Great Western Sea.
The sun shone brightly in a completely clear sky, casting its golden rays without obstruction; not a single cloud stood in its way.
In the middle of the ocean stood a vast island teeming with life: tall palm trees swaying in the breeze, countless exotic birds soaring through the air, and rare creatures hiding in the thickets.
However, upon reaching the shore, the view changed completely. An infinite marine horizon stretched out in front of the beach, although it was not the usual intense blue.
Its waters seed to be tinged with three shades: blood red, black, and light blue rged on the surface, forming a contrast as strange as it was fascinating.
It was unsettling, but at the sa ti, it gave the place a unique beauty.
All around him, enormous sea turtle shells slowly erged and disappeared, carried by the current and waves up to two ters high that crashed forcefully against the shore.
From above, with the gaze of a hawk soaring through the sky, the island revealed even more of its secret charm: among the vegetation, a city full of houses could be seen, vestiges of humanity that seed to defy the wild majesty of the surroundings.
In a large house overlooking the island town, a young man sat by the window. Sunlight bathed his figure, but there was vitality in his face; it was no longer a dull, dead expression, as if life had been taken from him.
Soren watched as families dressed in short-sleeved shirts and shorts, their skin tanned, chatted with each other with smiles on their lips and more.
The wounds covering his body had been treated day after day by the beautiful woman who cared for him. Her touch was firm, almost professional, but it lacked warmth. As she bandaged his torn flesh, her fingers moved with precision, like soone handling an object intended for later use.
Today was the day he would finally et the people who had "saved" him. An inevitable encounter, fraught with questions. He knew he would discover their intentions, and although he tried to convince himself that he could remain calm, anxiety coiled in his stomach like a poisonous snake.
He wasn’t naive: no one offers salvation without a price.
In those days, despite his injuries, he had managed to reach rank 7. A significant achievent for anyone... but in his mind, only one cruel truth echoed: he was still far below his younger sister’s rank.
That comparison was a shadow that haunted him, digging into his pride like a thorn that never healed.
That’s when the door opened. The sound of the hinges creaked in the air.
A figure slowly entered. It was the sa woman with tanned skin who had been bandaging him for the last few days. Her eyes lacked tenderness. There was not a hint of affection in her countenance, only cold professionalism, as if she were dealing with rchandise and not a human being.
"Follow . The masters have sent for you." His voice was dry and sharp, unlike before, when it had been sowhat seductive. He got straight to the point, without pleasantries, without even greeting him.
Soren swallowed hard. His mouth instantly went dry, as if he had been eating ashes. The pressure in his chest increased. Nerves began to take hold of him, tensing every muscle, filling his limbs with an unbearable feeling of stiffness.
But he took a deep breath, inhaling the dust-filled air, and exhaled slowly, forcing his body and mind to obey. A simple gesture, an illusion of control in the midst of emptiness.
With no other choice, he got up and began to follow the woman. His footsteps echoed in the silent hallways of the large house.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, but instead of bringing relief, it cast long, distorted shadows that seed to stalk him. The white, polished walls were immaculate, too clean.
The sound of the sea ca from afar. Far from being comforting, the constant roar of the waves crashing against the rocks reminded him of a funeral murmur.
After walking in silence for a few minutes, they finally reached their destination. The beautiful woman stopped in front of a colossal door, a gate so large that it seed to belong more to a forgotten temple than to a residence. Its surface was covered with strange engravings, symbols carved into blackened wood that seed to writhe in the dim light.
The woman said nothing. She simply raised her hand and, with a cold gesture, motioned for Soren to open it himself.
Soren closed his eyes. He inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly, and opened them again. The invisible weight pressing down on his chest seed to multiply in front of that door. With nerves gnawing at his core, he placed both hands on the wood and pushed.
The gate gave way with a low groan.
Behind the door, there was no light. All he saw was absolute darkness, a void so thick that it seed to want to devour him whole.
