The Enchanted Throne of Lost Gods

The mysterious voice spoke with a hint of exasperation, "So, you're going to let him walk away like that? This isn't your usual approach. You've always confronted danger by going straight to its roots to eliminate it."

Anderson's tone remained calm. "If his intention was peace, and he truly wishes for us to stop pursuing him, then so be it. We will act accordingly."

A hint of gratitude crept into Anderson's voice. "Instead, we should thank him for clearing a path for me. I had reached a dead end, but now... hehe, I see new possibilities."

The voice sneered. "Gratitude? You want to thank him? The man didn't even grace you with a word, not even a grunt, and here you are praising him. Haha! Where has the mighty Anderson, the great Guardian, gone?"

"Intelligent people don't need words to communicate," Anderson replied bluntly. "And when did I ask anyone to call me the Guardian?"

"Don't glorify your defeat with poetic nonsense," the voice retorted.

Anderson sighed, "Must you always rub salt into my wounds? Fine, I get it. You're angry because of what I said about your race."

When silence met his words, Anderson reflected inwardly. Of course. No race accepts insults to their core beliefs, even if the words come from a friend.

For a moment, the unshakable Anderson, felt an uncharacteristic tremor in his heart. A thought gripped him like ice "No… it can't be. He survived the carnage. Could he be...? He was the real culprit. No, I must be overthinking. My mind is weary from the day's events."

But suspicion gnawed at him." How could he possibly be the one behind all of this? No, he wouldn't go to such lengths to deceive me…"

Shaking the thought away, Anderson spoke again. "Draco, I think I'll head to the mountains. I need time to reflect on today's lesson. Then, we'll visit Mother and tell her about him."

He exhaled, a trace of regret lingering in his words. "It's a pity. The boy has no interest in the affairs of the world. If he ever set foot in the Central Plains, some of those old men, who see humans as nothing more than pawns, would never sleep peacefully again. Some might even die from sheer humiliation."

A mysterious smile played on Anderson's lips as his mind wandered. His figure slowly faded into the horizon, his parting words lingering like a whisper in the breeze.

"First lesson he teach us."

"No matter how grim the nightmare, no matter if the entire world hunts you with no chance of escape, never surrender. Struggle, endure, for life is Heaven's greatest gift. Cherish it. Find peace even in despair, for until the time ordained by the heavens arrives, no one can take your life. And when that time comes, you can die without regret."

With those final words, he vanished.

-------

Far from the battlefield, in a place untouched by the storm of combat, two figures sat across a fire.

The first had eyes like black abysses, matching his long dark hair and the tattered robes draped over his lean frame. He gnawed on the tough meat of a scavenger with a quiet, steady hunger.

The second was his opposite an ethereal presence, with white hair and brilliant blue eyes that glimmered like sapphires. The firelight danced upon his serene features as he cooked fresh meat for his companion.

They spoke in fits and starts, their conversation shifting from one subject to another.

The dark-haired boy's voice was soft, haunted. "The voices of the innocent still echo in my ears, pleading for someone to hear their tale of despair. Their tragic fates weigh heavily on my soul." His grip on the meat tightened. "One day, I'll make that lunatic pay for every life he's taken."

The white-haired boy glanced up from the fire, his eyes calm. "I've told you before. His name is Anderson. He's known as the Guardian, not some lunatic."

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of the dark-haired boy's mouth. "Ah, so they've given him a title? A Guardian? Do they even know that their so-called protector has committed atrocities beyond imagining?"

"He's only twenty years old," the angelic boy replied softly. "Do you really believe he's capable of such horrors?"

The dark-haired boy choked on a piece of meat, eyes wide in disbelief. "He's twenty? A supreme sorcerer at that age? And a master of deception, too?"

"Yes," the white-haired boy nodded. "If anyone deserves respect, it's him."

"And don't think I haven't noticed how you used me on the battlefield," the angel boy added pointedly.

"What? That was a mutually beneficial arrangement," he replied with a confident smirk.

The angel boy huffed. "Beneficial? You knew I was there from the moment I awakened, yet you stayed silent. You kept your distance, watching, waiting to decide if I was friend or foe. Even when you realized I posed no threat, you didn't talk to me.

No you bided your time, using me as a pawn until the perfect moment that will make you even more formidable.

Your patience paid off. Now Anderson will think twice before chasing after you again."

"But actually it is right," the white-haired boy admitted, his tone carrying a note of admiration. "It wasn't just about defeating an enemy. You eliminated his very desire to pursue you."

