...The cover photo itself is made by AI....

Since I don't have the ability to draw or hire an artist (because of the lack of budget to pay the artist) to make a detailed cover and no one supports me yet. Then I have no choice but to make one with AI. \=(

And thanks to it, cuz i hit its 99% accurate generated image.

It's not only for charisma purposes, but also for the novel's highlight story.

Sorry if i published chapters late, because busyness and stress surrounded me with my other works.

...*Warning*...

...Don't remake or take my novel for something, you can only share it with your friends. The story plots or content are pure in the author's imagination. \=)...

...By the way i used a grammar checker for better understanding. Because I'm not an expert in English, but despite my weakness, I still wanted to rise up until it finished....

...I hope you can support my novel, my friends, it seriously means a lot to me. Thank you, salamat people! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑...

..."This is the talent I've got, so I'm grinding like my life depends on it. I know I'm struggling right now because I'm broke, but I'm not staying here. I'm going to rise, and when I do, I'll support my whole family and everyone-no matter how long it takes or how hard it gets..."...

...TBH, some parts of the story are based on and reflect my real-life experiences. ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ...

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To be honest, if you’re concerned about AI, I only use it as a tool for grammar checking and light polishing. I write all my notes myself—content, plot, environment, and characters—even if they’re not perfectly organized. I also tend to summarize dialogue instead of writing every conversation in full. After that, I use AI to help improve the flow, polish the wording, and organize things so the story is easier to understand.

I know I’m not a perfect or professional author, and I don’t write better than everyone else. I just want to be honest about how I work.

The ideas, the story, and the characters are completely mine. AI is only there to help with presentation and clarity. I also personally review and edit everything it outputs so it still feels like my own writing. I hope that comes through, even if some wording or phrasing still isn’t perfect.

I also want to make it clear that I’m not cheating. What makes an author, to me, is creativity, effort, and vision—not just generating text. This story is fully directed by me, and I genuinely care about shaping it the way I imagined.

I really wanted to publish this story because it means a lot to me. These ideas have been in my head for a long time, and I finally wanted to share them, even if AI helps with polishing. This is still my effort and my creativity, and I hope readers can feel that.

I understand that some people are cautious about AI, especially with all the rumors about low-quality AI stories on other platforms. But I’m not doing this to farm views or use attention-grabbing, generated content. I’m sharing this story because it’s something I care about, and I want you to see it the way I imagined it.

I hope you like reading my novel \=)

...Here's What You Can Expect:...

...→ Each full chapter contains a long, continuous flow of 4,000-8,000+ words....

...→ That's why I published the chapters into chunks....

...→ A new chapter is released every 2-3 weeks....

...→ The story is built entirely from the author's imagination. (Plot, ideas, content, environment, scenes, characters and their personalities.)...

...This could end up being 1-60+ chapters or idk, I'm not sure yet. :)...

...🇵🇭...

If you want to see the map of the current story.

Here's the map of the Valor region.

...If you want to see the map of the western continent....

...↓...

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The Legend Who Fights in the Abyss

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Far within the Underworld, where the atmosphere was heavy with despondency and the heavens blazed in a perpetual scarlet radiance, a single warrior in a rogue's outfit stood before the dark throne. He was no ordinary mortal-he was a legend, a swordsman, and a master of every power; a fighter who had challenged both gods and monsters. He had walked among the lands of the living, slain abominations, and defied fate itself. And now, he has come to confront the source of all horrors-Hades, the Demon King.

The Underworld itself seemed to recoil as the two figures closed the distance between them. Hades, a god of unimaginable evil, towered over him, his presence suffocating, his aura twisting the very essence of existence. Shadows writhed at his feet, whispering curses older than time itself. With a voice that boomed through the abyss, Hades spoke.

"You have traveled far, mortal. But your rebellion ends here. This abyss will be your grave."

The warrior gripped his sword tightly, his other hand sizzling with raw magic. His breathing was controlled; his eyes unyielding.

