Chapter Six: Sean, Lord of the Unknown — Part One
John sat on the edge of his bed in silence.
The light coming through the window was pale, falling across his face in slanted lines that resembled old scars.
His black eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, where the Ront family crest hung.
The silver wolf that had once symbolized pride and authority… now looked like nothing more than decoration on a lifeless wall.
John inhaled slowly, then stood up and tightened his black coat.
He spoke quietly, as if reminding himself.
"Time to work… this is no time for crying."
He opened the door and headed toward the lower floor.
The long stone corridor leading to the training hall was illuminated by faint blue spirit lamps, pulsing softly as if they were the heartbeat of the place itself.
With every step he took, the silence grew thicker until only the echo of his footsteps remained.
He entered the vast hall.
Massive metal pillars stretched toward the high ceiling, and the ground was covered with carefully carved spiritual circles.
Generations of the Ront family had trained here.
And many ambitions had died here as well.
John moved toward a side corridor.
The air changed.
The smell of iron, fire, and sweat filled the space.
Dozens of small rooms lined the corridor, each door engraved with a different symbol.
John spoke quietly.
"Refinement rooms… here family members forge their weapons, temper them, or weave special runes to bind them to their Paths. Tedious work… but it's the foundation of survival."
He continued walking.
The corridor opened into another hall, larger and heavier in atmosphere.
The doors here were wider, and the walls were covered with living spiritual markings that slowly shifted like the breathing of a sleeping creature.
John stopped.
"The Breakthrough Hall.
Anyone who wishes to surpass their limits enters here in total isolation.
Some come out stronger…
others never come out at all.
The success rate?
Less than one percent."
A faint bitter smile crossed his face before he continued walking.
At the end of the corridor stood a massive door.
Carved into it was the silver wolf of the Ront family, merged with a black circle representing the Unknown.
John pushed the door open slowly.
A deep sound echoed, like a muffled roar.
The room was enormous.
Its ceiling disappeared into darkness.
At the center was a pure stone circle engraved with strange twisting lines.
Floating spirit candles illuminated the chamber, drifting gently as if moving with the breath of the room.
A massive guard stood beside the entrance, wearing dark armor. His eyes shimmered faintly with wind energy.
John approached him calmly.
"No matter what happens… do not let anyone disturb me.
No matter the reason.
Even if someone in the family dies… do not approach this door."
The guard bowed respectfully.
"Understood, Sir John."
John stepped inside and closed the door.
When he was alone, he reached into the space of his soul and pulled out a small stone.
It was transparent, gray, shifting constantly as if living mist moved inside it.
John stared at it for a moment.
"The Stone of the Unknown… an unexpected gain.
Neptune… you probably had no idea what you brought me.
Thank you."
He sat in the center of the circle and placed the stone before him.
Raising his right hand, he slowly poured his energy into it.
The energy was dark gray, like smoke drifting from his palm into the stone.
At first… nothing happened.
Then the stone trembled slightly.
A faint sound came from within it, like a distant groan from the depths of something ancient.
The gray light intensified.
The mist inside the stone slowly formed the vague outline of a face.
Its features were unclear, like the reflection of a nameless being.
John smiled faintly.
"I hope you truly belonged to an Adept.
If so… perhaps I can break the glass ceiling that fate placed above us."
He closed his eyes and released all of his energy.
The ground trembled.
The carvings in the circle ignited with dark black light.
Threads of pale energy burst from the stone and wrapped around John's body like chains.
The room fell silent.
But something in the air changed.
As if the chamber itself had awakened after centuries of sleep.
The outside world had no idea that John Ront had just taken the first step toward the unknown that would change everything.
The moment John's energy surged into the stone, his senses were cut off from the outside world.
It felt as if his body dissolved while his consciousness was pulled violently through an endless tunnel.
Then suddenly…
everything stopped.
He opened his eyes.
He was standing in a narrow street.
Old brick buildings leaned dangerously. Wooden roofs sagged with age. Gray smoke drifted from crude chimneys.
This was not the modern world.
This was the Middle Ages.
The air was heavier. The cold harsher.
Yet John felt nothing.
Because he had no body here.
He was only a witnessing spirit.
A newborn baby cried in a dark alley.
John drifted closer.
A poor woman wrapped the child in filthy cloth, placed him at the door of a crumbling orphanage… and ran away.
John immediately understood.
This was the owner of the legacy.
"His name… Sean."
And from that moment John watched his life unfold year after year.
At four years old, Sean was a starving street child.
Thin. Fragile.
His red eyes were filled with hunger and fear.
He had no parents.
Only the cold orphanage that showed no mercy.
He begged in the streets for coins.
But everything he collected was taken by the fat, heartless orphanage owner.
If he returned without enough money…
he was beaten.
At six years old, crying no longer helped.
