The master of the third floor, the ruler of magic in the tower, the strongest wizard Elyana Fexon walked through the rough patches of the rainforest in the company of the colonel of the sunflower legion.
Pushing away some wines and branches from his path, the rough colonel spoke up to the wizard without looking back.
"I had members of the army look into them."
"How cautious of you," the wizard answered immediately. "I had my people look into the linguist too."
The Colonel and the Wizard stared at each other for a moment.
"There is nothing about him, he has only been spotted rarely in Symphonia's streets these last few days," the Colonel muttered. "He would have to be a new one in the tower. A chosen."
The mode of entry into the tower was transparent yet shrouded in mystery.
Either the doors would open and invite you in, or you can push them open and step inside yourself. Many reached the tower and jumped inside, the tower that could be seen from everywhere in the world was also close to everywhere in the world.
But even those that never reached it could push it open.
And those who were called. Had no choice but to step inside. For most the calling of the tower was a blessing, but for many it could be a curse.
Proactiveness was something many possessed, but ability to be proactive was rare. In that case, the white haired beauty of a man calling himself the linguist seemed to be very capable for someone new.
Far too capable.
To be able to lead the tower like this was no small deal.
The wizard shook her head at the words of the Colonel.
"I believe that is too lenient a judgement. He can do far too much for someone who has just suddenly appeared in the tower."
Her wrists flicked to the side.
A slight smoke rose into the air.
The Colonel looked below and found creeping vines from the ground set ablaze as they reached out for both their feet.
"I had my people search too, but there's no sign of that man doing anything. There were people talking about that bastard Ativan walking around with a girl similar to the linguist, but they said she was timid enough to make even sheep question her survival."
The Colonel crushed the burnt ashes of the vines and shook his head as he set off again, now more vigilant than before.
"That Ativan, I looked into him too. He's just the ringleader of the petty bastards in Symphonia, but seems very capable these days."
The wizard chuckled, her hand on her lips as her purple hair swayed.
"Capable? That man? Here I thought you had grown wiser, Colonel, but you're only halfway there."
The Colonel clicked harrumphed in anger and crossed his arms. Old as he was, his mood remained fickle.
"Don't riddle me, brat."
The Wizard suppressed a laugh as she saw the pouting colonel. It was quite the look on a tank like him.
"You speak like you know him well."
A sigh left the wizard then.
"Know him well… yes, I believe you can say so."
The Colonel's brows raised.
"You do?"
"He used to be an acquaintance…" The gleam in the Wizard's eyes grew sharp then. "One I wished I didn't have to see again."
The murderous intent leaking out of her eyes almost made the veteran attack in shock. He stopped and turned toward the Wizard.
Even when her eyes and heart calmed down, his instincts didn't.
A whistle rang in the air as something came charging through the cover of leaves and straight toward the wizard's neck. In front of the sudden ambush, the Colonel's fists glowed orange.
[Crushing Fist (C)]
In a single swoop, his punch shattered the air near the wizard's head, and along with it broke apart a small arrow.
Both the veterans got into battle position and turned to the trees only to find leaves looking back at them.
"Guess you have…"
The Colonel spoke.
Their hearts sank and their eyes widened. A horror they didn't want to imagine. The true carnal fear that a person held when alone was the fear of not truly being alone.
And that fear was manifesting.
"More people to get acquainted with."
***
"To call them tribes on their own is a mistake," my voice rang with the chirps of insects in the forest as the Regressor followed close by.
"Sure, they separated, but they are factions, units warring against each other."
As the trees started to grow thicker and thicker, the regressor's footsteps dimmed down.
"They follow the same gods called nature and eat the same plants and save the same animals. They only hate each other and everyone else, all because of foolish misunderstandings."
By now, the others must have seen them too.
"There are two ways to solve such problems, Regressor. Can you guess?"
The Regressor crossed his arms and hummed.
"Do we make them all sit together and talk? A dialogue is the best way… sir."
"Not wrong," I said. But if there was supposed to be one person wise enough to see flaws in this then it would be the Regressor. "But would that work, truly?"
"If they have been warring for ages, then no," The regressor said. "When times goes down and war continues, especially on such a small scale and over misunderstandings at that, people lose their ability to judge the reason for war. That we are at war is reason enough."
I had been noticing changes.
But how much the regressor spoke was the most of it.
Was this guy slowly, just slowly starting to see his life as disposable? It might as well just be a thought at the very back of subconscious, but if it is true, then he was bound to become truly useful.
"Correct," I said.
"Then what will we do?" Asked the Regressor.
It wasn't a change I disliked. He remained obedient and interactive, a doll that never resisted was bound to become boring.
"We'll ally ourselves with the strongest," I said and pushed the vines ahead. In front of us, was the village of the strongest elf tribe.