore, a shimmering beacon of power, while deftly probing the depths of others'. Yet, he remained ever vigilant, knowing that even his mastery was not infallible. A radiant silver coremage could easily pierce his veiled intentions, should they so desire.

He had been cautioned from the beginning, from the moment he had entered Elsmere. To the untrained eye, he appeared no more than a mere yellow core mage, but beneath the surface, his true potential simmered, waiting to be unleashed upon the world.

After making sure that no radint silver mage was present, Orion's keen ears sifted through the murmurs of the gathered crowd, the murmur of hushed voices finally reached his ears. Conversations ebbed and flowed, touching upon all kinds of topics. Rumors danced through the air like wisps of smoke. There were even discussions about the rumors of how the emperor had diapeared from the empire.

Orion scoffed in skepticism at such words, before his attention went towards the other whispers, where a few hunters were talking about the recent appearances of the wyvern.

Not too far from him, Orion found himself drawn to the table where a man of rugged demeanor held court, his imposing frame casting a shadow over the worn wooden surface. With a bushy beard framing his weathered face, the man leaned in close, his voice a barely audible rumble. "It's a treacherous time," he confessed, his words heavy with caution. "I've made the rounds at the hospital, visited other hunting parties. Even silver core mages returned battered and bruised."

He paused for a moment before continuing, "Four separate groups have fallen victim to the wyverns' menace. Two had managed to escape without much casualty, their fortune in the face of peril. One group, by sheer luck, was rescued by a wandering mage. It was the last one that left only bones of the dead."

Orion listened intently, noting that the group of hunters he had saved earlier, were indeed one of the unfortunate victims of wyvren's wrath.

At the hunter's words, curiosity gnawed at one of his companions beside him, making him ask instinctively, "Is it true.. that it was the und--" But his question was abruptly silenced by a resonating crash, the smashing sound of a wooden mug meeting the solid surface of the table.

The bearded man fixed a stern gaze upon his companion and hissed a warning, "Mind your words, Ragues. We are in the public eye." However, after a resigned sigh, he couldn't resist the lure of the story and continued, "These are but whispers and shadows of rumors, but in these uncertain times, who can say for certain?"

Ragues nodded, his apprehension mirrored in his eyes. "That's why we must act with caution. We'll bide our time for a few days before resuming our hunts. The world outside is fraught with danger right now, and recklessness is a luxury we can't afford." With that, he drained the remnants of his drink, his decision to wait hanging over the members of his group.

Yet, just as he finished his word, fate intervened with a sudden and unmistakable force. A shockwave, powerful and relentless, swept through the tavern like a tempest unleashed and the entire of building tremble to it's very very foundations to the core.