So he learned to steal.
He learned to run.
He learned how to hide his pain behind a smile.
He began bringing back more money.
Not only for himself.
But because there was a girl in the orphanage who always followed him.
Carol.
She was a year younger.
Soft blonde hair.
Blue eyes like the sky.
She carried a small basket of flowers and tried to sell them on the streets.
She was far too innocent for such a cruel world.
One day she failed to gather enough money.
Fear filled her eyes as she cried.
Without hesitation, Sean gave her everything he had.
He took the punishment in her place.
That day the beating was savage.
His leg was broken.
John watched silently.
He wasn't seeing memories.
He was watching a life.
The orphanage owner was a middle-aged man, obese and cruel beyond measure.
A man whose inferiority complex had turned him into a monster who vented his misery on children.
One day Sean witnessed something that never left his memory.
He saw the orphanage owner kneeling.
Kissing the feet of a fourteen-year-old boy.
But that boy was no ordinary child.
He was a Path Master.
His aura alone could crush the spirit of ordinary humans.
The boy kicked the man in the face.
"Do not raise your head when you see me.
Whenever I stand before you… kiss my feet."
The orphanage owner laughed through the blood.
"Thank you… for your mercy… my lord."
That day Sean understood the truth.
In this world…
humans were at the bottom.
Above them were monsters.
And above everything…
Path Masters.
Years passed.
Sean turned ten.
He had grown taller.
His black hair thicker.
But his red eyes were no longer those of a child.
Carol stayed beside him.
They were inseparable.
Sean played the flute.
Carol sang beside him.
Her warm voice made the gray streets seem less cruel.
That was how they survived.
On fragile hope.
Until the day came.
Sean woke up…
and she was gone.
He searched.
He screamed.
He ran through the streets.
Nothing.
Then he learned the truth.
Carol had been sold.
Sold to a notorious Path Master obsessed with pleasure.
She had no choice.
Sean had no power.
The weak had only fate… and fate was cruel.
John stood frozen as he watched.
His chest tightened even though this was only a spiritual memory.
But it felt like more than a story.
It was a tragedy.
And at that moment…
the stone trembled again.
Something within John's soul responded.
Years passed within the stone.
Sean reached the age of twelve.
He stood in a city square playing his flute.
The melody was sad.
Beautiful.
It silenced the noise around him.
A man stopped in front of him.
His clothes were elegant and clean.
Different from the filth of this world.
Sean immediately recognized it.
The aura of a Path Master.
He froze.
Then dropped to his knees instantly.
His forehead pressed against the dirt.
No pride.
No dignity.
Like a dog begging for mercy.
"Thank you… my lord."
The man smiled coldly.
"I'll buy this child. He will serve me."
He threw a bag of coins on the ground.
"Pay his owner."
Sean lifted his head slightly.
"It is an honor… my lord."
Inside the stone John watched silently.
He felt the crushing weight of despair that forced such submission.
The scene shifted.
Sean arrived at the house of the Path Master Kai.
But he was not welcomed.
Not treated as a servant.
Instead he was shoved into a dark, damp prison.
Cages filled the room.
Inside them were children his age.
Some crying.
Some silent.
Some staring at nothing.
Sean shouted in fear.
"What is this place?!"
The guard laughed coldly.
Night came.
Sean woke up chained in the air.
His arms raised above him.
His feet barely touching the ground.
Iron cut into his flesh.
His body was nearly naked.
Dried blood covered his skin.
Cold gnawed at his bones.
In front of him stood Kai.
A powerful Path Master.
Majestic.
But his smile was monstrous.
In his hand was a long shining knife.
He stepped closer.
"Don't be afraid, little one.
It won't take long.
I'm Kai… a Path merchant.
Normally a kind man.
But someone important requested a special favor."
He raised the knife near Sean's face.
"He wants… human eunuchs.
Several of them."
Sean's eyes widened in terror.
His body trembled.
"No… please stop… I can work… I'll do anything… please…"
Kai gently patted his head.
"Calm down.
Be obedient.
You'll remain alive.
That's a good thing… isn't it?"
Sean screamed.
Cried until his voice broke.
Then came a scream unlike any other.
Not just pain.
But the sound of a soul breaking.
Inside the stone John froze.
Even as a spirit he felt his heart tighten.
He saw the blood.
The flesh.
The unbearable agony.
And Kai's cold smile…
like a butcher accustomed to watching life shatter.
Then darkness came.
When the light returned…
morning had arrived.
Sean lay on the cold floor.
Weak.
Broken.
His eyes empty.
Something inside him had been taken forever.
He slowly raised his hand.
He didn't cry.
Didn't scream.
Didn't move.
He was finished.
John stood there helpless.
Not only horror filled him.
But anger.
And then the stone trembled again.
As if this tragedy was not the end.
But the beginning.