Four Years After the Great Earthquake— In the Southern Ruins.

  “Do you sense anything unnatural, Jina?” one of the team members asked, his eyes scanning the eerie remains of the southern ruins.

  Jina furrowed her brow, her senses stretched thin. “I sense… creatures,” she replied, her voice tinged with unease, “but they have no mana.”

  Her teammate’s frown deepened. “No mana? How many are there?”

  She closed her eyes briefly, focusing. “I can detect only ten… but there might be more hidden.”

  “Ten or more,” he muttered, weighing the risk. “We should call the other Necfars. It’s too dangerous to approach alone. I’ll stay here. You go and bring the others.”

  “Understood, Master,” Jina said with a slight bow before disappearing into the thickening mist.

  As the lone figure waited for reinforcements, the ground beneath him trembled ominously.

  Without warning, dark tentacles burst from the earth, coiling tightly around his legs and arms, immobilizing him.

  “WHAT IS THIS?!” he shouted, struggling fiercely against the binding grasp.

  “Stop squirming, human. It’s useless,” came a cold voice from the shadows.

  A figure stepped forward—humanoid in shape but grotesquely wrong. Its skin was pale and unnervingly smooth, with empty eye sockets that seemed to suck in the light.

  The Necfar stared in horror. “What… what are you?” he demanded, his mind reeling. “How could something like this even exist?”

  The creature tilted its head with an eerie politeness. “Me? Oh, how rude of me. I should have introduced myself.”

  It paused, then smiled—a chilling, unnatural gesture. “My name is Helv. And I don’t belong here.”

  The Necfar’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you don’t belong here? Then where do you belong?”

  Helv chuckled softly, the sound dripping with mockery. “Do you really think I’d tell you that? Now, be still while I rip your heart out.”

  Sensing the attack, the Necfar summoned his strength and broke free from the tentacles at the last moment, leaping backward to evade the creature’s clawed strike.

  “Stay still, human. Don’t make this harder for me,” Helv hissed as he advanced.

  The Necfar vanished and reappeared behind Helv, delivering a fierce kick to his abdomen that sent the creature crashing into a ruined wall.

  “You talk too much for a monster,” the Necfar said coldly, holding his stance.

  Helv rose, dark smoke swirling ominously around him. “I believe your sensory friend said there were ten or more of us, correct?” His laugh was dark and menacing. “Your heart will make the perfect offering to God.”

  Before the Necfar could react, Helv vanished again—only to reappear instantly, his claw-like fingers piercing deep into the man’s chest, severing his heart.

  “H-How…?” the Necfar gasped, blood pouring from the wound.

  Moments later, he was lifeless.

  Helv looked down at the corpse, spat disdainfully, and muttered, “Didn’t need your help, smoke-face. But whatever.”

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  From behind a ruined tower, the tall grey monster with smoke where its head should have been emerged—the same terrifying entity seen before.

  “I’m surprised you were injured by a human,” the tall creature said, its voice deep and trembling. “I thought you needed assistance.”

  Helv rolled his eyes. “It’s called toying with my prey. Ever heard of it?” he replied sarcastically.

  The tall monster ignored him. “I sense more humans approaching,” it said before dissolving into a wisp of black smoke.

  “Why is that guy the leader…” Helv grumbled, vanishing shortly after.

  Minutes later, Jina returned with reinforcements—only to find her master lying lifeless on the ground, a hollow hole where his heart once beat.

  “Master…” she whispered, trembling. Her knees buckled as tears welled in her eyes.

  Unable to contain her anguish, she screamed into the desolate ruins.

  “MASTEEEER!”

  Her cry echoed hauntingly through the empty, broken land.

  Two Days Later

  Four years had passed since the great earthquake that had reshaped Zephyria, and just two days since the tragedy unfolded in the southern ruins. It was also four years since I was entrusted with a divine mission: to gather knowledge and prepare for the destiny laid before me.

  In those years, I had learned much about the world—its history, the enigmatic nature of mana, and fragments about my father’s past. He was a high-ranking Necfar, a figure of authority and mystery within the kingdom. Yet, despite all I uncovered, the true essence of what it meant to be a Necfar remained elusive.

  That day, my father took me to a meeting of the Necfars. For a child of four, it was a rare and profound experience—a glimpse into the lives of those who shaped the fate of our land. I sat quietly on his lap as members gathered, their faces a mix of warmth and solemn duty. Many smiled gently at me, a brief comfort amid the gravity of their discussion.

  The king soon arrived, his presence commanding silence as he took his seat at the head of the table.

  “So, is everyone here?” he asked his assistant.

  “Yes, my lord. All are present,” came the respectful reply.

  The king’s expression grew grave. “The reason for this assembly is the incident at the Southern Ruins two days ago.”

  Murmurs rippled through the hall, a mixture of concern and unease.

  “A-rank Necfar Zhong Lu participated in that mission?” a woman with flowing white hair inquired.

  “Yes,” the king responded solemnly. “Following the operation, C-rank Necfar Jina returned with disturbing news.”

  Jina rose, hands trembling but voice steady. “While Master and I searched the ruins, I sensed creatures without mana. Master instructed me to alert the others while he stayed behind.”

  Her eyes glistened with tears. “When I returned, we found him dead. His heart… torn from his body.”

  A heavy silence fell, the weight of her words settling like dust in the room.

  The king spoke softly, “You may sit, Jina.”

  She nodded, wiping her eyes and lowering herself into her seat.

  The discussion shifted to defenses and gathering intelligence on these mana-less entities, but my thoughts lingered on the gruesome detail—the ripped-out heart. Something about it stirred a deep, unshakable feeling within me.

  As the meeting ended, my father spoke with an elderly S-rank Necfar. I listened quietly, feigning disinterest, until a sudden sharp pain tore through my chest.

  I coughed violently, blood staining my lips.

  “Son!” my father exclaimed, dropping to his knees. The old woman placed her hand gently on my chest, a faint, soothing glow emanating from her palm. It wasn’t the magic I knew—it was older, purer—but the pain eased immediately.

  “I have healed him,” she said softly. “But you must take him home, Zekra.”

  He lifted me carefully. “Thank you. I will.”

  I slipped into sleep before we even left the room.

  Then—

  That voice returned.

  “Listen, child. Your path will not be easy. Your next task is to learn about mana—not openly, not where others can see. You must study in secret.”

  The voice’s tone was firm, yet not unkind. “Knowledge is your weapon, but it must remain hidden. Your survival—and the fate of many—depends on it.”

  It paused before continuing, “I will guide you when the time is right. Until then, fulfill your purpose quietly. Do not reveal what you are to anyone.”

  When I awoke, I was cradled in my mother’s arms.

  “Are you awake, dear?” she asked softly, worry etched in her voice.

  I nodded faintly, my mind still heavy.

  How can I train mana without drawing attention? I wondered. Does the command mean to learn quietly, or simply to observe? Father will teach me, but must I hide this part of me from everyone else?

  Deep inside, a quiet certainty settled. God’s orders were not mere suggestions—they were absolute. To survive, to fulfill my destiny, I would have to obey, no matter the cost.