A cool breeze stirred the tall grasses along the riverbank, carrying the scent of fresh water and damp earth. Birds wheeled overhead in lazy arcs, their melodies blending with the rustling of leaves. Beneath the shade of a massive tree, Adam sat quietly, gazing at the glimmering water as small boats drifted by like forgotten dreams.
His once-mighty hands, now scarred and weathered by countless battles, rested on his knees. Maximus, his loyal horse, grazed nearby, his silver-streaked mane flicking gently with each sway of the wind. Beside Adam stood two young figures—his children. Born from pain, raised in storms, and trained by a man who had faced death and conquered it time and time again.
"Time…" Adam muttered, his voice as deep as the earth, "takes from the body—but not the fire inside."
He stood with effort, stretched, and turned to Maximus. "Come, old friend. Varnok awaits."
The trio mounted their horses. With Adam in the center and his children flanking him like sentinels of fate, they rode. Through sunlit fields, through stormy winds, through whispers of awe from villagers who still remembered the man once called The Undying Blade.
Days passed. Then—
They arrived at a crossroads shrouded in mist. A great stone slab stood at the center, its carvings worn but legible.
> The path to the right leads to great wealth.
The path to the left leads to a woman more beautiful than any other.
The path straight ahead leads to certain death.
Adam dismounted, studying the stone. His fingers brushed the cold surface.
He chuckled. "Riches bore me. Beauty fades. But death… death is a companion I know well."
He turned to his children. "We go forward."
They said nothing. Only nodded. The path ahead, thick with shadow and silence, welcomed them like a predator with open jaws.
Fog choked the trail. The trees leaned in like silent witnesses. Then—they emerged.
Bandits.
Thousands of them. Hardened men, four thousand strong. Steel flashed. Eyes gleamed. The scent of bloodlust was thick in the air.
A dark figure hidden in the trees above watched closely—a cloaked spy from Varnok. Sent by Sahabi's uncles, he had been tracking rumors of powerful warriors heading toward the city. What he now witnessed would change everything.
The bandit leader stepped forward. His cloak dragged across dead leaves. A scar twisted his lip into a permanent sneer.
"Halt!" he barked. "Who dares trespass in our domain?"
Adam said nothing. He didn't have to.
One of his sons stepped forward, his eyes like fire under ice. The other reached for his blade, calm, composed. The bandits laughed.
"Children?" the leader sneered. "This is who you send, old man?"
Adam remained still, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Then it began.
The first bandit lunged—and was cut down before he could scream. The second—taken out by a single spinning kick, his sword flying into the trees.
What followed was a storm—a blinding, breathtaking dance of combat. The children moved like wind and lightning. Every strike was deliberate, every movement a masterclass. They fought not with rage, but with legacy.
Dozens fell. Hundreds scattered. The bandits tried to regroup—but fear had already cracked their courage.
The legend of Adam was known, feared. But this? This was something greater.
His children were not just warriors. They were trained assassins—shadows made flesh. Born of a god of war.
From above, the spy's hands trembled as he gripped the tree branch. "They're not human," he whispered. "They're something else."
As the last hundred bandits gathered in desperation, panting and bloodied, Adam chuckled. "They're tiring," he said softly. "Maybe it's time I try this blade again."
He reached behind him and revealed a shining katana. "This," he said to the stunned bandits, "was given to me by my father. It's said to cut through anything. Let's see how many heads roll today."
In a blink, Adam vanished from his horse.
Then—chaos.
Heads flew. Blood sprayed like crimson rain. Where Adam passed, death followed.
The spy's eyes widened. "He moved faster than light…"
Adam landed before the trembling bandit leader. But something was wrong.
The leader took out a small vial and drank it.
His body convulsed. Bones cracked. Muscles tore and reformed. Fangs erupted from his jaw. Skin blackened. He grew nearly twice his size—becoming a grotesque, inhuman beast.
The sky dimmed. The wind stilled.
Adam narrowed his eyes. "That… was no potion."
From the tree, the spy gasped. "That vial… That was stolen from Varnok… mixed with the blood of the Feral One… the last of the tamed beasts!"
The beast roared.
Adam didn't flinch. "Human or monster," he said, "you still bleed."
They clashed.
It was a collision of titans. Trees shattered. The earth cracked. The beast roared flames—but Adam's katana glowed blue and sliced through the fire.
Then—silence.
The beast dropped.
One strike. Adam stood above its corpse.
The spy blinked—and Adam turned. Their eyes met. The spy vanished into the trees, disappearing like smoke.
Adam walked through the battlefield, bandits kneeling, weapons dropped.
"I did not come to kill. I came to pass. You tried to stop me. You failed."
He grabbed one of the surviving bandits. "Where did your leader get that vial?"
The man stammered. "H-He stole it… from a man in Varnok. An alchemist. Killed him. Said it was made with the blood of a beast… a beast from the royal stables."
Adam released him. "So… Varnok is still playing with forbidden things."
He mounted Maximus again. His children joined him. They rode past the bowed bandits in silence.
Back at the crossroads, Adam drew his blade. With a single strike, he carved a new inscription beneath the ancient ones:
> "I, Adam the Undying, walked the path of death—and left life behind me."
The stone glowed faintly, as if accepting the words.
The cloaked spy reached a hidden outpost. Within moments, a black raven was sent flying toward Varnok.
Inside the letter:
> "Unknown warrior approaching Varnok. Slaughtered thousands. Children move like shadows. Leader used forbidden vial—confirmed. Prepare the city. He's coming."
In the depths of Varnok, Sahabi's uncles read the message. Their expressions darkened.
"Adam…" one of them hissed. "So the legends were true."
The game had begun.
---
To be continued