The Eastern Plains had not known peaceful silence in many years.
How could they?
The people of these lands carried little interest in peace. Kingdoms rose only to challenge their neighbors. Alliances lasted only until ambition outgrew them.
Dominance was the only language spoken across the Eastern world.
Long ago the winds carried the gentle scent of pollen and morning dew across endless fields of green. Those who had lived long enough still spoke of it in quiet voices, as though remembering a dream.
Now the winds carried something else.
Ash.
Iron.
Blood.
For generations the races of the Eastern world fought beneath countless banners and for countless reasons. Power. Territory. Pride. Hatred passed down through bloodlines.
The feuds had become so old that many warriors no longer remembered why the wars had begun.
The world seemed destined to devour itself.
Until she appeared.
A young dark-elf whose power would shake the foundations of the Eastern world.
She stood taller than most of her kin, with radiant brown skin and deep violet eyes that burned with fierce conviction. Long curls framed her face and moved like living flame when she fought.
Every strike she threw carried the fury of a storm.
Every step she took changed the course of history.
Her name was Lazuri.
Among the dark elves, Lazuri was considered… different.
Not because of her strength.
But because of what flowed within her blood.
The dark elves possessed something no other race could claim.
Infernal blood.
A power feared across the world.
Unstable. Violent. Capable of destroying cities when left unchecked.
Many races believed the dark elves were descendants of demonkin, cursed with the lingering flames of hell itself.
Perhaps that belief was not entirely wrong.
Those born into Lazuri's bloodline lived under two possible fates.
If they showed promise, they were raised in luxury and trained until their power could be shaped into a weapon.
If they did not…
They were quietly disposed of by the three great clans of their people.
Lazuri was something far beyond promise.
Her body possessed extraordinary regenerative abilities, allowing her to survive wounds that would kill most warriors. And the flames she wielded grew stronger the more intense her emotions became.
Anger fueled them.
Determination sharpened them.
Pain made them burn hotter.
Sometimes… dangerously so.
Those closest to Lazuri often wondered whether the infernal fire she carried would one day consume her entirely.
Yet the same fire that threatened to destroy her also drove her forward.
Her passion burned brighter than her flames.
And under that passion, Lazuri accomplished what no ruler, warlord, or king had managed to do in centuries.
She united seventy-nine percent of the Eastern lands under a single coalition.
Some followed her out of fear.
Many followed her out of respect.
Among the faeries and beastkin her name was spoken with cautious admiration. Even the ancient giants and the proud dragonborn recognized the strength of her will.
To the oppressed peoples of the East, Lazuri became something more than a warrior.
She became hope.
They called her The Gift of Hope.
But no legend rises alone.
Standing beside Lazuri was a man whose name carried its own weight across the Eastern lands.
Levi.
The future head of the powerful Kurokishi clan.
The Kurokishi were renowned for their discipline and honor. Their warriors never fought alone, always entering battle in pairs. They believed unity between two fighters created a strength greater than any army.
For more than two thousand years the Kurokishi had fought for the liberation of dark elves across the Eastern world.
Unlike many others, the Kurokishi did not fear Lazuri.
They revered her.
They were the keepers of her infernal bloodline and the strongest supporters of her ideals.
Together, Lazuri and Levi spent five years building the fragile unity the Eastern world had never known.
For the first time in generations, the endless wars began to slow.
The Eastern Plains, once drowned in blood, started to believe peace might truly exist.
But even legends cannot escape fate.
Without warning, Lazuri abandoned the front lines of war and returned to her homeland with three hundred of her most loyal followers.
Rumors spread quickly across the Eastern world.
Some believed she had foreseen a disaster.
Others believed her infernal power had finally begun to destroy her from within.
The truth was far simpler.
Lazuri was carrying a child.
The pregnancy was not easy.
For months her body weakened as the infernal power within her struggled violently against the fragile life she carried.
Many feared the flames within her would take both mother and child before the birth ever came.
Yet Lazuri endured.
She refused to die before seeing her child with her own eyes.
Eight months later, on a quiet night far from the battlefields she had once ruled, a young boy was born.
The moment he cried, the room fell silent.
Lazuri held him in her arms only once.
But in that moment, her expression softened in a way none of her soldiers had ever seen.
She smiled.