The air inside was heavy, dense, and every fiber of his being scread that he should not enter.
Soren hesitated. His steps stopped dead in front of the abyss. Then, a voice slipped out from inside.
It was a woman’s voice, soft and sweet as honey... but that sweetness brought no comfort, only poison.
"Go forward."
A chill ran down her spine. Her muscles tensed, and for a mont she thought about running away. But her treacherous legs moved forward. With trembling steps, she crossed the threshold.
The mont his foot touched the cold stone inside, sothing changed. The darkness receded. Colossal pillars erged from the shadows, one after another, rising like giant bones. Each was covered with luminous inscriptions.
The darkness gradually disappeared, replaced by a solemn and terrible glow. The place took on the form of a sanctuary. But it was not sacred in the human sense. It was a more ancient kind of sacredness, one that sought not protection or goodness, but absolute obedience. A space where the divine mingled with the mortal.
Deep within the place were two figures, one of them a man dressed in a purple and red suit, impeccably clean despite the surroundings. His face was a mask of stone, and the aura surrounding him made the air vibrate softly.
Nahim was a rank 3 demigod, also known as the blood whale.
At his side was a woman of breathtaking beauty. Her long, silky white hair fell like a cascade of shining silk. Her intense, piercing gray eyes had an irresistible magnetism. There was a dangerous mixture of sweetness and desire in her, a beauty so real that it burned just to look at her.
She was Vyreia, the Immortal Flower. One of the Thirteen Lilies.
"What is your na?" Nahim asked, his expression not changing in the slightest. His voice was deep and heavy.
"Soren dici..." Soren replied with difficulty. His throat was dry, and every word seed to co out slurred. He could feel the power of those two figures in front of him, a power that far exceeded that of his father, Zephyr, the man who was unreachable to him, an absolute pillar. Compared to them, Zephyr was nothing more than a distant shadow.
"Do you have any questions you’d like to ask us?" This ti, it was Vyreia who spoke. Her voice, soft as silk, filled the air with magnetism.
Soren was silent for a few seconds. He had many questions inside him, but only one managed to escape his lips.
"Why did you save ?"
"Because we wanted to," Vyreia spoke with indifferent calm, as if she were talking about the weather. "Not because you’re special, or because you have a great future. We simply saved you because we wanted to."
There were no lies in her words, no hidden ulterior motives. It was the naked, cruel truth. For soone of her rank, who had touched a fragnt of divinity, the life and death of mortals were nothing more than an insignificant detail. Soren’s existence was worth no more than a leaf blown by the wind.
"..." Soren’s lips trembled. He hadn’t expected that answer. He had hoped for so hidden reason, so greater purpose, even a lie that might give it aning. But no... his life had been saved on a whim, nothing more. And yet, he knew there was no kindness in it.
"You have no further questions," Nahim murmured. His deep voice bood like thunder.
Soren swallowed hard. His thoughts were racing, but he finally managed to articulate another question:
"Was I the only survivor?"
"We don’t know," Nahim replied with the sa indifference as before. "We were just passing through when we found you."
His answer was direct, unadorned. Soren wasn’t surprised: he had already suspected as much. Still, a void opened up in his chest. His mother... most likely, she was dead.
Silence stretched out until Soren finally asked the most important question:
"What do you want from ?"
"Straight to the point, huh?" Vyreia smiled, and her expression had a sensual undertone. "I like that."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes shining with cruel delight.
"The reason is quite simple, and you probably already know it. You are our slave."
The words struck like an unbreakable sentence.
Soren’s eyes widened; the air escaped from his lungs. For a mont, he thought about resisting, about rejecting this imposed fate. But then, slowly, he let out a long sigh, filled with helplessness. He wanted to refuse, to scream, to fight... but what could he do? His strength was too small.
In the end, he had no choice but to accept. Silently, he bowed his head.
Fate had chained him, and he could only drag those chains.
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