Prologue

The moon and stars illuminated the sand-covered ruins below, revealing a city that was once part of a powerful civilization from a mythical age of gods, monsters, and sorcerer-kings. The decline of this once-powerful civilization remains a mystery, with only vague rumours and speculation offering clues. The passage of time has obscured many details about who they were, their accomplishments, and what ultimately caused their downfall. This enigma has confounded even the most adept historians, leaving it as a puzzle that may never be completely solved.

Isn’t it the destiny of all civilizations and peoples to eventually meet their end? To be surpassed and subject to the whims of time in a world where nothing is permanent. But what if you had the ability to defy this fate? To possess eternal life, untouched by the march of time. Would such a life be appealing, or would it simply be a postponement of the inevitable?

In the centre of the ruins, bathed in the light of the full moon, stood a young man who seemed ageless, possessing a tall and lean physique reminiscent of carved marble. His tanned skin had a pale alabaster sheen, lending him an otherworldly presence. His face was sharp and focused, a stark contrast to his dishevelled black hair that melded into the darkness. His amber eyes held a faint, luminous glow but also bore traces of weariness that belied his youthful facade. He was draped in a tattered hooded cloak that danced in the night breeze, partially concealing his faded and dull bronze breastplate. By his side, a curved bronze sword shimmered in the moonlight, casting a blue hue.

If an observant person were to watch this young man, they would be struck by the contradiction that defined his existence. He appeared youthful and almost timeless in his appearance, yet he was surrounded by signs of death and decay. His clothing, armour, and weapons all belonged to a bygone era, a time long past. The city around him was worn and dilapidated, with the once sturdy stonework of the buildings now standing as relics of a once great age. The greatness and achievements of that era were now lost, and the only one who remembered them was the brooding young man, surrounded by the remnants of a forgotten past.

It was a peaceful night, and he cherished these moments of solitude. It allowed him to delve into his memories, akin to exploring the depths of the ocean. On the surface, everything was crystal clear and illuminated. Every little detail was vividly remembered – the sights, the sounds, the smells, and if fortunate, even the slightest touch or taste. Yet, as he delved deeper, striving to uncover profound insights, the path ahead became shrouded in darkness and uncertainty. What he once believed to be undeniable truths now seemed clouded by personal biases and perspectives.

Tonight was a memorable night for the young man. This city was his former home, a place whose name has been lost to history. Despite the surrounding sand and ruins, the city remains vivid in his memories. As he strolls through the city, he is struck by the sunlight illuminating the city, the vast plains beyond its walls, and the pristine water flowing nearby, glistening and sparkling. Such a scene would evoke strong emotions. The sounds of people engaging in various activities replay in his mind continuously. He observes the joy on children’s faces as they engage in playful activities on the street, whether it’s kicking a ball or playfully sparring with sticks. He also notices the weathered faces of labourers carrying heavy loads of stone, wood, or metal. He listens to the merchants engaging in their trade, with one particularly intense discussion revolving around subpar copper. How long had it been since this city was bustling with activity? Ten years? A hundred years? Maybe even a thousand years? He used to count time by the movement of the stars, but he had seen so many passed by that he had lost track. Was it truly a thousand years ago when he last checked? The uncertainty gnawed at his thoughts as he delved into his memories.

As he strolled down the street towards the south gate of the city, he caught sight of a faint flicker of light in the distance. Intrigued, he made his way towards it like a moth drawn to a flame. He approached the light cautiously, moving quietly to avoid detection. As he neared, he saw the dying embers of a campfire. Alert and wary, he cautiously approached the campsite. In this city, there shouldn’t have been any inhabitants apart from squatters struggling to survive in the ruins of the once-thriving metropolis.

As he explored the campsite, he noticed that it was deserted but surprisingly well-equipped for squatters. Unfamiliar weapons were scattered around, along with sturdy tents and a makeshift shelter. Inside the shelter, he discovered a sturdy wooden table covered with stacks of maps and books written in a language he couldn’t identify. Everything appeared basic and almost demeaning in its simplicity. Studying the map, he recognized it as a crudely drawn city map. His mind raced with thoughts as he absorbed it all.

“Seems like another group of treasure hunters”.

He thought to himself that one would expect them to understand, considering all the other treasure hunters they had sent who had disappeared. However, danger always seemed to tempt the reckless and adventurous. It was a sensation he knew well. Leaving the campsite, he set out to find his latest target. With his keen senses, it didn’t take him long to locate them. The torches they carried and the unfamiliar language they spoke made them easy to spot. There were twenty of them, heavily armed, seemingly exploring the ancient temple in the city.

“Too many to take on at once.”

He contemplated his own abilities and skills, acknowledging them to himself. Over the next few hours, he immersed himself in this new activity. He watched them from the shadows, closely monitoring their every move, and when the chance presented itself, he would quietly eliminate them one by one. Though he found some satisfaction in this, it was overshadowed by a sense of duty and responsibility. These treasure hunters were oblivious to the fact that some things should be left undisturbed. If the city only held riches from the past, Tharos felt no connection to the scattered trinkets.

However, lurking in the depths of the city was something far more perilous than the ghost of a young man haunting its once majestic halls. One could simplify it by calling it a monster. Its true nature remained a mystery, but its extreme danger was undeniable. Even the most arrogant sorcerers would not dare to try and control it. Standing on the temple roof, he surveyed the aftermath of his efforts. His cloak was stained with a thick layer of red, and his armour and sword bore new dents and scratches. This marked the 11th group he had confronted in recent years. Typically, it would be decades before another band of treasure hunters appeared, but the frequency of encounters was now escalating at an alarming rate.

“These treasure hunters seem to be more organised than I first thought.“

Looking up at the night sky, Tharos knew he had a lot of work ahead of him.