Anderson was about to respond when he suddenly made a strangled sound. "Grrkk!" He clawed at his throat. "Water..."

Without hesitation, the white-haired boy summoned water from the air and offered it to him in a conjured pot.

After gulping down the water, he leaned back, a rueful grin on his face. "Next time, pretend you know nothing. There's nothing more unsettling than having someone see through your plans."

The white-haired boy gazed thoughtfully at the full moon, its silver light reflecting in his eyes. "In this entire world, I'm the only one you never need to guard against."

Noah sighed, his voice light with sarcasm. "Your precious Anderson was practically wanted to tourcher me."

"If I were in his place, I'd have done the same," the angel boy replied. "Imagine surviving alone when millions perish. Even a blind man would see your value. Forget Anderson anyone would."

"And if you knew his childhood," the white-haired boy murmured, "you might even pity him."

Noah smiled faintly. "So that's why he is so venomous at such age, his childhood hardships and sufferings makes him more mature and dangerous than an old man."

"Exactly."

Men do not mature with the mere passage of years, but through the crucible of life itself, through the fires of pain, the weight of failure, the sting of rejection, and the haunting shadow of loss. It is in the moments of disrespect and heartbreak that true growth is forged, where character is tempered like steel in a forge.

Age may add years to a man's face, but it is the depth of his struggles and the resilience to rise again that shapes his soul, molds his spirit, and imbues him with wisdom. In the scars of the heart, in the quiet moments of defeat, men find the seeds of their strength, and from them, they grow—not into mere years, but into the men they are destined to be.

The flickering fire between them cast long, restless shadows, mirroring the storm of thoughts raging in Noah's mind.

His black eyes, dark as the abyss, reflected the memories of horror that refused to fade.

He clenched his fists tightly, knuckles pale against the tattered fabric of his robes.

"So… there were two legendary weapons," he murmured, his voice heavy with revelation. "One wielded by Anderson, which reshaped the very land beneath our feet, bending terrain to its will but why will he do that, is someone ordered him?. The other… the one responsible for annihilating an entire nation its nature remains shrouded in mystery."

His words hung in the air, thick with gravity, as he pieced the puzzle together. "Could it be…?" His gaze sharpened as if peering into the abyss itself. "The weapon that obliterated the country was it the destructional one? And Anderson's weapon… its opposite a force of creation?"

The fire crackled in agreement, sparks leaping into the air like fleeting stars, but the silence of his companion remained absolute.

Noah's mind raced onward, unheeding. "Then… the true mastermind used Anderson played him like a piece on a grand chessboard.

He manipulated him into wielding his creational weapon to reshape the battlefield, hiding all traces of the destructive force.

Every scar on the land, every altered path, was a mask to conceal the truth… and the puppetmaster reaped unimaginable benefits."

The weight of his own conclusion pressed against him, but the angelic boy across the fire remained still, his blue eyes as fathomless as the sky after a storm.

At last, he spoke—but only a single, solemn truth.

"This is a game between Empowers the supreme beings of the Magus World." His voice, calm and deep, carried the finality of ancient wisdom. "Level 10 sorcerers… beings who stand at the pinnacle of existence. Their power shapes realms. Their will bends reality." He paused, his gaze piercing through Noah's soul. "And Anderson, the youngest supreme sorcerer of his age, is a piece in this grand game. A piece… but one with the power to change its rules."

Noah felt his breath catch as the next words fell like a hammer upon his heart.

"And you," the angelic figure continued, his voice low and steady, "are a variable, an anomaly in this game. A piece that was never meant to exist."

Silence swallowed them once more, heavy and profound.

Noah clenched his fists tighter, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. He felt the pull of a hundred questions, but none escaped his lips. The truth loomed too large, the implications too vast.

"Forget the battlefield," the angelic boy whispered at last, his voice like the wind caressing the mountains. "Erase the questions. Release the weight of schemes and bloodshed.

"Focus solely on your strength. Forge your destiny with your own hands. In a world of gods and monsters, only power with wisdom will carve your place among them."

The conversation ebbed into silence, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire and the rhythmic whispers of the wind. The white haired boy turned his gaze toward Noah, now surrendered to deep sleep.

His breathing was steady, the tension that once gripped his form now uncoiled in rest. Black strands of hair cascaded over his brow, dancing lightly in the cool breeze that carried the scent of rain and earth.

The serenity of the moment wrapped around him like a forgotten lullaby a fleeting pause between the storms of fate.

______________End Of First Arc_____________

" A Dance of Deception "