Valerian stood frozen. His eyes remained fixed on the empty patch of air where his son, Azuma, had just been. The sharp, stinging scent of ozone and the static of shattered mana hung thick in the cavern, making the back of his throat itch. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the shallow, wet rasps of the defeated Royal Guards lying among the stones.

  "Valerian!" Boris’s voice cracked through the stillness, thick with a frantic edge. He rushed to the King’s side, his boots crunching on the debris. "What, in the name of the White Light, just happened? What was that circle?"

  Valerian slowly turned. His face was a shade of pale Boris had never seen on the King—a ghostly, drained look. "It was a remote teleportation," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "An inscription I... I engineered it myself. I swear, he didn't have a trinket like that when the match started."

  "Teleported? To where?" Boris’s hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white.

  Valerian shook his head, looking around the cavern with a growing sense of helplessness. "I never knew he even held a summoning teleportation inscription. This was outside everything we tested. The outcome... the destination... I have no idea where he is."

  He glanced at the ground. Vikram and Dhruba were motionless. Anya’s eyes remained shut. Finally, his gaze landed on Rufe, who was leaning heavily against a cracked slab of wall, his breath coming in ragged bursts, barely conscious.

  A Few Minutes Earlier

  Shizu lay on the cold ground, her breath hitching as she watched her clan die. She was humanoid, marked by long, delicate ears and fangs that peeked from her lip. The sight was a nightmare. Ten of her kin were throwing everything they had at a single warrior from the opposing clan, but they couldn't even leave a scratch. Three more enemy warriors stood back, watching with casual indifference.

  She tried to push herself up, but a hot, stabbing pain in her stomach forced her back down. Looking down, she saw her hands were already slick and red. She was lying in a growing pool of her own blood.

  "How did we end up here?" she whispered, the words bubbling with a sob. As the leader, the weight of their fate crushed her. "My dear, I have failed you."

  She began to crawl, her fingers digging into the dirt as she pulled her body toward a fallen comrade. One warrior, his chest heaving and blood dripping from his brow, crawled toward her.

  "We have to save the clan," he gasped, his voice rattling. "Please... summon a demon lord."

  He pointed to the others struggling to stay alive. With the last of their strength, they dragged themselves into a triangle. A male warrior lifted Shizu, his arms shaking, and placed her in the center. The two surviving warriors stood, joining their hands to form a circle around her.

  Shizu began to chant. The words were ancient, vibrating in her chest. A pale yellow light began to hum around them. Suddenly, a sharp zap of lightning struck the circle. The warriors beside her collapsed, their life force snuffed out instantly to fuel the spell. The yellow light turned a blinding, heavy gold.

  A boy appeared.

  As Shizu collapsed, staring at his back, he looked like a figure from a legend. His clothes seemed to shimmer with a steady white glow, and his aura felt like a physical weight pressing down on the clearing. To Shizu, even as the world blurred, his presence felt like the stories of Gods descending from the sky.

  A massive axe swung toward her—the demi-human who had slaughtered her people was closing in for the kill. Just as the blade was about to bite into her, the boy moved. He stood in front of her, deflecting the heavy metal by a mere inch with a casual flick of his wrist. With a single, lightning-fast kick, he sent the giant foe flying. The sound of a neck snapping echoed through the trees.

  The boy looked back at her. He gave her a small, elegant smile—the kind of look that made the pain in her gut feel a little further away.

  In that moment, she whispered the words of her daily prayers: “My God.”

  A voice, calm and echoing directly in her mind, responded: “I WILL.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  A wave of bliss washed over her. Her prayers had been heard. As her eyes began to flutter shut, she spoke her final breath: “Finally, I…”

  Azuma's Perspective: An Unknown Land

  A dizzying lurch signaled the end of the teleport. Azuma’s boots hit the mud, and he felt a wave of grogginess wash over him, making his knees tremble. He forced his eyes open, but the white glow of the circle was still burned into his vision.

  The landscape was a nightmare—a desolate, blood-soaked rainforest trapped in a permanent grey twilight. Where am I? he wondered, but as the thought formed, something within him shifted.

  His divine mana began to spike, surging through his veins with a heat that made his skin prickle. He couldn't be sure why it was happening, but the power was acting on its own. What is happening to me? he thought, looking down at his trembling hands. Even without his command, his eyes began to shift, the pupils bleeding into a cold, piercing silver.

