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MidReal Story
The Strongest Reincarnation
Scenario:Boreas is the disciple of atlan, a guardian of the west who is said to be a legend and one of the strongest heroes in the lands. Boreas was trained since he was 7 years old by Atlan. Boreas is 17 when he decides to embark on a journey away from his home in the middle of the abandoned woods, and Atlan allows him to go. Boreas embarks on his journey where he goes to a guild and finds others who are willing to help him, a female mage, a male swordsman, a female swordsman, and a male archer. All 5 of them journey further west in hopes of discovering the first hero who disappeared there 15,000 years ago. But the lands to the west are not easy territory to traverse, Boreas and his party will come across many powerful foes/allies such as monsters, demons, other heroes who rank highly in the guild, and even dragons who are supreme beings that live in another dimension. They will also discover a cult known as the Disciples of Blasphemy who worship the 5 Lords of Blasphemy. The 5 lords of blasphemy are all heroes who have fallen and have been granted a second chance by the Forgotten monarch. But are the lords of blasphemy truly evil? The monarchs are beings who created the universe and its dimensions, there are 5 monarchs of humanity, there was 6 but he was betrayed as he was stated to be evil by another monarch of humanity. The monarchs of humanity do not intervene within humans and the human world. There is also a demon monarch who was said to be defeated by the first hero 15000 years ago. The dragon monarch is a mysterious being in which humans know very little about, and the monarch of death is a powerful being who rules over the afterlife. The first hero is the most powerful hero who slayed the demon monarch and split the land into its four sections, east, north, west, and south. Before he disappeared he left four weapons at each location and these weapons hold a fragment of his power which grants tremendous strength. The weapon chooses who can wield it and the current wielders are known as the chosen. The chosen are a group of four members and these members are tasked with protecting the kings of each land, as well as maintaining order. Boreas will encounter these chosen members and put them in their place when they step over him and his strength for not being chosen. The lords of blasphemy are all powerful beings that stand at the pinnacle of humanity strength. They are incomparable to other heroes and cannot be faced. They have strength capable of ending the world if they so desire, but the monarchs will intervene and not allow such a thing to happen. The heroes have a ranking system to determine strength, and that is as follows, low ranking, mid ranking, high ranking, legendary ranking, mythical ranking, king ranking, chosen ranking, god ranking. There are around 78 legendary ranking heroes in the lands of the west, 15 mythical ranking heroes, 6 king ranking heroes, 4 chosen ranking heroes, and 7 god ranking heroes. Amongst the king ranking heroes there is 1 hero there who stands at the pinnacle of strength and is on par with god ranking heroes, this hero’s name is treant and he is the king of the mountains/freedom. He is the strongest current hero. The strength gap from legendary to mythical is a great distance as it takes about 10 legendary heroes to take on 1 mythical ranked hero, and the gap gets greater from mythical hero to king ranked heroes as it takes about 20 mythic heroes to defeat one king ranked hero, and then with chosen and god ranked heroes it takes about 25 king ranked heroes.
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Boreas
first_person_protagonist, male. He is a young hero trained by Atlan, a legendary hero. He is dedicated, ambitious, and determined. Trained since he was seven years old by Atlan, Boreas reaches peak strength at twentyseven. He forms a party with powerful allies, embarks on a perilous journey to find the first hero who disappeared 15,000 years ago, and discovers the truth about the First Hero and the world's creation by the Forgotten Monarchs.
Aria
side_character, female. She is a powerful mage in the party. She is intelligent, confident, and strongwilled. Aria possesses exceptional magical abilities, able to cast spells that damage even dragons. Her presence balances the party's strength and provides strategic insight. Despite her sometimes haughty demeanor, she supports her comrades through challenges and shares her insights during critical decisions. Her magical prowess helps navigate obstacles on their journey to find the first hero.
Atlan
side_character, male. He is a legendary hero and Boreas's mentor. He is powerful, wise, and selfless. Trained many heroes, including Boreas, Atlan achieved peak strength at thirtyseven and left before dying from unknown causes. His training emphasized survival skills and combat strategies. Atlan entrusted Boreas with a fragment of his power, sending him on a crucial mission to find the first hero who started it all in the lands of the west.
I was trained by Atlan, a legendary hero and guardian of the west.
