The Crimson Emperor

[POV SAMO]

It's getting easier to enter Yrly, the hydra's plane. A realm that allows me to meditate on my Aura during sleep.

Something I realized while there: the darkness that surrounds that place is nothing more than the irrational manifestation of my Aura. I remember clearly.

I was meditating in the dark expanse—legs crossed, hands resting on my thighs, while the hydra lay quietly in the distance. I closed my eyes and began to release my Aura. As thin as it was dark, it blended with the atmosphere around me. Then I noticed: it wasn't just blending, it was absorbing all the shadows that lingered there.

For a few moments, I felt omnipresent… until someone woke me so we could continue our journey.

With the help of the coachmen, we broke down the camp. We'd been traveling for four days now, and something kept nagging at me: the old man who helped me days ago was nowhere in the caravan. No one seemed to know who he was. We climbed into the carriages and moved on.

The atmosphere was insufferably dull. All I could hear were the horses' hooves and the creaking of wooden wheels. Inside, all five of the other cadets were fast asleep.

I decided to read another book. I was skeptical—the last one was practically useless.

"Imagine a perfect semicircle... what a joke."

Aura Control: Threads.

"A high-level technique in Aura manipulation. It is based on the 'Whip' technique, which uses Aura to deliver strikes similar to lashings. However, instead of envisioning a weapon, imagine fine, resilient threads. The thinner they are, the greater the control required."

"Doesn't sound too hard," I thought.

With everyone still asleep, I released just enough Aura to cover a sheet of paper and began shaping it. Attempt after attempt… the best I managed was a crude cylinder, far from my goal. I had to stop—others were waking up. I should keep my Aura hidden… at least for now.

Later that afternoon, we arrived in a village where we'd spend the night. Finally, a cozy place to rest. Its name was Arich—a handful of wooden houses, distant farms raising cattle, and sprawling crop fields. It felt like a newly settled village.

We stayed in an inn rented exclusively for us. With a day off from travel, I decided to walk around the town. Everything seemed peaceful: children playing in the streets, people washing clothes by the river.

Then, something caught my attention.

"No… don't tell me you're giving up the search!" a woman cried, tears flooding her eyes as she clutched a guard's shoulders in desperation.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. It's been a week, and there's still nothing. She's old enough—probably ran away," said the guard, gently removing her hands.

"She had no reason to…"

A complicated situation. Runaway? Kidnapping? I couldn't tell.

Further ahead, I found a bulletin board full of local notices—highlighted shops, ads for the town's largest butcher, tourist spots… and below, a hand-drawn portrait of a young woman, framed by the word "Missing."

A graceful young woman with wavy hair cascading over her shoulders, a serene gaze, and a beauty mark beneath her left cheek.

"Could that be the one the woman was crying about?"

I continued on to a restaurant. Though still morning, I decided to have lunch. A simple place—wooden tables, checkered cloths, and empty chairs. I had arrived early.

Soon after I sat down, a pale, lanky man approached in a server's outfit.

"Good morning. Here you go," he said, handing me the menu.

"Just call me when you're ready." He turned swiftly and disappeared into the kitchen.

I sat down and leaned Fäste against the table.

The menu was filled with options—I spent several minutes just deciding. Others began to arrive, filling the once-empty tables. I even spotted some of my fellow cadets.

Eventually, I began eating a delicious stuffed meat dish. The last time I had something this good was back at the Duboir inn.

Then, I heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"Are you enjoying your meal, sir?" asked the same server from before.

"It's excellent!" I said with a full mouth. "How do you cook like this?"

He chuckled lightly. "We have excellent chefs here. My name's Jeff Freyson, by the way."

"Samo Gorynych," I introduced myself.

"Well, Mr. Samo, judging by your uniform and sword... are you a knight?"

I swallowed the last bite before answering. "Almost. Why?"

"No reason. It's just rare to see knights around here. The village is still new." He picked up my empty plate.

"All right then, how much was the meal?"

As he counted the fifteen silver coins I handed him, I asked,

"This morning, I saw a woman pleading with the guards not to give up on someone. Do you know what happened?"

He paused and looked at me. "Of course. That's the biggest news this week. Apparently, her daughter vanished while washing clothes by the river. No trace left behind."

That was strange. A village this small, and no one saw anything?

"But it's normal here," he continued. "After a week of searching, the guards usually give up."

"What? So this has happened before?" I asked, now more alert.

He nodded. "Yes. This year alone, there've been four disappearances—this one included. And every time, they stop searching after a week."

The year had barely begun, and already four gone?

"If you'll excuse me, I need to return to the kitchen," Jeff said, taking my dish and walking off.

"Well… time to head back to the inn."

I walked the path back to our lodging, but glanced once more at the village's news board. This time, the portrait was gone.

"It's been a week, huh…" I muttered before moving on.

The next day, we resumed our journey. The disappearances in Arich still lingered in my thoughts—but ultimately, it's not my concern.

I randomly pulled a book from my bag.

"Whatever it is, I'll read it," I thought, unwrapping the old volume.

The Forgotten God.

Looks like it's finally time to read this one.

Let's see…

> "In the beginning, when Primordial Artrax fell from the heavens, the land was engulfed in burning chaos and destruction. With his might, he shaped the world. The scorched earth was blanketed in green. The deep craters filled with endless water. The skies, once a void of darkness, now beamed with eternal blue.

Satisfied with what he had created, Artrax slept.

During his slumber, the salty drops of his labor birthed three Superior Gods:

Mathath, Lord of the Elements — the infinite-headed dragon, each head representing a different element.

Eonius, Guardian of Time and Space — keeper of the cosmic flow and dimensional limbo.

And lastly…"

Flick.

I turned the page—only to find it blank. Everything related to the "third" had vanished.

Still, I kept reading:

> "The three guided life while their father slept. All creatures were crafted by xxxx. Humans were considered their finest creation. Mathath taught them how to harness fire. Eonius helped them understand the boundaries of time and lifespan…"

While I read, the carriage came to a halt. The coachman opened the door.

"Excuse me, but we'll need to take a detour. The bridge across the High Cliffs has collapsed."

Worried murmurs filled the air.

"It'll be a detour of roughly two days, but don't worry. I'll explain everything to Commander Nikitich once we arrive."

We agreed—there wasn't much choice. Before he closed the door, I caught a glimpse of the broken bridge. The wood looked too decayed for regular use. It didn't seem like a natural accident.

Something's off…