Illusion of the Past

As dawn broke over the city, the atmosphere among the group was charged with a mix of determination and anticipation. Despite the long night spent practicing their new skills, Amukelo and Eliss appeared rejuvenated and ready for the journey ahead. Their dedication to mastering the mana techniques had only deepened following their recent setbacks.

The Shogun, aware of the gravity of their mission, met them early in the morning. His presence conveyed the importance of their task, and his words carried the weight of hope and concern. "May fortune accompany you," he intoned solemnly, bestowing upon them his wishes for success. He then provided them with crucial information regarding the likely location of the next artifact. According to his intelligence, it was situated a formidable ten days' flight away, a distance that underscored the challenge they faced.

With the briefing concluded, Erohan transformed into his majestic dragon form, his scales shimmering in the morning light as he prepared to carry his companions across the skies. The team secured themselves as Erohan took to the air, his powerful wings beating against the cool air, propelling them forward on their new quest.

The journey was set against the backdrop of vast landscapes unfolding below them, each passing mile a reminder of the vastness of their world and the small part they played in its fate. They knew that if Valarian did not possess any shortcuts, he would require at least one to two months to reach the artifact by conventional means. However, the possibility that he knew of the artifact's exact location and might have other mystical means at his disposal meant that he still held the upper hand.

Their own knowledge was limited to a mere point on a map, leaving much to be uncovered upon arrival. This uncertainty added an element of the unknown to their mission, challenging them to be prepared for any eventuality.

As the first day of flight concluded, the group settled into a routine designed to sustain them over the long haul. They agreed to allow themselves eight hours of rest each night, recognizing that the grueling six-hour sleep schedule they had initially considered would not be sustainable over extended periods. Yet, driven by a relentless drive to improve, Eliss particularly pushed herself harder than the rest. She limited her sleep to only four hours a night, dedicating her waking moments to refining her control over mana.

Amukelo watched her with a mix of admiration and concern, wary that her intense regimen might lead to burnout. However, to his surprise, Eliss's abilities seemed to flourish under the strain, her mastery of the mana techniques growing more profound with each passing day. Inspired by her progress and resilience, Amukelo decided to adopt a similar training schedule, pushing his own limits to match her commitment.

The demanding pace took its toll, and there were moments when both Eliss and Amukelo, exhausted beyond measure, found themselves dozing off on Erohan's broad back as he soared through the skies. The wind whipped fiercely around them, making sleep uncomfortable and fitful, yet their sheer exhaustion made even these brief respites possible.

Erohan, for his part, exhibited the stamina typical of his kind. The dragon, unaffected by the need for frequent rest, maintained a steady pace through the sky and didn't neglect the need for improvement. His natural resilience as a dragon allowed him to endure long periods of flight without fatigue, a vital asset to the group's progress.

Ida and Yosue also were pushing their limits, yet not as drastically as Amukelo and Eliss. They were training for only two hours after landing, but they made up by training while flying. They focused on improving their ability to sustain the state.

As they continued their journey, the endless expanse of sky and cloud around them served as a constant reminder of the vast journey ahead. With each wingbeat, Erohan carried them closer to their destination, the unknown challenges that awaited them lurking just beyond the horizon. The group remained vigilant, their spirits bolstered by their shared purpose and the critical nature of their quest. As the landscape below shifted and the days blended into one another, their resolve only strengthened, ready to face whatever awaited them at their journey's end.

As Erohan guided them through the expansive skies, an unexpected sound broke the monotonous hum of the wind—a cacophony reminiscent of a massive war. The group exchanged puzzled glances before deciding to investigate, curiosity mingled with caution. Descending toward the source, they were met with a scene of epic proportions that unfolded beneath them.

The landscape below was a vast battlefield, marked by devastation and the clamor of war. It spanned a massive area, with the earth scarred and blackened, evidence of a fierce conflict raging below. On one side stood an alliance of various races, their armor gleaming under the sun, banners waving amidst the turmoil. Opposing them was a formidable army of demons and devils, their forms twisted and menacing, exuding malevolence.

Erohan, his voice tinged with disbelief and awe, murmured, "The... The Ancient War..." His words hung heavy in the air, as if the very mention of the event could invoke its catastrophic power. Below, the battle raged with ferocity, with countless warriors clashing in a dance of death.

At the heart of this chaos was a figure in armor identical to Amukelo's, engaged in combat with a towering devil. This was no ordinary skirmish but a duel of fates. "Demigod Eldrian... A final encounter..." Erohan breathed out, the memories of lore he had thought legends flooding back.

Compelled by a mixture of reverence and curiosity, Erohan maneuvered closer, allowing them a better view. As they hovered at the fringe of the battlefield, Erohan ventured slightly forward into the fray, expecting to pass through what he suspected might be an illusion. To his astonishment, the scene remained palpably real around him, yet untouched by the physical reality—they were spectators to a spectral replay of history.

The mystery deepened when the legendary figure of Eldrian activated an ancient scroll. A blinding pillar of light erupted from the scroll, piercing the heavens with its brilliance. As the light receded, Eldrian stood transformed. His armor pulsed with a radiant red light, seeming to contain a power so immense that it was a struggle to maintain its containment.

Eldrian's newfound power bestowed upon him an immeasurable speed. His movements became blurs, dashes of red light that sliced through the battlefield with precision and grace. Every motion was a stroke of artistry, lethal and swift, his armor glowing with each surge of movement.

But the adversary he faced, Satan, in his imposing giant form, was not outmatched. Despite his bulk, his movements mirrored Eldrian's in speed and ferocity. The devil moved with a terrifying agility that belied his size, his own attacks a blur of motion that rivaled Eldrian's enhancements. The two figures, locked in this legendary duel, moved faster than the eye could follow, their strikes resonating across the battlefield and echoing through the ages.