(A/N: Hello hello, mic check? Hi ho lads and lassies, it's Anti here. I'm gonna say that this chapter is more of me trying to stretch out this world ever so slightly, so if you don't think that a little bit of world building is worth your time, then I guess you could wait for the next week's chapter. So yeah!)
The city was slowly but surely coming to it's fruition. The local smiths and artisans were more than willing to add some of their expertise to ensure the safety of their own and the ones that they care for.
The Raytharians were far, scourged by another drought within the steppes they occupied, and the beasts within the Great Dark Forest were quiet nowadays. And as such, a bumbling little child was running through the streets with his grocers in hand, breathing quickly to make sure that he was able to deliver his purchases to the matron for breakfast.
He decided to name himself Arthis, why perhaps? To try and replicate the name of one of the greatest heroes he had ever heard about. The Grand Mage Arthis, a scholar of such high renown that the very crown of their country had gifted him a city, this city.
The very same city that the little boy Arthis was living in. He had a smile on his face that wouldn't be so easily deterred from anything so inane such as accidentally scraping his leg on the pavement.
Albeit the tattered condition of his clothing may be worsening, twas better to have some clothing and food within your belly than all your clothing but hungry. He couldn't help but sigh at the statue that laid in the city plaza, the visage of the Grand Mage casting a miracle through the powers of Mana, knowledge, and most especially the very thing that allowed Man to rise to their position within the realm. The System, as it called itself.
The Grand Mage was a man that wished to learn even further than whatever others would have been capable of. The very thought of the gods giving forth new thoughts was the thing that helped give the pep in the Grand Mage's step.
Of course, it proved to have it's difficulties, but adversity only makes the fruit of knowledge ever more tempting to be consumed and used for the greater good of all of Man.
Little Arthis prayed in a small tongue that little people ever quite understood as he went back to running to the matron. Matron Agatha was a great woman, like a mother to those without. She was given the duty. of taking care of those who had nearly no one to take care of them.
He couldn't wait to fell her patting his head again. But as he stepped into the front door of the building, things felt off. He looked left and right, and yet for whatever case, the front door was silent. Opening it, it creaked and moaned a good while as he gulped down the fear and walked over to the kitchen.
There were many things wrong, but he couldn't think to try and ask for the help of the Scholastica once again. He may have had the issue of mistaking normal phenomena for something more arcane.
'No Arthis! You know how the Matron gets when she doesn't get the food quickly enough to the others. They're relying on you!'
The little lad steeled his will and walked briskly to the kitchen, where the Matron would normally be making her next batch of delicious delicious stew. He never quite knew what exactly was the stew made of, but it had lots of meat and vegetables in it!
She said that it would help him grow big and strong, allowing him to have the proper constitution to be a Mage in the Scholastica. But as he kept walking to the kitchen, he heard a plate shatter and stopped in his tracks. A fight? Here? Or perhaps a burglar who grew fortitude and decided to take on a home for those without.
Arthis clenched his fist and looked around for something to use as a possible bludgeon, but he knew that he was more than too young to try and fight someone who's had experience with other ne'er-do-wells.
So he crept, slowly but surely, as he jarred through the door with but an inch and dated his curiosity with fear. The Matron was there, indeed, but she had a face aghast with fear as she kept the other children behind her.
Arthis couldn't properly see what exactly she was trying to keep the other children from, but something was marring her face. Red, dark, and stunk of copper, even from the doorway.
Blood. Someone was hurt, he didn't know specifically who, but it was the main case that he was able to surmise.
The fear was slowly but surely creeping into his heart. Perhaps the city guard must've heard the commotion, even if the kitchen was far from the street.
But as he opened the door even slightly further, it was then that he saw it. Two beings that felt wrong within the world. Arthis felt the fear seize his very movement as he remembered the sermons about what they were. For'eign, creatures cast away from the safety of the System.
Beings that predated upon the Man that were stronger yet weaker. And most importantly, the heralds to the greatest enemy that had claimed the lives of the members of the Great Mage's old party.
They were the Heralds to the Blooded War Beasts, borne from the Dungeon of Blasphemy. Creations of the Dungeon Monitor, who was named a Demon Lord by so many of the faiths within the world. He clenched his fists and realized that they were conversion with each other in their accursed tongue.
He knew that his level was terrible, and he hadn't even had the chance to properly train for anything, due to the existence of the Youth Blessing, which made all youth that had been born be incapable of levelling until they matured enough, but while it confused Arthis about why this was so, he would be reminded why this was the case.
The Youth Blessing made sure that no child would ever be harmed and that those who nurtured the children would be gifted with grand amounts of experience, any and all attackers would be cursed with debuffs beyond what the mortal body would ever be able to handle. But For'eign did not have the Blessing, nor did they suffer from the curses.
It was placed into the bodies of the Youth to allow them to be safe, and reward those that kept them safe. For'eign on the other hand, had no such issues with culling the young. Arthis had begun to get a better glimpse of the two For'eign that were within the kitchen.
The first looked like a basic For'eign, one that the Grand Mage himself had properly studied to no avail. It was aptly named the Peon, which confused a great many, but it soon passed. But the other one, it made the fear in little Arthos' heart scream at him to run away, and his instincts were coming at him with the same thoughts.
It walked over to the Matron as she started to pray, hoping that the gods would answer her prayer, while Arthis could do nothing but watch the maddening beast lumber and slowly crouch down to her level.
"Your gods are not hear, Blessed One. But mine? Mine yearns for the blood of you and yours. My liege's plans are fruitful, for as long as he could possibly locate the next natural-bornes, he'll be able to make even more of his blessed fruits to ripen."
