A young man with black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin lay motionless, one hand resting over his forehead. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, eyes empty and expressionless.
"When will this worthless life finally end?" he wondered bitterly.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside. Voices rang through the air—excited, desperate, full of hope.
"The Twelve Paths are finally opening after a thousand years!"
"Yes! I can finally leave this miserable world behind."
The young man—Alden—rose from his bed and stepped outside, drawn by the noise. Spotting an old man among the crowd, he approached him.
"What's going on? Why is everyone so excited?" he asked.
The old man scoffed. "You don't know? The Twelve Paths open today. These shitheads are celebrating, thinking they'll conquer them. These imbeciles have no idea what awaits inside—only death and madness lie beyond those gates."
"The Twelve Gates—said to be the dwelling places of twelve immortals who once descended from the immortal world. Their purpose: to seek out mortals with the potential to ascend and join them. According to legend, the gates open once every millennium, remaining accessible for a decade. Each path is its own realm, filled with strange beings and trials. Only by conquering all twelve paths can a mortal transcend and enter the immortal world.
"So the myths were true after all, those twelve towering, pillar-like structures scattered across the world weren't just indestructible relics—they were gateways to immortality." Alden thinks.
"Mother… is this the chance you once spoke of?" he wondered, eyes lifting to the sky.
He exhaled softly, a whisper escaping his lips."Very well then… maybe this worthless life still has a purpose after all. Now then, I should get ready to explore."
Alden rushed back into his house, descending into the dust-choked basement. There, resting in the shadows, lay a rusty old sword. Without hesitation, he slung it across his back and set off.
Hours passed beneath the shifting skies as he journeyed across barren roads and tangled woods. Eventually, he arrived at his destination—the threshold of the first path: The Verdant Path.
Before him loomed a colossal, tower-like structure. A single, massive door stood at its base, radiating a quiet power. Crowds had already gathered, their eyes fixed on the gateway to another world.
"The gate is opening, please stepback." A voice echoed from inside the door.
With a deep groan, the massive door began to part, spilling out a greenish light that shimmered like fog under moonlight. At its center spun a vast portal, alive with energy..
One by one, people began stepping into the entrance.
Alden stood just before the entrance. He paused for a moment, taking a long breath as the strange energy danced across his skin. Is this the beginning of something… or the end? Without hesitation, he stepped into the portal.
In an instant, the world twisted.
He was no longer at the gate—but in a dense, desolate jungle painted in hues of green. Vines dangled like snakes from towering trees. He was alone.
All others who entered had been scattered, each dropped into a different part of this vast, wild realm. Then, as the last person crossed through, the great door slammed shut with an echo that reached far beyond the walls.
A voice—deep and ancient—filled the air, as though the very trees whispered it:
"I am Syltheran, the immortal who governs the Verdant Path. This is no test of strength alone. To survive here, you must evolve. Only those who overcome despair, endure the wild, and rise above their limits will find the path forward. As for how to clear the path, you must find it on your own. You have 2 years."
"What the fuck is going on?" Alden says to himself.