Her voice carried through the medical ward—not with sorrow, but with pride.
"His name will be Tamura."
She gently placed a trembling hand against the child's cheek before looking toward Levi.
"Treat him… as you have treated me."
Levi held them both close.
For the first time in years, the great warrior of the Kurokishi could not speak.
He kissed the woman he loved one final time as her strength faded.
And just like that…
The fire that had united the Eastern world went out.
But legends do not truly die. Do they?
Weeks had passed since Lazuri's death.
At last, the three great clans gathered.
The hall was filled with tension as elders, warriors, and advisors argued beneath flickering lantern light. This meeting would determine the future of the dark elves… and the fate of the legacy Lazuri had left behind.
An elder of the Kazukuro clan rose from his seat, slamming his staff against the stone floor.
"Enough. All of you."
His voice was cold and raspy, but it cut through the room like a blade. The arguments quieted, though the tension remained.
A young woman from the Kazukuro stepped forward.
"We cannot sit idle any longer," she said. "Too much time has passed without action."
From the far side of the chamber, a man from the Kowagara clan spoke from the shadows.
"She's right."
His voice was low, controlled.
"If we are to survive, we must act now. The covenant is unfinished. These alliances Lazuri built are fragile… and she died before the unification was complete."
Murmurs spread across the chamber.
"What are we supposed to do?" someone demanded. "Our people need this alliance to hold!"
Another voice cut through the room.
"Never mind that."
All eyes turned toward the speaker.
"What are we going to do about the other issue in the medical ward?"
The implication was obvious.
Tamura.
Several elders exchanged uneasy glances.
"He's right," one of them said quietly. "We cannot avoid that matter."
Another voice followed.
"We must deal with the boy."
The room grew heavier.
This meeting had been called without many of the core members of Lazuri's former faction. Even more concerning, several key figures of the Kurokishi clan were absent.
At a moment this crucial in dark elf history, many of the people closest to the matter had been deliberately excluded.
One elder leaned forward.
"We could send the boy away."
Another elder scoffed.
"And risk the Kurokishi finding out? That would spark a civil war."
The woman who had spoken earlier shook her head.
"And that's assuming the secret stays within these walls."
Silence fell for a moment as the possibilities settled in.
"If the information leaks," another elder muttered, "other factions could intercept the child."
"Or worse," someone added.
"They could kill him… and use his bloodline as proof of what we truly are."
The room shifted uneasily.
The faeries and high elves had long accused the dark elves of harboring demonic blood.
Tamura's existence would only strengthen their hatred.
"They would flatten us," one elder said grimly. "Our clans are strong… but we cannot fight the entire Eastern Plains."
The arguments continued for hours.
Voices rose.
Accusations flew.
Every proposal collapsed beneath fear and suspicion.
Until suddenly—
Something changed.
A presence settled over the room.
Heavy.
Commanding.
Dangerous.
Then a deep voice spoke from the far end of the hall.
"It's pretty damn rude…"
The voice carried easily through the chamber.
"…to hold a meeting about a man's child without inviting him."
Every head turned toward the entrance.
A tall figure stepped into the lantern light.
Brown skin.
Deep red eyes.
Long grey hair falling past his shoulders.
A dark overcoat draped across his broad frame.
For a brief moment, the flickering light revealed a sharp grin.
"If anyone else from my clan had walked into this meeting," the man continued calmly, "you'd all be dead already."
The grin widened slightly.
"But it was Lazuri's wish that we remain united."
A ripple of tension swept through the hall.
Levi Kurokishi had arrived.
Now the head of his clan.
The room that had been filled with shouting only moments before became strangely quiet.
For the next five hours the debate continued.
But now the tone had changed.
No one raised their voice.
No one shouted accusations.
It was as if Levi controlled the entire chamber simply by standing in it.
Still, no agreement could be reached.
Eventually Levi lifted his hand and clapped once.
The sound echoed sharply through the hall.
Silence fell instantly.
"I've heard enough."
His voice was calm, but final.
"The child is not up for debate."
He slowly looked around the chamber, meeting the gaze of every elder present.
"I will not allow any harm to come to him."
His eyes hardened as they settled on the leaders of the clans.
"Do you understand me?"
For a moment no one spoke.
Because in that silence—
They could feel it.