"I have stood before death more times than I can remember," he said calmly, yet firmly. "But as long as I live, I will not allow your darkness to seep into the world above."

The fight erupted like a tempest. Metal clashed against claw, magic collided with the accursed void. The Underworld itself seemed to weep as the two combatants waged war, their blows shattering the ground beneath their feet. The warrior moved with perfect fluidity-one moment slicing with a blade surrounded by flames, the next casting holy seals to repel the void.

But Hades did not relent. He was no mere tyrant-he was destruction personified. For every blow the hero struck, Hades struck back with sheer force. For every spell cast, Hades retaliated with a power that made the very stones shudder and crack. The warrior fought with all his might-his training, his skill, his will-but the darkness would not yield.

In a surge of force, Hades brought his massive fist down. The warrior raised his sword to block, but the impact sent him hurtling through the abyss. His body crashed against jagged boulders, rocks crumbling beneath the blow. Dust and debris clouded the air; his cloak was torn, blood trailing from his mouth as he struggled to rise.

Hades' voice echoed through the abyss, mocking and cruel.

"Foolish warrior. You fight alone, clinging to hope as if it matters. But what chance do you have?"

Coughing blood, the warrior wiped his lip with the back of his hand, a faint, defiant smile curling at the corner of his mouth. He dragged himself from the shattered stones, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword.

"Hope?" he repeated, his voice steady despite the pain. "Hope is for those who wait. I didn't come here to hope... I came to end you, to save humanity."

Without hesitation, he surged forward. In that heartbeat, a luminous figure materialized behind him-a towering, spectral presence of raw arcane energy, its form shifting between armor-clad warrior and ancient spirit, eyes blazing like twin suns in the darkness. It was his Arcane Companion-an embodiment of legend itself.

As he moved, the companion's ethereal arms conjured weapons from the void: blades of fire, lances crackling with stormlight, axes shimmering with ancient enchantments. The warrior reached back, and in an instant, a gleaming greatsword of pure light appeared in his grasp, gifted by his companion's power.

Their blades met in a violent clash, shockwaves ripping through the air. Sparks flew as sword and claw collided. The warrior weaved between Hades' colossal strikes, his companion moving in perfect sync, hurling spears of light and summoning barriers of arcane flame.

He leapt high, spinning through the dark air, his sword wreathed in a crackling flame. The Arcane Companion followed, flanking him like a phantom guardian. Hades met them mid-leap, their weapons clashing with a force that made the Underworld tremble. The warrior landed, rolled, and in a seamless motion, his companion summoned a radiant halberd, which he flung as a searing bolt of holy light, striking the Demon King's chest and forcing him back a step.

But Hades snarled, lunging forward. His clawed hand grasped the air where the warrior had stood a heartbeat before. The hero ducked low, slashing across Hades' leg with a summoned dagger of starlight, leaving a searing gash. In retaliation, Hades lashed out, sending the warrior skidding backward, boots digging trenches into the blood-soaked ground.

Breathing hard, the warrior adjusted his stance. His sword gleamed with blood and fire, his free hand crackling with raw magic, while his Arcane Companion hovered behind him, weapons spinning in an orbit of spectral light.

"This ends now," he muttered.

And they charged again-a storm within the abyss: mortal and arcane legend against immortal darkness, light against void.

Time lost meaning in that endless battle. The hero bled, battered, magic waning. His companion flickered but remained, loyal and relentless. Still he fought. Still he stood. Until fate delivered its cruel judgment.

Hades raised his hand, and the Underworld froze. Shadows halted mid-flight. Flames hung motionless. Even the warrior and his Arcane Companion found their bodies unresponsive. His eyes widened in silent fury as his limbs refused to obey.

A chilling, distorted voice echoed through the frozen abyss.

"Enough."

Hades moved like a predator savoring his triumph. He stepped forward, a towering scythe of void-black metal materializing in his hand, its blade shimmering with stolen light.

"You've earned this," Hades murmured. "A death at my hand, remembered by none."

