[Interlude: The Order & Grimoire]
The wind moaned outside the old mountain hut, dragging mist through the cracks in the walls. Inside, a single lantern burned weakly, its glow flickering across rough timber and uneven stone. The air smelled of smoke, damp earth, and tea.
Two men sat across a narrow wooden table.
Master Nox, his silver-streaked hair tied loosely behind his head, looked calm, his sharp eyes fixed on the man opposite him, a stranger dressed in a long black blazer, his sword resting by his knee. The stranger's posture was relaxed, but his presence filled the room like a drawn blade.
For a moment, neither spoke. Only the faint hiss of wind broke the silence.
"Master Nox," the stranger finally said, his tone measured and cold. "You have to hand over the Grimoire."
Nox tilted his head slightly. The corners of his lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.
"So that's why you came," he said softly. "I wondered when the Order would send someone."
The man's expression didn't change. "You know what that book contains. It cannot remain with you."
"Can't, or you don't want it to?" Nox replied, his voice a quiet challenge.
The man's eyes hardened. The blade moved before words could follow.
Steel flashed in the lamplight. The table split cleanly in two. Nox slid back just in time, his chair toppling as sparks leapt from the floor. The lantern shattered, plunging the hut into half-darkness.
Then, chaos.
The stranger's sword swept in a graceful arc, fast and deadly. Nox raised his arm, summoning a flicker of black light that deflected the blow, the impact sending tremors through the room. Wood cracked beneath their feet as they exchanged strikes, sword against energy, precision against experience.
A sharp whistle pierced the night.
The door exploded open. The wind rushed in, carrying a flurry of snow and the scent of iron.
Through the doorway poured more than ten armed men, masked and silent. Their boots struck the wooden floor in unison, blades glinting under the faint moonlight.
"Ah," Nox muttered under his breath. "An ambush."
The first man lunged. Nox sidestepped, driving a burst of energy into his chest. The attacker flew backward, crashing through the wall. Another came from behind — Nox ducked, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted, breaking the joint before shoving a dagger into his throat.
They came in waves, coordinated and ruthless.
Nox movements were fluid, almost inhuman. Every step, every strike carried precision born of centuries of discipline. His palm flared with dark energy that cut through armor and bone alike. A gust of wind burst from him as he spun, sending three men tumbling into the flames now spreading across the hut.
Sparks filled the air. The roof creaked and began to collapse.
But they kept coming. One blade caught his shoulder; another grazed his ribs. Blood splattered the floor. Nox retaliated with a strike that shattered the ground, the Shockwave flinging the attackers aside like leaves in a storm.
Within moments, the hut was a ruin — smoke, blood, and fire painting the chaos.
Bodies lay still, but the man in the black blazer still stood. His sword gleamed, untouched by the flames.
"Impressive," he said quietly, stepping over the corpses. "But your time has passed, Master Nox "
Nox's breathing grew heavier. His wounds burned, his strength waning, but his gaze remained sharp.
The stranger moved first. Their blades met again, ringing through the night. Sparks danced around them as they clashed across the collapsing hut — walls crumbling, embers swirling like dying stars. The stranger's speed was relentless, each strike faster and heavier than the last.
Nox countered with everything he had. His hand carved black sigils into the air, releasing bursts of energy that shook the ground. But the man pressed forward, unharmed, cutting through Nox defenses. One final slash tore across Nox chest, sending him staggering to one knee.
"It's over," the man said.
Nox looked up, blood running down his chin, his eyes burning with defiance.
"Not yet."
He pressed his palm to the floor.
The runes on his arm ignited, and a violent surge of dark energy erupted outward. The explosion shattered what remained of the hut, swallowing everything in fire and light.
When the smoke finally cleared, the mountain was silent. The man in black stood amid the wreckage, his coat torn, his sword cracked. Around him, the corpses of his men smoldered in the ash.
"He escaped," he whispered, eyes narrowing.
Far down the mountain path, a lone figure stumbled through the falling snow — Master Nox. His cloak was torn, his breathing ragged. Each step left a smear of blood on the cold stone.
The night was closing in, the world around him fading into fog. In the distance, through the thick veil of mist, rose the ancient treeline of the Forbidden Forest a place shunned even by the Order.
"Not yet," he murmured, forcing himself forward. "I can't die… not before the Grimoire is safe."
He vanished into the silver mist, swallowed by the forest's silence. Behind him, the flames of the mountain hut flickered weakly and then died, leaving nothing but smoke drifting into the dark sky.
***
Arman was checking the new thing he had obtained. He was getting excited and opened his Codex; there was a new item in the artifacts section.
[Grimoire of Rudra Pathway]
Description:
This manual was created by the First Emperor of Destruction, as he reached the peak of mysticism, going beyond human, becoming a god. He created this after reaching the pinnacle of Singularity. It contains the pathway of achieving Rudra.
Rank: Unknown
Attribute: [Contains all the knowledge starting from Seed to reaching Singularity]
As Arman was checking the item, a sudden realization struck him, he had forgotten, this place had been abandoned for centuries, and the only path was through the Grand Hall. He had spent almost two years in this place, and not a single person had come to the city.
But the blood in front of the dead figure or man was pretty fresh, as if he had been here not so long ago. But there was no way he came here without killing the Dark Knight. That
only meant one thing he came from somewhere else. Possibly, there was an underground pathway.
"And this book… it was also brought by him," Arman thought.
The dead person seemed powerful. Even if there was a path from here, how did he die? Once again, Arman thought about checking the old man's body. There were a few cracks that could be traced to a big fight he had gotten into, but it seemed he was killed by poison in the end.
Arman looked around, searching for the path that body had come from, but there was none. "There must be some kind of mechanism then," he thought.
He began to search the walls, pressing stones and tracing carvings, but nothing reacted. Then, his eyes caught something in the corner — a bookshelf, oddly out of place amid the
ruin, now that he looked at it again.
He pushed it aside.
With a heavy grind of stone on stone, the shelf shifted, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling down into darkness.
Before going toward the narrow staircase, Arman checked everything he had and made up his mind.
First, he checked the grimoire because it could give information related to his power and also make him more powerful.
As he opened the grimoire, he found the text written in a strange language he had never seen before. Yet, the Codex's language was different from that of the grimoire—and far more familiar to him. That could only mean one thing.
"The person who made the Codex should have the same origin as him since the language in the grimoire was different and similar to some runes engraved into the remaining intact parts of the ruins," he thought.
The text in the grimoire stated that there are seven stages to achieve mysticism. There are seven ranks — the starting rank is Seed → Emerge → Flare → Inferno → Eclipse → Singularity. Each rank has its own three stages of evolution. The ranks for all pathways are the same.
The Rudra Pathway is a pathway of Destruction. To become a Seed of Rudra (Destruction), you have .…
'Wait… I am already a Seed. How did that happen? And I'm a Seed without a pathway. if Seed is the first rank of any pathway, how did I become one?'
'But to grow, I need a pathway. I think I need to learn more about this before trying anything. For that, I need to find my way out of this damned place,' Arman thought and made his way toward the staircase.
***
After walking for a while, he reached a canal-like chamber. In its center lay a vast pond, its surface shimmering with faint blue light. The glow rippled gently, reflecting across the damp stone walls like living mist.
Across the pond stood a large, intricately crafted door. its surface adorned with exquisite details. A majestic dragon was carved into the wood, its scales so finely etched that they seemed almost alive, shimmering faintly in the blue light. The craftsmanship was breathtaking, unlike anything Arman had seen before.