He was said to be a legend, a hero among heroes, one of the strongest heroes in the lands.
I was trained by him since I was seven years old.
He trained me for ten years straight, teaching me everything he knew and more.
When I turned seventeen, I decided to leave my home in the middle of the abandoned woods to go on a journey.
Atlan allowed me to go, giving me a nod and entrusting me with a fragment of his power before I left.
I went to the guild and formed a party with others who were willing to help me on my journey.
I found a mage named Aria, a swordsman named Zel, another swordsman named Nyx, and an archer named Drake.
All five of us journeyed further west together, hoping to find answers about what happened to the first hero.
The first hero was said to have been the strongest hero of them all.
He disappeared 15,000 years ago, leaving behind four holy weapons and fragments of his power.
The holy weapons were said to be able to choose their wielders and grant tremendous strength to whoever wielded them.
The wielders were known as The Chosen Ones.
There were four chosen ones in total, one for each land: east, north, west, and south.
I lead my companions through the guild hall, a large building with hundreds of heroes inside.
The hall is lit by torches and has a high ceiling with stone pillars holding it up.
There are many people here, all of them heroes who have come to register for the guild.
We walk up to the registration desk, where a clerk is sitting behind a table.
He looks up at us and nods.
"Welcome, heroes," he says.
"I am the clerk in charge of registering new heroes. Please, come forward and I will evaluate your combat potential."
We all nod and walk forward, one by one.
The clerk hands each of us a small crystal that glows with a soft blue light.
"This is an evaluation crystal," he explains.
"It will measure your combat potential and determine your rank as a hero."
Drake goes first, gripping the crystal in his hand.
It glows brightly for a moment, then returns to its normal blue color.
The clerk looks at it and nods.
"You are mid-rank," he says.
"Congratulations."
Nyx goes next, followed by Zel.
Both of their crystals glow bright green, indicating that they are high-rank warriors.
Aria goes last, gripping the crystal tightly in her hand.
It blazes with white light for a moment, then returns to its normal color. "You are legendary," the clerk says, looking at her in surprise.
"Congratulations."
Finally, it's my turn.
I grip the crystal in my hand, feeling its smooth surface against my skin.
As soon as I touch it, the crystal erupts in a blinding golden light that fills the entire hall.
The clerk stumbles back, looking at me in shock.
"You...you are mythical rank," he stammers.
"There are only seven other heroes who have achieved this rank."
Aria steps closer, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Does this mean you might be one of The Chosen Ones?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
The clerk nods slowly, still staring at the crystal. "It's possible," he says. "But you'll need to find a holy weapon to be sure."
After the ranking revelation, I retreat to a quiet corner of the guild hall.
The other party members gather around me, their faces filled with a mix of awe and anticipation.
I unsheathe the plain steel sword Atlan gave me before I left, its worn leather grip fitting comfortably in my hand.
The weight of the blade feels familiar, a constant companion throughout my years of training.
I run my fingers along the length of the sword, remembering the countless hours spent honing my skills with Atlan.
The clerk approaches us, his eyes fixed on the sword in my hand.
"Congratulations on achieving mythical rank," he says, his voice tinged with respect.
"I see you're using a rather...unassuming weapon."
He glances at the sword, his gaze lingering on its simplicity.
"For someone of your status, perhaps something more...ornate would be fitting."
He gestures towards a nearby rack of weapons, adorned with intricate designs and precious gems.
"I have just the thing."
He retrieves an ornate golden blade from the rack, its surface glinting under the torchlight.
"This one would suit someone of your rank perfectly."
I shake my head firmly, gripping Atlan's sword tighter in my hand.
"This one is all I need," I say, my voice filled with conviction.
The clerk looks at me quizzically but doesn't press further.
Instead, he nods and returns to his duties. The other party members exchange glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and admiration.
Zel steps forward, his eyes fixed on the sword in my hand.
"Would you mind showing us what you can do with that?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation.
I nod, a small smile playing on my lips.
Without warning, I charge forward, weaving through the crowd with fluid movements.
The familiar weight of the blade guides me as I execute a complex technique Atlan taught me years ago.
The steel sings through the air with perfect precision, slicing through imaginary foes with ease.
Zel watches in awe, then turns to Aria.
