The World Outside.

A/N: check comments for a new poster for the first arc + the ranking of monsters.

***

Arel, a young elven boy, sprinted through the vivid garden, his quick steps matching the pulse of his heart.

He was dressed in a typical elf gown with elaborate designs of shimmering silver threads that danced with every movement.

The garment cascaded about him like a waterfall of silvery silk, complementing his youthful features with its ethereal beauty.

The garden was a blanket of red and yellow petals that spread as far as the eye could see.

The sky above was a spectacular display of golden colours, bathing the world with celestial light.

Arel's long pearl hair swayed in the breeze like waves in a moonlit sea.

A familiar voice cried out, full of both humour and tenderness, in the midst of his ecstatic investigation. "Arel! Arel! Where have you gone?"

Arel halted his playful run, turning to face the source of the voice.

His grin widened as he saw the woman standing among the fairy tree, her own pearl hair streaming down her back.

Her hazel eyes twinkled with love and kindness.

"Oh, Arel, always wandering off without a word!" she admonished him tenderly, with a mischievous pout. "I swear, you keep me on my toes. You know, I'm getting old!"

Arel approached her, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. She was standing beside the towering fairy tree, surrounded by exquisite white tulips that fluttered gently in the breeze, their petals like stardust.

"Mama, take a look!" Arel exclaimed, pointing to the horizon in the distance. "There, the sky and the land merge! I wonder how it looks nearer!"

His mother's face softened as she observed her inquisitive and daring kid.

"Haha, Arel, my dear, you may be 199 years old, but you still have the heart of a child," she gently interrupted.

"I like it! I enjoy seeing new things!" Arel's voice danced with excitement and a quest for discovery.

His eyes twinkled like stars. "But we're always stuck in this town... I'm curious about the outside world! Is it even more lovely?"

His mother was taken away by the pure excitement in her son's eyes.

Arel's spirit, she realised finally, could never be contained inside the confines of their tranquil town.

"Listen, Arel," she started, her voice sweet yet wise. "The world beyond our town truly is wondrous. It contains wonders beyond comprehension. But keep in mind that where there is light, there is also darkness. There is evil beside good."

"Evil... Good..." Arel contemplated the disparity, his eyes blazing with unflinching faith. "I see what you're saying, Mother. But I still want to see everything. I want to see the beauty hidden inside the darkness and confront evil with my own strength. Even in the shadows, I believe the Nepith is still lovely."

His mother looked at her son, who had grown from a curious child to a young man ready to face life's problems.

She couldn't and didn't want to, deny his spirit.

"My son, why don't you embark on your own adventure and discover the world for yourself?" Her eyes were filled with pride and bittersweet anticipation as she proposed.

Arel's face brightened up with happiness. "Can I really go on this adventure? Can I finally see the world that I've always longed to see?"

"Yes, my son," his mother confirmed with solemnity in her voice. "We will bid you farewell after your birthday next week. Arel Iarzorwyn, son of the great archer Kendel Iarzorwyn, you've grown into a wonderful young man. But never forget who you are and the legacy that runs through your veins."

Her words hung in the air, the weight of duty blending with Arel's eyes' limitless promise. His eyes were riveted on his mother, and his admiration for her shone clearly.

***

Kleir stepped from the cottage, his presence hidden beneath the folds of a dark cloak.

His face was concealed by the cloak's hood, save for a glimpse of his eyes peeping through the mask he wore—a mask that bore a calm, enigmatic smile, disguising his vampiric features.

His sword lay at his waist, a silent sentinel ready to be drawn at any moment.

Kleir started looking around, inspecting the area.

The name "lawless" was not given to that location without purpose. The stink of disused sewers mingled with the constant buzzing of insects in the air.

The streets were strewn with dirt and unpleasant items, while the garbage remained untouched, a witness to the area's neglect.

Dilapidated houses stood quiet testimonies to the suffering their residents had faced.

The inhabitants of this deserted land bore the scars of pain and strife. Gaunt figures shuffled across the streets, their eyes reflecting the tired expressions on their cheeks.

Among them, a few stood out as criminals, their wounds serving as badges of their illicit activities.

Various street vendors marketed their wares, some dealing in illegal things that thrived in this shadowy world.

Kleir strode back and forth, his gaze highly watchful, waiting for Irene's signal. Nonetheless, a startling accident stopped his thoughts.

A teenage girl, who appeared frail and defenceless, had collided with him, sending her apple basket toppling to the ground. The fruits strewn about rolled away.

"Ouch—"

The girl lay on the ground, her face contorted with astonishment and dismay. Her brownish hair fell in a mess about her face, creating a veil.

She met Kleir's gaze for a brief moment before quickly disguising her face with a plain grey robe.

Kleir extended a hand towards her, a worried expression on his covered face. "Please be cautious, dear lady. Are you hurt?"

She stayed silent, her gaze riveted on him for an instant before withdrawing beneath the sheltering folds of her robe once more.

Kleir knelt alongside her, puzzled by her reaction, and helped her retrieve the falling fruit.

Her basket's meagre contents—only four apples in poor condition.

The girl appeared surprised by the enigmatic masked man's sudden assistance.

She gave a gracious bow and immediately left after the mess was removed.

Kleir wondered to himself, mystified by the experience, trying to decipher the familiar energy he had sensed flowing from the female.

"Can you hear me, Young Master?" Kleir's brow furrowed in surprise as a soothing voice resonated in his mind.

-

Telepathy? This voice... it's Irene.

If I remember correctly, I need to direct my thoughts towards the target recipient and channel my inner energy.

-

He focussed his thoughts and strove to establish the telepathic connection. He succeeded, much to his surprise.

"I can hear you, Irene. Have all of the troops assembled at the designated location?"

"Certainly, Sir. They have gathered in the abandoned castle of the former lord, as per your directions. We await your command."

"Excellent. Rest assured, I'll be there shortly."

"Understood, Sir!"

The telepathic communication halted, leaving Kleir speechless.

It was his first encounter with such otherworldly talents, and he was both delighted and curious.

However, conflicting thoughts gnawed at his mind.

-

How come I'm so comfortable with my current behaviour and function as a commander?

Is it possible that I have absorbed the mannerisms and instincts of the original Kleir?

There appears to be no other explanation.

Anyways, the innumerable books I have studied regarding strategies and behaviour in my past life will be beneficial in unravelling this mission I think…

-

Kleir pushed on, following the trail that led to the town's outskirts.

He eventually arrived at the entrance to a deep forest—an uncanny area teeming with frightening monsters.

The abandoned fortress was hidden deep among its depths.

"What a pain in the ass," he mumbled under his breath.

Kleir, as a high-ranking aristocratic vampire, had the power to fly.

However, using such a skill in broad daylight, on the other hand, would reveal their identity and jeopardise their goals.

Nonetheless, he possessed inherent agility that had been developed through intense training.

He stepped back slightly, adjusting his stance as if preparing for a marathon, ready to unleash his lightning-fast speed.

Kleir's senses were heightened as energy raced through his veins, and the world around him seemed to slow.

With a burst of incredible speed, he rushed forward like a bolt of lightning, leaving a trail of blurred motion behind him.

As he slashed through the air, the rush of wind hit his face, forcing his dark cloak to billow behind him like a living shadow.

Trees became a blur in his wake, their branches bending and swinging.

With each tremendous stride, the ground beneath his boots trembled, the earth trembling as he forced himself forward.

But, in the middle of the race, a giant figure loomed ahead, drawing Kleir's attention— Oblivion Class monster, a Colossal minotaur.

Its massive form, a monstrous mass of muscle and rage, stood in his way like an impassable barrier.