Without hesitation, he drove the weapon through the warrior's chest. Time itself seemed to crack.

And then, with a snap of his fingers, the world lurched.

Time resumed.

Blood burst from the warrior's chest, his strength draining like a broken vessel. His sword clattered to the cursed earth. The Arcane Companion flickered, destabilizing, yet lingered, one final summoned weapon held aloft in defiance.

Even as his flesh weakened, his spirit did not.

With every ounce of will, the warrior dropped to one knee, gripped the hilt of his fallen blade, and drove it into the heart of the Underworld, casting a final desperate incantation. As his body fell into the chasm, the world above was secure-for now.

In his final moments, shadows gathering, vision dimming, he whispered,

"I may fall today... but one will rise tomorrow. And when they rise... your demise will begin, Hades."

The legend was lost. His name, his tale, would become whispers among mortals. But in the echoes of the Underworld, in the silences that never spoke his name, his last battle would never be forgotten. Even in death, he fought to the end.

Beside him had once stood another: his Arcane Knight companion, a warrior cloaked in silver and deep azure, bound by loyalty. History buried them both, one by mortal fear, the other by centuries of oblivion.

The mortal world forgot their names. The hidden realms remembered their deeds.

Some say the Arcane Knight's armor still drifts in hidden worlds, waiting. Others believe his soul guards gates where light no longer reaches. To those few who sense such things, a colder truth lingers-neither death nor life claims them now.

They wait.

And somewhere, something watches.

Even the darkness wept.

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The World of Tenaria

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In the world of Tenaria, darkness has taken hold. A terrible force, the Shadow of Terror, spreads fear and destroys everything in its path. Once, the kingdoms fought together against evil, but now they battle each other for resources, land, and power. Old friendships have been broken; even small arguments lead to violence and death.

Cities and towns are no longer safe. Many lie in ruins, and the people who remain either hide or have fled. Kindness and hope have vanished, replaced by anger and despair. The darkness does not need to attack to win-it spreads by filling hearts with fear.

The people of Tenaria are losing. The city of Marcliff fell to shadow creatures, burned to ashes. In Duskwoods, brave warriors tried to resist but were defeated, courage stolen by whispers of the shadows. Even the Acinar Kingdom, the strongest fortress, was destroyed by a giant demon, forcing survivors into the wilderness.

With every loss, the shadows grow stronger. The world of Tenaria is falling apart, and the future looks hopeless.

Yet humanity holds unique talents and powers.

Each kingdom or group of warriors in Tenaria has distinct abilities:

Knights: Noble warriors in heavy armor, wielding swords and shields to protect the weak. Courageous, disciplined, and honorable.

Mages: Masters of the arcane, casting spells for destruction or healing, feared and respected alike.

Assassins: Experts in stealth and precision, striking swiftly before enemies even notice.

Brawlers: Fighters using fists, kicks, and martial arts, deadly in close combat with unmatched agility.

Gladiators: Fierce warriors thriving in arenas, skilled with multiple weapons, enduring and relentless.

Summoners: Call upon otherworldly beings to aid them in battle, shifting the tide of conflicts.

Rangers: Masters of wilderness, archery, and survival, striking from distance with deadly accuracy.

Aquari: Warriors of water, harnessing rivers, oceans, and rain to overwhelm foes.

Though powerful, their distrust keeps them divided. Unity could still bring hope to Tenaria.

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The Question Remains

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Will anyone rise to fight the darkness, or will the shadows prevail?

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Will a chosen hero sacrifice themselves to save humanity?

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The fate of Tenaria hangs by a thread, and time is running out.

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Beginning

Once, in a world of kingdoms and adventures...

In a distant land, two eternal kingdoms each celebrated the birth of a child destined for greatness. In the first kingdom, an 8-year-old girl named Irena was born to King Icarus and Queen Ileria of Aurelia. It was foretold that she would grow into a noble warrior. The kingdom rejoiced in the hope she represented, even though they were weaker than their formidable enemies.