It started to make the closest possible sound to a chuckle as Arthis had started to realize that he had tears in his eyes. He was afraid, who wouldn't be? These For'eign were sent by the Dungeon Monitor himself. The accursed Creator.
"And when they ripen, my kin and I shall taste the sweetness of his plans. But I shall tarry no longer, where is the boy?"
The matron looked at the For'eign with disdain as she huddled the children to her back as tightly as possible.
"I will never stray from my duty, abomination! The city guard and Scholastica would rather burn me and this building down than allow your foul machinations to come to fruition!"
Arthis felt a pang of hurt in his heart as he realized that the Matron didn't simply just perform her duty. She made sure that the creatures wouldn't be able to figure anything out. It was somehow between what was expected of her, and beyond what she was required to do.
The Peon growled as it was about to lurch forward, until the unnamed For'eign raised it's hand and started to sniff into the air. It was at that moment that Arthis was able to catch a proper glimpse of the beast that was terrorizing his friends and protector.
"He is here, oh you sly little fox. Did you truly believe that your pact with that god would save the boy? He shall be brought our lod immediately. GO PEON."
It shouted out to the Peon as it slobbered on the ground while running for another door, which led to a different hallway. Arthis needed to hide, but he also wanted to save the Matron, who was currently wearing a face that screamed out to the world 'Someone save him!'.
The other For'eign, on the other hand, seemed to walk over to the mana stove and inspect it.
"My Lord had created me with a purpose, you know that right? A purpose to properly do his bidding, but not simply that. He gave me form that allowed me to speak in your Man tongue with eloquence, proper quality to allow the right amount of fear into your paltry existences."
And as the beast saw the knife rack, it pulled one out and threw it so close to the Matron's head that it cut a bit of her ear.
"He also gave me form that was strong enough to back up the fear. A form that I shall cherish and make use of, for as long as I am able. But the greatest gift of all-" the creature paused as it's very body started to morph and take upon a form that could only be described as a hauntingly vivid form of beauty.
"-was his allowance for me to take any form I so please. I am an amalgam of his will made malleable. I am his cushion should he so choose to use me. I am his stepping stool. I AM HIS TOOL."
It proclaimed as the form was finally made obvious, it took upon the form of a woman with beauty that little could ever possibly hope to ever replicate. "And a tool must be sharp, when it needs to. So I ask of thee, Blessed, what foolishness befell upon thee to take upon the spawn of a hero? Moreso, the spawn of the one that nearly died by my master's hand?"
It walked over with swaying hips as Arthis was feeling something else within him. The matron, looked at the For'eign with repulsion and fear evident, as she started to pray even further.
Arthis carefully walked away from the door as he was shocked by the revelations of the For'eign. He? The son of a hero? Natural-born? What did that mean? He truly had the blood of a hero?
No, it must be a mistake, he has no such features that ever matched the Grand Mage, or any of the others.
It must be another child that was here! It was the only thing that could have possibly made sense to Arthis at that moment.
He crept away from the door and tried to leave, only for him to come face to face with the Peon, who's face was the closest possible thing to be used to describe the word abomination.
It was breathing right into his face as its own started to slowly but surely tear apart and reveal a mixture of teeth, tongues, tongues on teeth and teeth on tongues before Arthis. Screaming from the fear, he tried to run away but it quickly caught him by the collar of his tattered shirt and tried to pull him towards it's horrid grips.
Alas, the tatter may have save the poor lad from a fate that not many were unlucky enough to see it. And so he ran, ducking and jumping as best as he could from the Peon as he had to reach the door to the street, where he could have a chance to call forth the city guard.
But as he kept on running, he realized that the length of the halls were different from what he remembered. They were supposed to be shorter, but now, they seemed to stretch onto infinity.
He couldn't help but begin to panic, with his breathing becoming quicker and shorter as the For'eign came even close to him, with a mockery of a smile that showed just how much contempt and glee it had for getting a fresh quarry.
There were many things that Men knew not about the creatures, but the things they did know, was that they held within their grasp abilities incomprehensible to even the great System of the World.
Arthis was outright unlucky to be the victim of their abilities. And as the Peon was right on top of him, rearing and drooling to consume his flesh, the tapping of the floor signified tht the other possible fate that he would've suffered from was about to be realized.
"Ah, very good little one. Our Lord shall reward your efforts grandly. Now then, I can only assume that by the scent of fear in your heart and shit in your pants, that you've been listening into my little discussion with your rearer? What do you Mean call them? Matrons and patrons?
How deluded to think that any of them truly cared for any of the unwanted kin your kind plop out of the filthy genitalia of your progenitors."
He wanted to retort with whatever possible words could be in his oh so limited vocabulary, and yet they failed him. The only thing that came out of him were the sounds of sobbing from his mouth, tears and snot from his eyes and nose respectively, and piss from his pants.
The higher For'eign seemed to chuckle as it took upon a different form, abandoning the feminine visage entirely and taking upon a form akin to the slimes that the city guard would use to train their squires. Alas, twas a For'eign before him, not a simple monster, but one crafted for the sake of wiping Man out.
"Now then, time for you to meet my Master, and I would suggest you start praying natural-born, for we love the sound of your gods' wrath, because it makes itself known that they are as flawed as their creations.
After all, the saying goes you are what you eat, and with how much I've feasted, I could have such colorful descriptions of myself, but my personal preference is as a wondrously innocent maiden, looking for the affection of the one that gave me life."
Arthis saw for a split second that the For'eign expanded out, covering him, before he closed his eyes as he felt the power leaving his bones.
Thus, the life of the natural-born of the Grand Mage Arthis, Arthis, had been snuffed out long before he had truly begun to grow into his destiny.