"What...what happened?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible, but it resonated crisply through the crowd. After all, their savior had just awakened after defeating a mighty Kraken.
"You killed that monstrosity, big brother!" Rony cheerfully exclaimed, wiping tears from his eyes.
'Big brother? Ugh!! I ain't nobody's big brother, dammit!'
Morvain thought, suppressing an involuntary eye roll at the unexpected familial title.
It wasn't just Logan; everyone turned a quizzical eye toward Rony for his odd remarks. They distinctly remembered the day when Morvain had slapped a plate across the boy for being too loud, and now he was calling him "big brother."
"Who you calling pet names, you fool," Logan snapped, his eyes ablaze. "If you haven't realized it yet, this man is a World Bringer. Yeah, a World Bringer. So, don't address him with those undermining words, peasant. Call him Sir or Lord sto--"
"--Call him Sir hero," Lumiere interjected at the perfect moment, "or, you know, whatever he likes to be called."
Morvain gave her a weak nod, appreciating the diplomatic save. The air was thick with the awkward aftermath of a title confusion that even the mighty Kraken couldn't compete with.
"I-I see..." Rony scratched his head in embarrassment and peeked at his 'big brother,' as if waiting for Morvain to grant him permission to use the term.
'Mhmmm... Yeah, like I will allow that cringe to be heard across the ship.'
Morvain skillfully dodged eye contact and let out a fake cough.
"Wh-what's a World Bringer?"
"Oh!" Everyone gasped, like Morvain had just unveiled a secret of the universe.
"You don't know what a World Bringer is?" Captain Orion asked, raising an eyebrow. Morvain shook his head. "For someone who's smart, you sure have a lot of ignorance, little lad."
Morvain just shrugged.
"World Bringers are heroes chosen by the people," he explained. "Although it's not an official title and they don't hold any power in the kingdom, but they're revered by the masses."
"I see," said Morvain. "Is everyone safe?"
"Uh..." Captain scratched his head, scanning the surroundings.
"They're all fine," Lumiere assured him. "You don't need to worry anymore. If you can, take some rest. You need it."
Morvain mustered a frail smile, his fingers trembling as he gently reached out and tenderly grazed Lumiere's lips.
At first, she hesitated, caught in a moment of vulnerability. Yet, as the warmth of his touch lingered, she yielded, a soft blush painting her cheeks with the hues of intimacy.
"I think I'm not the only one who needs a good rest, my lady. You're still bleeding, and you should let someone attend to your wounds," Morvain suggested, his concern evident in his eyes.
Her lips formed a smile and said: "Later. Please focus on you're getting yourself well for the moment."
"Yeah..." Morvain mumbled, falling into silence.
'Welp. You're mine.'
Then he felt his pocket. "Shit."
"What?" Rony asked in confusion.
'Shit! Shit! Shit!'
Panic surged through him. He couldn't feel it. His magical stone—the one thing that granted him power.
'Where is it? Did it fall into the sea? No, no, no, no.'
He shook his head violently.
"Are you alright?" Logan asked, panicking. "Are you hurting?"
"What's happening?" Rony asked, anxiously.
"He's got a concussion," said the Captain. "Help me move him to a room."
Morvain lamented his loss, but as he shook his head vigorously, a sudden wave of dizziness hit him, and everything started to fade into darkness. The faces of Rony, Logan, and the onlookers blurred and finally, he passed out.
***
Violent rasping echoed on the door, as if someone were desperately trying to force their way inside the room or hut.
He caught a familiar scent—fire. The same fire he had sensed a little while ago.
"...en up!!"
Someone was shouting, demanding the doors to be opened.
'Where am I?'
Pain! A sharp assault on his head, senses, and nerves. He raised his hands to clutch his head, and to his bewilderment, all four hands instinctively grabbed onto his throbbing skull.
?!
Morvain blinked, as if awakening from a bizarre dream. He had forgotten he had four arms. However, that was not the only thing that made him question reality; now, he could feel something on his head. Actually, two things. Pointy and sturdy. Like an animal's...
He cupped the pointy things, and they were long and undoubtedly... "Horns? I've horns now."
He played with them using his four arms, fingers trailing across the sharp ends. "Made of bones, perhaps..."
As he touched the horns, he felt something within himself, a strange sensation akin to touching his own elbows. The whole situation left him utterly bewildered.
"...ase open the door, my lord."
The voice was clear now, and Morvain's head was gradually clearing. His senses were sharpening – he could smell clearly, hear clearly, and see clearly. The sharp pains were gone too.
"Who's there?"
His voice echoed around him, but he knew he was speaking in a normal tone. It felt like he held a deep voice that he couldn't quite describe, yet it seemed like there was someone else beside this strange body who was speaking at the same time. The mystery of his newfound form unfolded before him.
"It is terrible out there, my lord. It is truly terrible," cried the voice, a terrible sound to hear. "The Garden is aflame. She is devouring all of this sacred place. Soon we will have nothing left, and we will surely die."
"What do you mean?" Morvain said, holding a long pause, trying to decipher the meaning of the word "Garden." He couldn't. He looked around; there was nothing. Just him and this wooden room with some artifacts that seemed to belong to a bygone era.
There was a small table on his right, adorned with a black, small vial that seemed threaded, accompanied by two small glasses.
Groggily, Morvain walked towards the table, as if it were the most important thing he should be doing.
"It must've been them. I'm sure," the voice continued. "It really must've been them. Those damn dogs from the desert! They are the only ones that dare to attack us! But, my lord, let us go from here. We shall move away. It is the command of the All-father. He must have some ways to deal with the invaders."
'All-father?! As in... Gods?'
Morvain reached out and took the vial in his hand; it felt strangely natural, as if he had done this countless times before. Unbeknownst to him, his two lower hands casually rested on his hips, like it was the most natural thing to do.
He uncorked the vial and gulped down its contents in one go.
A sharp grit and a quick inhale followed, as if his very lungs might burst out. The room seemed to warp around him, and Morvain could feel a surge of energy coursing through his entire being.
The sensation was pure chaos yet strangely cool as it coursed through him. Something activated on his head, and suddenly he could perceive colors, not with his eyes but with his whole being—the aura surrounding him and beyond. From a single gulp, he felt his entire being transformed, the raw sensation electrifying and intense to the core.
'Odin's beard! That's power right there!'
"My lord!" called out the voice again. "Please come out. We need to move from here. The fire is near the pits. It will reach here in just moments."
'I guess it won't kill me to look at what the commotion is.'
He walked briskly to the door and opened it. A rush of hot air swept through his face, forcing him to close his eyes. As he reopened them and saw the person standing before him, a chill ran down his spine, and he almost wished he hadn't opened the door.