Aurelia, not the strongest kingdom, thrived through unity. Life and camaraderie were everywhere. In the fields, farmers worked side by side, hands blistered but spirits high, singing songs of strength. Blacksmiths hammered tirelessly, forging tools and weapons not for profit, but to protect their neighbors. Soldiers patrolled the borders, eyes alert, born of love for their homeland.

The streets of Aurelia buzzed with life. Children played through the market, their laughter mingling with the calls of merchants. An elderly man carved wooden figurines, handing them to eager children. Everywhere, unity prevailed-a kingdom standing together against all odds.

As the sun set, painting the sky in orange and red, excitement ran through the crowd. A silver-clad, blue-robed royal messenger stood atop the stage in the crowded square.

"Citizens of Aurelia, stand up! Sir Jace has an important announcement!"

The crowd gathered, faces eager. Sir Jace, the loyal captain and respected knight, stepped forward. Though his armor told tales of countless battles, it shone with the brilliance of his unwavering spirit. He raised a hand, silencing murmurs.

"People of Aurelia," he began, voice commanding, "today is no ordinary day. Today, we celebrate the 8th birthday of our princess, Irena-a child born under a blessed light, destined to bring strength and hope to our kingdom."

The crowd erupted into applause, cheers bouncing off the stone walls.

Raising his hand, Sir Jace continued warmly, "King Icarus and Queen Ileria have decreed that tonight we gather not as strangers or subjects, but as one family, one people. I invite you all to a grand feast at the castle! Let us honor this day together, as Aurelia always has-with unity, joy, and pride!"

The crowd roared approval, some wiping tears of happiness. Families embraced, neighbors clasped hands, children leapt in excitement.

A farmer, hands rough with calluses, turned to his wife. "The princess brings hope once again," he said, voice breaking.

A young woman shouted, "For Aurelia! For the princess!" The cry spread until the square resounded with loyalty and love.

As the crowd began preparing for the feast, Sir Jace lingered, eyes on the horizon. Hope filled the people's hearts, but challenges loomed. Yet, gazing at smiling faces, pride surged within him.

Aurelia was not a kingdom of light and steel-it was a kingdom of people, bound by trust and love. And as stars creased the night sky, everyone knew: the light of the little princess, held safely within the castle walls, would shine above all future obstacles.

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Continuation (Part 2)

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By that night, the grand halls of Aurelia Castle had transformed into a spirit of celebration.

Long tables adorned with golden candles filled the wide dining hall, laden with dishes from across the kingdom.

The air was rich with the scent of baked bread, roasted meats, and spiced wine, while lavish desserts gleamed upon the tables as minstrels filled the hall with music and song.

The entire kingdom seemed to have assembled within the castle walls. From noble knights in gleaming armor to farmers in their simplest tunics, all stood side by side, united in celebration.

Laughter echoed off the high ceilings as children wove through the crowd, their eyes wide with wonder at the grandeur of the occasion.

At the top of the hall, King Icarus and Queen Ileria sat upon their thrones, their faces radiant with pride and happiness. Queen Ileria held their eight-year-old daughter, Irena, in her arms.

The girl's blonde hair glowed in the light of the chandeliers, and her bright green eyes shone with wonder as she saw the festive feast before her.

Leaning close, the queen spoke in a hushed tone to her daughter, her voice gentle and full of awe.

"My little Irena," she said, gently pushing aside a stray lock of hair that clung to the girl's cheek.

"Yes, Mama?" Irena gazed up at her, her tone as delicate as the petals of a spring flower.

The queen's eyes shone. "You are the light of this kingdom... the hope of our people."

Irena leaned back her head and smiled shyly. "Will I be a good princess, Mama?"

Queen Ileria's heart filled with emotion. "Of course, you're the very best," she vowed, pressing a soft kiss to Irena's forehead.

At the feast's peak, King Icarus stood, his towering form drawing the hall's instant attention. The chattering crowd subsided, leaving only the warm crackle of the giant fireplace.