"Did you see that? It's like the sword becomes an extension of him," he whispers, his voice filled with admiration.
Aria nods slowly, her eyes never leaving me.
"It's not just the sword," she murmurs, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"There's something more... something hidden within him."
The guild master leads us to a vast underground arena, its stone walls etched with ancient runes that suppress excessive power.
Other mythical-ranked heroes gather, seasoned warriors twice my age who eye me with skepticism.
A muscular woman with a battle-scarred face steps forward as my opponent.
The guild master explains the rules: first to yield or become incapacitated loses.
I grip Atlan's sword tightly, recalling his lessons about controlling power output.
The woman charges with incredible speed, her blade wreathed in crimson energy.
I sidestep her initial strike, analyzing her movement patterns just as Atlan taught me.
I shift my weight to the balls of my feet, angling my blade exactly as Atlan taught me.
The woman's crimson sword leaves a brief opening as she overextends her thrust.
I step inside her guard, my plain steel sword catching hers at the precise weak point where blade meets crossguard.
With a sharp twist of my wrist, I execute the disarming technique - not with brute force, but with carefully controlled pressure applied at the correct angle.
Her weapon spins through the air, clattering against the arena's stone floor.
The other mythical-ranked heroes fall silent, their earlier doubts replaced with wary respect.
I stand over my disarmed opponent, her crimson blade still skittering across the arena floor.
The underground chamber falls silent except for the quiet hum of ancient runes.
My opponent remains on one knee, her scarred face a mix of shock and frustration.
Despite her earlier aggression, I remember Atlan's words about honor after victory.
I extend my right hand while keeping Atlan's sword lowered in my left.
She hesitates, eyes darting between my face and outstretched palm.
The other mythical-ranked heroes lean forward, watching to see how this moment of vulnerability plays out.
She finally takes my hand, her grip firm but respectful.
"You're not just skilled; you're different," she admits, rising to her feet.
I nod, meeting her gaze. "Atlan taught me that true strength lies not in the weapon, but in the heart of the one who wields it."
From my position near the edge of the arena, I watch as Drake steps into the testing circle first.
His opponent, a burly man wielding twin daggers, circles him warily.
Drake maintains his distance, methodically firing arrows that force his opponent to dodge awkwardly.
When Zel enters next, he faces a spearwoman whose reach advantage proves challenging.
Nyx follows with an impressive display against a shield-bearer, her agility and precision allowing her to exploit any opening in his defense.
Aria's match draws gasps from the onlookers as she effortlessly controls the battlefield with her ice magic.
Between matches, I study their techniques, noting how each adapts to their opponent's style.
As the matches conclude, the guild master approaches me with a contemplative look.
"You've shown remarkable restraint and insight today," he says, his voice carrying a weight of authority.
"There's something more to your training than just Atlan's teachings, isn't there?"
I lean against the stone wall of the guild hall, watching the guild master's probing expression as he circles me slowly.
"Your technique is flawless, your power unusual," he remarks, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"You must have some special bloodline or divine blessing."
I shake my head, a small smile on my lips.
"No, nothing like that. Just years of Atlan drilling the basics into me until they became second nature."
I pause, recalling those countless hours of training under Atlan's watchful eye.
"I remember practicing each stance until I could execute it perfectly in my sleep. The bruises from wooden practice swords, the sweat and exhaustion. But most of all, I remember the repetition - the endless drills until every movement became instinct."
The guild master frowns, clearly unsatisfied with such a simple explanation.
He seems to expect some grand revelation or hidden secret behind my abilities.
I sense a shift in the atmosphere as four imposing figures enter the guild hall.
Their weapons pulse with ancient power - artifacts left by the First Hero himself.
The chosen members of the Council of Four stride forward, their cloaks bearing the emblems of their respective territories.
The guild master immediately bows, while other heroes scramble to clear a path.
I remain standing, gripping Atlan's sword tighter as they approach.
Their leader, a tall woman with a crystalline spear, fixes her gaze on me.
"How is it that a mere boy has achieved mythical rank?"
Behind me, I hear Aria whisper a warning, but I step forward to face them directly.
The Council leader's crystal spear glows brighter as she circles me, studying my stance.
"I propose a challenge," she declares, her voice commanding attention.