The quiet, suffocating pressure of Levi's killing intent filling the room.
Levi's decision came that same night.
He did not trust the council.
Not the elders.
Not the alliances Lazuri had fought so hard to build.
Too many people feared the boy.
Fear made people desperate… and desperate people made dangerous choices.
Levi refused to gamble his son's life on fragile politics.
So before the next sunrise, he disappeared.
Wrapped in a heavy cloak, Levi carried Tamura through the quiet halls of the Kurokishi compound. Most of the clan slept, unaware that their new leader was abandoning the homeland he had sworn to protect.
Tamura slept peacefully in his arms.
Too young to know the world already wanted him dead.
Levi crossed the Eastern Plains alone.
Through war-torn fields where the ground still smelled of iron and smoke.
Through ruined villages that had once cheered Lazuri's name.
Through the Deadlands, a scar of twisted earth where even the wind seemed afraid to linger.
The journey took weeks.
Then months.
More than once Levi felt eyes watching him from the darkness.
Assassins.
Spies.
Hunters sent by those who feared what Tamura might one day become.
Each time they tried, they died.
Levi buried their bodies beneath the dirt and continued west.
Eventually the landscape began to change.
The broken lands of the East slowly gave way to something different.
Order.
Cities stood side by side with forests. Roads were well-kept. Merchants of different races walked the same streets without drawing weapons.
It was the first place Levi had ever seen where elves, beastkin, giants, and humans moved together without suspicion.
This was the nation Lazuri once spoke about.
The place they had visited only briefly years ago.
Xathia.
A kingdom with a pristine reputation.
A land built on unity between races.
If anywhere in the world could hide Tamura…
It was here.
Levi stood silently outside the towering city gates as night fell.
For a long time he simply looked down at the child sleeping in his arms.
Tamura's small hand curled tightly around one of Levi's fingers.
For a moment the warrior who had terrified battlefields across the Eastern world felt something he had not allowed himself to feel since Lazuri died.
Doubt.
He remembered her smile in the medical ward.
Her final words.
Treat him as you have treated me.
Levi exhaled slowly.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
Inside the city he found a small group of gate guards finishing their night patrol.
They stiffened immediately when the tall stranger approached.
Levi stopped a few steps away.
"I need you to take this child."
The guards exchanged confused glances.
One of them stepped forward cautiously.
"And why would we do that?"
Levi gently placed Tamura into the man's arms.
"Because if he stays with me… he will never know peace."
The guard looked down at the sleeping boy.
"Who is he?"
Levi hesitated for the briefest moment.
Then he stepped back into the shadows.
"Someone who deserves a chance to live."
Before the guards could stop him, Levi had already turned away.
Within seconds he vanished into the night.
Back toward the Eastern world.
Back toward the consequences waiting for him.
But Levi Kurokishi did not intend to surrender quietly.
Not after everything Lazuri had fought for.
If the clans wished to punish him…
They would have to survive him first.
"Lazuri, you know I would never in a thousand lifetimes abandon you or our son. To break my promise to you. But it is because I love him that I must leave."
The guards stood in silence for a moment after the stranger vanished into the night.
None of them had moved.
The man holding the child shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket wrapped around the boy.
"…Did he even tell us the kid's name?" one of the guards muttered.
The man shook his head.
"No."
He looked down at the sleeping infant in his arms.
Tamura's face was calm. Peaceful.
Too peaceful for a child who had just been abandoned at the gates of a foreign nation.
Then the guard frowned.
"…Is it just me," he said slowly, "or is it getting hot out here?"
Another guard wiped his forehead.
"You feel that too?"
The night air had been cool only moments ago, yet sweat had begun forming along their brows.
The man holding the child swallowed.
The warmth wasn't coming from the air.
It was coming from the boy.
Tiny waves of heat radiated from Tamura's small body, subtle but undeniable, like the quiet glow of embers buried beneath ash.
The guard holding him suddenly shifted his grip.
"By the gods…"
Tamura stirred slightly in his sleep.
For the briefest moment, the blanket around his tiny hand darkened.
A faint curl of smoke rose into the cold night air.
The guards stared at the child in stunned silence.
None of them spoke.
Because in that moment…
They all realized the same thing.
This was no ordinary child.