"People of Aurelia!" the king bellowed, his deep, resonant voice ringing through the great hall. "Tonight we do not gather for a mere feast, but also to celebrate the future of our kingdom-my daughter, your princess, Irena."

A wave of cheers swept through the hall before falling silent once more as the king held up his hand.

"She is not only my daughter," he continued, looking down at Irena with a smile, "but the very heart of Aurelia. A reminder of our strength, our unity, and the hope that lights our way through the darkest of times."

He stepped forward from the dais, offering his hand to his daughter. Irena leaped from her mother's lap and grasped her father's hand with both small hands. Warm whispers rippled through the audience.

"Come, little one," said King Icarus, holding her up so she could look above the gathered guests. He held her high with pride.

"This," he declared, his voice swelling, "this is the princess who will carry our dreams forward. May her life be filled with courage, wisdom, and compassion, and may she lead Aurelia into a brighter future!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, voices rising in a wave of joy and devotion. Some raised their goblets high to toast the princess, while others bowed in respect. Mothers held their children close, whispering prayers for blessings on the young girl. Fathers clasped their hands together, their hearts swelling with renewed hope.

Queen Ileria watched the scene unfold, her heart full to bursting. She looked at her husband, proud and tall with their daughter in his arms, then at the crowd, their faces alight with love and loyalty. A tear slipped down her cheek, not out of sorrow but sheer gratitude.

The celebrations went late into the night, filling every corner of the castle with music and laughter. They danced, sang, and feasted with unbridled joy, their spirits lifted by the presence of their eight-year-old princess.

Beneath the flickering candlelight in that grand hall and under the watchful eyes of their king and queen, the people of Aurelia finally felt something long forgotten-a feeling of hope that brighter days lay ahead.

In her father's arms, Irena gazed out at the smiling crowd. She waved a small hand, prompting another cheer. Then, hesitantly, she leaned into her father's shoulder, slowly smiling, and held tightly to his finger, as if holding on to her future.

The night wore on, and the party inside the castle walls grew more boisterous. Children ran and played between tables while adults shared stories and raised their glasses to toast not only the princess but also the kingdom's unity. A group of knights, led by Sir Jace, performed a ceremonial dance, their swords glinting in the chandeliers' light, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd.

Minstrels sang ballads of Aurelia's strength and victories, their voices weaving tales that brought tears to the eyes of older villagers. Others joined in the singing, their voices blending into a harmonious chorus that echoed through the grand halls.

King Icarus and Queen Ileria walked through the crowd, greeting guests personally. Hearty laughter filled the air as the king shook hands with a rough-looking farmer who presented a basket of fresh fruits for the banquet. "Your strength is Aurelia's strength," the king said, his voice gruff with sincerity.

Meanwhile, the queen knelt beside a timid little girl who offered her a jasmine flower, gently stroking her head. "Thank you, sweet one," she whispered, placing the bloom in her hair and giving the child a radiant smile.

As the candles continued to burn out, marking the final hours of the celebration, King Icarus rose at the front of the hall again, his voice strong and laced with feeling over the continuing conversations.

"My people," he said, his voice even but cracking with emotion, "this evening we did not only celebrate the birthday of a child, but the very essence of our kingdom. It is your love, your bravery, and your unity that make this kingdom what it is-a family. And together, we will create a future worthy of our children."

The crowd hushed, listening to every word.

"I thank you all for honoring my daughter on this night," he continued, his eyes sweeping over the gathered faces. "For your unwavering loyalty, your hard work, and the love you have shown my family tonight. Know that we are nothing without you. Together, we will face any challenge, any obstacle, and we will always prevail."

Her Majesty Ileria moved forward, her voice soft but resonant. "Tonight, when I glance at all of you, I see not simply people but friends, neighbors, and kindred spirits. You have filled this castle with laughter, joy, and hope. For that, I thank you all from the depths of my heart. May we stand together forever-not only as a kingdom but as a family."

