Phoenix Vanguard: Legends of Astravera

The Graduation

A week after his tenth birthday, his master gathered him beneath the towering trees of Wyrmwood Cradle. The air was thick with anticipation as the master announced, “You have completed your training, young warrior. You have graduated from mentorship.”

Andres' heart sank. “Graduated? But I’m not ready! You can’t leave me now! Master, please don’t go!” he pleaded, his voice tinged with panic.

His master’s expression grew somber. “I must go on a quest for the Covenant. It is a difficult one, ranked S. The odds are against us, and many have failed.”

“Why do you have to take on this quest? You know the dangers! No one returns from a Rank S quest!” Andres pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. “You know it’s a death sentence! Why would you take such a risk?”

His master sighed, a mixture of regret and resolve in his expression. “This is the way of a warrior, Andres. I must answer the Covenant’s call. Strength lies not just in the blade, but in knowing when to fight and when to step back. This is my duty,” the master replied, firm yet compassionate.

They argued throughout the day, each word a desperate attempt to sway the other. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows in the clearing, Andres felt the weight of impending loss heavy in his heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of his master facing death alone.

Finally, as darkness enveloped the village, his master departed without another word. Consumed by worry and curiosity, Andres followed quietly, slipping out of Wyrmwood Cradle and into the night.

Outside a cave-like structure that loomed ominously under the moonlight, he found a group of elite adventurers gathered, their faces set with determination. The air crackled with tension, and Andres concealed himself behind a cluster of trees, eyes wide as he watched his master step forward, joining the group. He had never seen his master in action, and the sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. With each clash of metal, Andres felt a mix of pride and fear swell within him, realizing just how formidable his master truly was.

The adventurers prepared for battle, discussing their strategy in hushed tones. Andres could feel the fear radiating from them, a palpable aura that made his heart race. What monster could elicit such dread?

As the party entered the cave, a dark foreboding filled the air, wrapping around Andres like a shroud. He dared not move, his breath hitching as the sounds of clashing metal and pained cries echoed from within. His master fought valiantly, showcasing skills that left Andres in awe—swift strikes, fluid movements, and a fierce determination that seemed almost divine.

The cave itself was an eerie expanse, illuminated by the flickering light of torches that cast elongated shadows across jagged rocks. The ground was uneven, strewn with stones and patches of dark, damp earth, each step forward laden with uncertainty. An unsettling echo magnified every clash of metal, every gasp of pain, and every incantation murmured by the spellcasters in the group.

As the adventurers engaged the beast, a monstrous figure emerged from the shadows, its form a grotesque blend of sinewy muscle and dark tendrils that writhed like snakes in the dim light. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly malice, and as it opened its mouth to roar, a chilling sound reverberated through the cave, freezing the blood of everyone present.

The first adventurer, a burly warrior clad in heavy armor, charged forward with a battle cry, swinging a massive axe toward the creature. The monster sidestepped effortlessly, its movements fluid and unnatural, and countered with a swift swipe of its arm, sending the warrior crashing into the cave wall with a sickening thud.