"If you can break through my defensive barrier, I will acknowledge your power."
I tighten my grip on Atlan's sword, recalling his lessons about channeling energy through the blade.
The other council members form a half-circle behind their leader, who plants her spear into the ground.
A translucent wall of energy materializes between us, rippling like water.
"Do you accept, or will you retreat like the others?" she taunts, her eyes never leaving mine.
"I've never backed down from a challenge," I reply, my voice steady despite the tension in the air.
Aria steps closer, her voice barely a whisper, "Remember what Atlan taught you about finding the weakest point."
I channel power through Atlan's sword, focusing on the barrier's center where the energy seems thinnest.
The council leader smirks, clearly expecting me to fail.
Drawing upon Atlan's training, I strike with controlled force rather than raw power.
The blade connects with her barrier, creating a high-pitched resonance.
Cracks spread from the impact point like spider webs across glass.
The council leader's smirk vanishes as her barrier shatters completely.
She stumbles backward, blood trickling from her nose from the magical backlash.
The council leader regains her composure, wiping the blood with the back of her hand.
"Impossible," she mutters, eyes wide with disbelief.
Aria steps forward, her voice steady and confident, "You underestimated him, just like everyone else."
I lower Atlan's sword slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the council leader as she wipes the blood from her nose.
The gathered crowd remains silent, their eyes darting between us.
When I step forward and bow my head slightly, she tenses, her fingers tightening around her crystal spear.
Her fellow council members shift uneasily behind her.
I remember Atlan's words about showing respect to a worthy opponent, regardless of the outcome.
"Your barrier was impressive," I say, straightening up.
"Few could maintain such power."
She freezes at my words, her grip on the spear tightening.
The hooded figure steps forward from the group, pulling back his cowl to reveal an aged face with a distinctive scar running from his temple to his jaw.
He approaches me, his eyes fixed on Atlan's sword in my hand.
"I recognize that blade," he says, his voice filled with a mix of awe and curiosity.
"The silver-steel alloy and the unique cross-guard design... I've only seen it once before, decades ago."
The other council members gather closer, their eyes now fixed on the sword rather than me.
The scarred man reaches out a hand towards the blade, but I instinctively step back, keeping it close.
He looks up at me, his expression unreadable.
"We must verify if this is indeed Atlan's legendary blade," he explains.
"Allow us to examine it."
I extend the sword horizontally across my palms, watching his every move.
He takes the sword with practiced hands, his fingers tracing the worn leather grip and the distinctive cross-guard.
The blade catches the torchlight as he turns it, revealing the subtle patterns in the silver-steel alloy.
His eyes narrow at the small notch near the pommel - a mark I've never understood.
The other council members lean in closer, whispering among themselves.
The scarred man nods solemnly, handing the sword back to me with newfound respect.
"Indeed, this is the blade of Atlan," he says, his voice filled with reverence.
I take the sword back, feeling its familiar weight in my hand.
The scarred man steps back, and the council members return to their positions, their eyes still fixed on me.
The air in the hall feels heavy with unspoken questions and expectations.
Suddenly, a crushing pressure fills the guild hall.
The torches flicker and dim as if a powerful force is draining their energy.
Everyone in the hall drops to their knees, including the chosen heroes.
The scarred council member turns towards the entrance of the hall, his face filled with awe and fear.
I follow his gaze to see a figure materializing near the entrance of the hall.
The figure is tall, draped in dark robes with intricate golden trim that shimmers even in the dim light.
As it steps closer, its presence becomes overwhelming.
The air thickens, making it difficult to breathe.
I grip Atlan's sword tighter, fighting against the pressure that threatens to force me to my knees like everyone else.
The figure approaches us, its presence flooding the room with an intense spiritual power that I've never felt before.
Its face remains hidden behind a hood, but I can sense its eyes fixed on me.
Then, it speaks in a deep voice that reverberates through the entire hall. "That sword... I remember when Atlan first wielded it."
The sound of its voice is like thunder in my ears, making it hard to think clearly.
I feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I stand face to face with this legendary being.
Everyone else around me seems paralyzed by fear and awe, unable to move or speak.
The figure pauses, and with a voice that echoes through the silence, it declares, "The time has come for the true heir to rise."
I tighten my grip on Atlan's sword and take a deliberate step forward.