The crowd broke into applause, some shouting words of heartfelt gratitude. "Long live the king and queen!" one voice cried, followed by many more. "And long live Princess Irena!"

As the crowd began to scatter, many stayed behind to exchange warm words. "Tonight, it felt like a dream," an elderly woman said, clasping her hands in prayer. "Our kingdom feels hope again."

"Princess Irena is truly a blessing of light," said a young man, admiration in his voice. "She will grow to bring light to Aurelia's future."

The last guests had left, and the castle grew quiet once more, though the warmth of the celebration lingered. King Icarus and Queen Ileria were weary, yet content as they carried their daughter to her small bed in her room.

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The room was simple but beautiful, the walls clothed in silks and gold. Soft moonlight spilled through the tall window, illuminating the room in a gentle silver glow. Queen Ileria sat at the edge of the bed, tenderly brushing her daughter's golden hair as little Irena burrowed into the soft blankets, her green eyes drooping with sleep.

Standing close by, King Icarus observed them, a rare softness in his eyes. "She's always perfect," he murmured.

Queen Ileria smiled, her face glowing even after the long day. "Of course, she's always our hope, Icarus. A gift from the gods. For her... we always stand stronger than ever."

The king nodded, his hand lightly resting on his wife's shoulder. "For her and for Aurelia. No matter what challenge comes, she'll have a future worth living for."

They stood in silence for a moment, watching their daughter's peaceful sleep. The soft breathing of her small chest seemed to echo the steady heartbeat of the kingdom itself.

Finally, the queen spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Goodnight, my sweet Irena. Sleep well, for tomorrow is another good day, just as you've inspired us tonight."

Hand in hand, King Icarus and Queen Ileria sat on the edge of the bed, while Icarus slowly closed the door behind them.

The grand hall of Aurelia Palace was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through tall stained-glass windows.

Queen Ileria smiled weakly, a shiver of apprehension crossing her eyes. "You know," she said softly, "I pray only that the world does not burden her too soon, before she can face life's realities. To lead, to protect, to bring peace... it is a brave destiny for such small hands."

King Icarus nodded.

Outside, the distant rumble of thunder hinted at an approaching storm, but within the palace, warmth and love triumphed over the foreboding night.

Little Irena's soft, uncertain voice broke her sleep. "Mama... is the storm coming to get us?"

Queen Ileria leaned down, kissing her daughter's forehead. "Oh, no, no, my love. It's just the wind playing in the sky. You're safe here, always."

King Icarus knelt beside them, holding Irena's small hand in his calloused one. "You are braver than you know, little one."

Irena nodded hesitantly, her hand gripping his finger tight. "Hmmmm. I don't like the sounds..."

"We'll send the sounds away, dear," the queen promised, wrapping the blanket tight around her. "Your father and I are always here."

The wind shrieked through the corridors, rattling the tall windows and swaying the candle flames. King Icarus's eyes snapped to the blackened panes, his face clouding. "Do you sense it?"

The wind outside grew stronger, whistling through the great high towers of the palace.

King Icarus glanced toward the window, his expression curious. "Do you think we are being tested?" he asked. "The storm approaches, as though the gods themselves mark this night with significance."

Before Queen Ileria could answer, the room darkened slightly, as if a shadow had passed through the walls.

Both parents instinctively turned toward the cradle. Irena remained fast asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling peacefully. But a sudden chill crept into the air, causing the queen to shiver.

"Do you feel it, Ileria?" the king asked, his voice lowering.

She nodded, drawing her arms close as she shivered. "Yes... a strange cold, like a whisper on the wind."

A knock at the door startled them. A royal guard entered, his face pale and his armor glinting faintly in the dim light. "Your Majesties," he began, his voice trembling, "the High Priestess of the Sacred Divine requests an urgent audience. She says... she has sensed a disturbance."

King Icarus and Queen Ileria exchanged worried looks before nodding. "Bring her in," King Icarus ordered.