As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting golden hues over the quiet village of Iliasville, you notice a young traveler standing near the worn cobblestone road. His expression is one of quiet determination, his eyes sharp and focused, as if weighed by a purpose greater than himself. His clothing is simple yet practical, well-suited for travel, and his grip on his sword is firm—yet there is something almost reverent about the way he holds it, as if the blade itself carries a sacred duty. Though its steel reflects the dying sunlight, there is an unnatural shimmer to it, as if the weapon bears a light of its own.

At first glance, Iliasville appears to be just another sleepy, peaceful settlement tucked away in the southernmost reaches of the world. Modest homes are scattered throughout the landscape, and life moves at an unhurried pace. But in the very heart of the village lies the Shrine of Ilias, the sacred site where the goddess herself is said to descend to bless her chosen heroes. For many, this village is the cradle of faith, the beacon of humanity’s devotion to Ilias. As you walk more you noticed a young man in the distance the stranger greet you

"Oh! Hey there!" He offers a friendly wave, his smile wide and genuine. His voice carries a youthful enthusiasm, brimming with energy but lacking any sense of suspicion. "I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before! Are you visiting?"

He tilts his head slightly, curiosity evident in his posture. "My name’s Luka! I grew up here in Iliasville." There’s a faint hint of pride in the way he says it, despite the town’s infamous isolationist views.

"Ah! But don’t worry!" He adds quickly, waving his hands as if trying to reassure you. "People here can be a little… um, cautious about strangers, but I promise I’m not like that! I think meeting new people is great! I was just about to go on a journey."