My boots scrape against the stone floor, the sound echoing in the heavy silence.
With each step, the pressure intensifies, making my muscles strain and my joints ache.
Behind me, I can hear Aria's labored breathing and Drake's bow clattering to the ground as they struggle under the weight of this being's presence.
The figure's dark robes ripple without any visible wind, the golden trim catching the flickering torchlight.
As I move closer, I can feel its gaze upon me, though its face remains hidden in the shadows of its hood.
When I'm three paces away, I plant my feet firmly on the ground and raise the blade above my head in a challenge stance that Atlan drilled into me countless times during our training sessions.
The figure's voice cuts through the silence, "You dare challenge me with Atlan's own stance?"
I meet its unseen gaze, my voice steady despite the pressure. "If I'm to be the heir, I must prove my worth."
A low chuckle emanates from beneath the hood, resonating with an ancient power. "Very well, let us see if you truly are the one destined to wield that blade."
I strain against the force, my muscles burning as the stone floor beneath us starts to crack and splinter.
Each step forward feels like pushing through thick mud, but I keep Atlan's sword raised.
The being's power increases, making tiles buckle and shatter around us.
My companions collapse completely against the far wall, while guild members scramble for safety.
Sweat drips down my face as I fight to maintain my stance.
The figure's dark robes ripple with energy, and despite my legs trembling, I manage to take another defiant step forward.
I gather every bit of power Atlan taught me to control and channel it through the silver-steel blade.
The figure stands motionless, its robes billowing without wind as my sword cuts through the air.
Time seems to slow as I remember Atlan's words about commitment to each strike.
The blade meets resistance inches from the figure's chest, like hitting an invisible wall.
I adjust my grip and push harder, watching small cracks appear in the barrier.
The figure's hood shifts slightly, revealing a glimpse of glowing eyes.
The figure's voice is calm, almost amused. "You show promise, but raw power alone won't suffice."
I grit my teeth, feeling the strain in my arms. "Then tell me, what does it take to be the heir?"
The figure leans forward slightly, its eyes glowing brighter. "Courage to face the unknown and wisdom to wield the power wisely."
I plant my feet wider on the crumbling floor, adjusting my grip on Atlan's sword where it meets the barrier.
Sweat drips down my arms as I concentrate on the web of fractures spreading from the blade's point of contact.
The figure's eyes flare brighter when I begin channeling energy in a new pattern - not just raw force, but controlled pulses that match the barrier's resonance.
The cracks expand with each pulse, glowing with the same silver-blue light as my sword.
The figure's voice softens, carrying a note of approval. "You begin to understand the dance between strength and subtlety."
I nod, feeling the energy flow more naturally now. "Atlan always said the true heir would learn to listen as much as they fight."
A hint of a smile plays at the edge of the figure's unseen lips. "And in listening, you find the path forward."
I draw the sword back slowly, focusing on the intricate pattern of cracks.
The barrier shimmers, reflecting the light of the setting sun through the windows.
I can feel the pulse of energy in the blade, like a second heartbeat.
The figure's glowing eyes watch intently as I concentrate.
The air is heavy with anticipation.
I take a deep breath, feeling my muscles tighten with each pulse of energy.
The cracks glow brighter, and I can feel the power building inside me.
The guild hall has fallen completely silent, except for the sound of my own breathing and the soft hum of energy.
I exhale slowly, focusing all my energy into this one moment.
Then, with a swift and precise motion, I thrust the sword forward.
All the energy I've gathered explodes outward, directed at a single point where the cracks intersect.
The blade meets its mark with a high-pitched ring that fills the air.
The barrier shatters, and the figure steps back, its eyes widening in surprise.
I lower the sword slowly, watching as the fragments of the barrier dissolve into mist around me.
The figure's robes settle, no longer rippling with the supernatural energy that had surrounded it.
The crushing pressure in the guild hall lifts, and I can hear my companions stirring again.
Drake retrieves his bow from where it fell, while Aria leans against the wall, steadying herself.
The being's glowing eyes dim to a soft amber as it reaches toward me with a weathered hand.
Before I can react, it touches my forehead.
A surge of memories floods through my mind - images of Atlan wielding this same sword decades ago, fighting battles I've only heard stories about.