  Suddenly, he felt a sharp prick on the back of his neck, the unmistakable sensation of eyes being laid on him. At that exact moment, his soul started to sting. It felt claustrophobic, like his entire being was being squeezed through a tiny hole—crawling through a tight, airless cave deep underwater. He felt his very soul beginning to slip, drifting as if it were leaving his body entirely, and he had to fight with every scrap of his will to reel it back in.

  Biting his teeth together so hard his jaw throbbed, he forced himself to rise. It felt like he was lifting a five-hundred-pound weight just to straighten his spine, his muscles screaming under the sheer pressure of existing.

  New words began to bloom within his soul, burning like brands.

  “Ahhhh…” Azuma let out a controlled, muffled sound. He gritted his teeth against the pain and spread his legs wider, bracing himself so he wouldn't collapse. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, fighting to stop his head from spinning as the foreign information settled.

  “Master, danger! Look out!”

  The voice echoed sharply within his mind. He didn't know where the sound had come from, but his focus snapped tight. In the gloom, a massive figure was charging. The creature was huge, with arms like tree trunks and a face hidden behind snarling tusks. It was coming at him with a heavy, black axe raised high.

  Azuma dropped into a deeper stance. He whispered a single word into the back of his mind: 'Decelerate.'

  The world slowed to a crawl. The charging warrior’s feet hung in the air, the dust he kicked up freezing like tiny grey diamonds. Sweat dripped from the creature's brow in slow motion. The massive axe descended toward Azuma's head like it was moving through thick honey.

  Azuma moved with sharp, quiet precision. He stepped to the side, shifted into a crane stance, and gave the side of the axe a small nudge with his knee. The weapon buried itself deep into the mud. Without putting his foot down, he slammed his heel onto the creature’s wrist, using it as a pivot. He jumped, driving his other leg up in a strike that shattered the Hog’s elbow, then followed through with a heavy roundhouse kick to the face.

  His silver eyes blazed again, the light spilling over as the world seemed to stretch and thin around him. Everything entered a grinding slow motion. He opened his mouth, and the word didn't come out as a mere command, but as a Law, a vibration that echoed through the very fabric of reality.

  'Saa... vuuu...' The sound hung in the air, vibrating the rain droplets into a fine mist before they could even hit the ground. The creature’s skull buckled in agonizingly slow increments, the bone pulverizing under the weight of the divine word. Then, as the sound faded, the world snapped back to its natural rhythm. The Hog crumpled into the dirt, dead before the echo died away. Azuma landed softly, his breath hitching slightly as he felt the drain on his core.

  My mana is low from the last fight, he realised, his chest heaving. He looked at his hands, feeling the hollow ache in his marrow. What do I have left to finish this? How much more can I push?

  “Looking at your Maya and divine mana, you have enough for about two more heavy spells.”

  Azuma stiffened. A cold, inner confirmation settled over him—he was sure now, this wasn't an illusion or some trick of his mind. The high-pitched ringing that had been vibrating in his ears since the teleport abruptly died away, replaced by the damp, heavy silence of the forest. The voice echoed clearly through the layers of his mind. Only then did he glance around, but there was no one near him. It wasn't a shout from the woods; it was a response to his own silent thought.

  Azuma’s eyes scanned the trees. Three more humanoid figures stood near a fallen commander, their faces twisted in shock.

  Three more, then. Azuma pushed the mystery of the voice aside for now, letting a small, tight smile touch his lips. "This will be... interesting."

  He began to walk toward them, but a soft, shimmering light behind him caught his eye. He turned and saw the woman from the ritual—Shizu—lying on the ground. Her long ears and white fangs were unmistakable, but her body was beginning to break apart into glowing particles of gold dust.

  Azuma’s calm vanished. His eyes widened. "Oh, no... Shizu!"

  He rushed to her side, a sudden, sharp sorrow hitting him. He knew, with total certainty, that she was the one who had brought him here. As he knelt, she didn't look like she was in pain. She gave him a radiant smile, a single tear cutting a path through the grime on her cheek.

  [Shizu]: (A fading, airy whisper) "Save... my world."

  Azuma froze. Why is she smiling? Why ask me? The questions swirled, but her final plea hit a hidden memory deep in his soul.

  It doesn’t matter, he decided. She is my friend. That’s enough.

  He smiled back, holding her hand firmly. "I will."

  With that, she vanished. The golden dust drifted into the air, leaving only the memory of her smile. As the particles touched him, he felt a warm, residual light—her sacrifice—sink into his own essence.