Morning sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the quiet countryside. Mist clung to the mountain slopes like a silk blanket, drifting slowly with the breeze. Nestled at the edge of a forest clearing, just before the cliff that overlooked the valley below, stood a small wooden house with a stone chimney gently puffing smoke into the blue sky.
The man who stepped out from the house looked to be no more than twenty years old. His white hair glimmered faintly under the sunlight, tousled and unkempt, and his eyes carried the weight of someone who had long stopped keeping track of the days. He wore a simple blue hoodie, grey pants tucked into worn black boots, and a calm expression that made him appear almost sleepy.
His name was Ray.
He stretched his arms toward the sky and let out a yawn before squinting up into the light. The same view he'd seen for the past two centuries greeted him—untouched trees, an empty dirt road, and silence broken only by birdsong. He sighed and turned back toward the open doorway.
"Alright, breakfast time," he muttered to himself.
Inside the house, the atmosphere was serene. Shelves lined with old books, herbs, and tools filled the walls. A cast iron kettle boiled gently over a magical stove, humming with heatless blue fire. At the center of the main room lay a massive rug, upon which curled a small creature resembling a cross between a fox and a dragon. Its fur shimmered faintly with a soft violet hue.
"Up, Kuro," Ray said as he set down a wooden bowl of meat stew. The beast opened one eye lazily, sniffed the air, and stood to eat.
Near the corner of the room, a tall humanoid figure sat by the table, its body made of smooth alloy and glowing lines of green energy running along its joints. The mechanical being raised its hand in a lazy salute.
"Good morning, Master Ray," the AI robot said in a gentle monotone. "I've completed my third simulated game of poker against myself. Conclusion: I'm still undefeated."
"Cheating with probability analysis doesn't count," Ray replied, pulling out a chair. "Now deal me in."
The two played a few quiet hands over tea, the sound of cards shuffling and birds outside blending into a peaceful harmony. Kuro finished eating and curled up again, content. The sun had risen higher by the time Ray stood up.
"I'll head to the village. We're out of vegetables," he said.
The robot nodded. "Shall I reinforce the shield while you're gone?"
Ray glanced at the ceiling, where faint runes pulsed beneath the wooden beams. To anyone else, this looked like a simple, rustic house. In reality, it was a divine-level artifact that once served as the core bastion of an empire now lost to time. Beneath the floorboards, a shield generator of cosmic grade quietly expanded an invisible dome of absolute defense. No god, beast, or spell could enter without Ray's permission.
"Leave it. No one's dumb enough to bother me these days," he said. "They've learned."
He slung a simple bag over his shoulder and stepped out, taking a deep breath. The wind was fresh today. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky as he began walking the winding path down the mountain toward the village below.
The village of Harlorn lay nestled in a valley five kilometers away, a small settlement of farmers, hunters, and old craftsmen. It was peaceful, unremarkable, and forgotten by most maps. That was why Ray had chosen it.
People knew him there. Or rather, they thought they did.
"Old Man Ray!" a child waved as he passed.
"I'm twenty," Ray replied without turning.
"You've been twenty since my grandpa's time!"
He waved it off and continued walking. The villagers had long stopped questioning his age. He was that strange but harmless man who lived in the mountains, sometimes buying food, sometimes offering rare herbs, but never causing trouble.
At the market square, he bought fresh vegetables, a few cuts of meat, and some spices. The shopkeepers greeted him with polite smiles and cautious curiosity. No one dared to get too close. Something about him felt distant, untouchable.
After finishing his errands, Ray returned to the forest but didn't go home immediately. Instead, he ventured deeper into the woods, toward the mist-covered ravine where stronger beasts were known to appear.
A rustle in the brush warned him of an approaching monster.
From the trees leapt a razor-tusked boar the size of a carriage, its tusks gleaming with mana and its eyes red with rage. It charged straight for him.
Ray tilted his head.
"It's Meat," he said simply.
The moment the boar lunged, Ray vanished. In the blink of an eye, he appeared above it, gently pressing a hand to its back.
A shockwave of invisible force rippled through the air.
The boar dropped instantly, unconscious, as if it had been struck by a mountain. Ray lowered himself, examined the beast, and nodded in approval.
"Good quality mana flesh. Kuro will enjoy this."
With a flick of his wrist, a spatial rune opened beside him and swallowed the boar whole. He walked home afterward, hands in his pockets, whistling softly to a tune only he remembered.
At sunset, the sky burned with warm orange light. Back in his house, Ray cooked dinner while the AI sorted cards and Kuro lounged on the ceiling beams. The stew boiled with the scent of herbs, meat, and spice.
He ate in silence, watching the stars begin to appear beyond the window. Another quiet day.
Another day closer to peace.
But in the upper realms, far above the mortal plane, a god stirred. Somewhere in the divine skies, a name appeared in forbidden script.
"Ray..."
A shudder went through the heavens. Alarms rang in the Hall of Fate. But down below, in a humble house made of divine materials, a young man washed his plate and prepared for sleep.
As always, the world remained unaware that its most dangerous existence was living alone, feeding his pet, and enjoying card games with a robot friend.
Just as he preferred it.