FATE: The Man with Divine Keys

Seeing the prey about to escape, the wyvern spread its wings, preparing to chase it down, but its path was blocked by a broad iron sword.

"You won't pass, not unless you cross over my dead body!" 

An old knight with white hair stood defiantly in the way, his voice low and resolute.

The vertical pupils filled with wild intent now glowed with a crimson hue as the wyvern displayed its demonic and fearsome form, its sharp fangs oozing a foul, viscous liquid, emitting a deafening roar that shook the heavens.

*ROARRR!*

The ferocious shockwave surged like a tidal wave, causing the old knight to involuntarily take a step back, his calloused hands showing bulging veins.

Facing a Phantasmal Species of the Age of Gods, he knew he had no chance of victory.

But for some things, even when you know you can't do them, you still have to try.

That's the knight's honor.

"Come on, beast! Let's see if those teeth of yours can swallow this old bone!"

The wyvern charged forward, its immense power carving a long trail on the ground.

With razor-sharp claws and a sturdy tail, the wyvern unleashed its full might, its onslaught like a torrential storm, rendering the old knight defenseless.

Like a small boat in a raging storm, teetering on the edge of capsizing, he was in constant danger of being overwhelmed.

He wasn't a hero with mysterious powers; he was just an ordinary man who adhered to the knight's code and honed his skills tirelessly.

A curse of aging had taken his youth, along with his strength and reflexes, leaving him only with the wisdom and experience accrued over time.

But it was all futile.

The wind howled, and the hefty tail whipped across his abdomen like a cruel master's lash and got thrown while breaking three large trees in succession before he finally came to a halt.

He was truly old now, and the labored, heavy breaths in his ears were the mournful cries of his aging body.

He couldn't see anything anymore; thick, sticky blood obscured his vision. Even the pain was no longer as sharp.

The pungent stench of blood lingered in his nostrils, and he guessed the damned creature was contemplating where to start eating.

"It smells worse than old John's armpits..." The old knight muttered, lowering his sword.

He had fulfilled his duty, living up to the name of a knight.

"Ahh... I remember the apples in the backyard were almost ripe. What a pity, I wish I could take another bite while I still have teeth left."

*BOOM!*

A crimson lightning bolt tore through the deep night, instantly piercing the wyvern's skull and pinning its colossal body to a tree trunk.

"It's a shame not to have teeth good enough to bite into apples, but that's just how it goes..."

A young man, nearly indistinguishable from the darkness, stepped out, a black and white luminescence coiling around his hands forming a beautiful lance. He gently touched the old knight's shoulder with it.

A surge of immense life energy flowed into the old knight's body. It mended his broken ribs and damaged organs, turning his pale white hair into a lush, dark mane. It swelled his withered muscles and erased the wrinkles from his face.

In just a few breaths, the old knight's injuries had completely healed, and his body had grown even stronger and younger, as though he had gone back decades in an instant.

He knelt on the ground, his head pressed firmly against the earth, trembling all over, experiencing a fear he hadn't felt even when facing the wyvern.

Miracle.

There was no doubt about it. Only the gods, as the legends told, could wield such incredible power.

Lowly, ignorant mortals should never gaze directly upon the divine glory, for such an act was undeniably blasphemous!

"O Divine One, this lowly ant, Karl, greets your divine presence!"

Arkhan paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "You've misunderstood; I'm just an ordinary passerby, not some divine being."

The old knight, Karl, still didn't dare to raise his head. The temperament of gods was often extremely whimsical. One moment they might lend a helping hand with kindness, and the next moment, without hesitation, they could take your head.

Though he wasn't a devout believer, he always remembered the admonitions from the church—"In the presence of gods, always show humility!"

So, despite Arkhan's reassurances, Karl refused to lift his head.

Knights were known for their unwavering determination. Once they set their minds on something, not even ten oxen could pull them back.

Helpless, Arkhan had to say with a slightly annoyed tone, "If you don't get up now, I'll get angry."

Karl quickly stood up. He cautiously examined the unknown god before him. Judging by appearances, the figure in front of him seemed to be around fifteen years old. But he knew that was meaningless; gods cared little for looks and age.

His gaze fixated on the boy's black hair and eyes. Karl trembling all over, he almost knelt again.

As a former subject of the Ancient Roman Empire, that powerful empire had been like an insurmountable mountain in the hearts of the Britons. Those black-haired Roman soldiers were as valiant as the offspring of gods, fearless and relentless, like raging rivers, sweeping away all obstacles.

The Britons both feared and admired that mighty empire. They revered black because it was the conqueror's color, a symbol of strength.

The young man before him not only had black hair but also deep black eyes. Wasn't this the unmistakable sign of a god?

Karl had never seen a god before, but to him, black hair and eyes were undoubtedly traits only possessed by ancient and powerful gods!

Arkhan looked strangely at the old knight. For some reason, he felt like this guy was trembling even more.

'Is my face that scary?'

Arkhan touched his own face. Growing up with the nourishment of the Abyss Flower, even the Queen of the Land of Shadows couldn't help but exclaim that his face was 'as radiant as the sun.' There was no way he was scarier than those monstrous wyverns.

Loud noises echoed from all directions, followed by deafening roars.

Karl's face turned pale. "Awful! I forgot that wyverns live in groups. There must be more of them nearby! If we kill this creature, its companions will go berserk! Lord God, we need to escape!"

"First, my name is Arkhan, just a normal human, and not some god..." Arkhan said, extending his hand as his crimson spear flew back into his grasp.

"Second, we've already been surrounded."