"Hey, have you heard?" a man dressed in farmer's garb said, sparking a conversation in a wagon bustling with fellow travelers.
"The mighty dragon Arutol attacked the capital just the other day!"
"No way... That place must be ashes now," his friend responded incredulously.
"Not at all! He was magically cleaved in half as he was about to roar, and his corpse was hurled just outside the city walls! The guards claimed it was the Goddess herself who intervened, promising their safety before swiftly dealing with the dragon!" he recounted with a mix of awe and excitement, captivating the attention of others in the wagon.
A figure swathed in cloth from head to toe listened intently to the exchange.
"That's nonsense... Where was the Goddess when the Demon Lord wreaked havoc!?" the skeptic retorted dismissively.
"The Goddess works in mysterious ways," the first man said, gazing skyward reverently.
"What a load of crap! That's just something people say when they can't explain something! The Goddess does whatever she pleases, whenever she pleases," his skeptic friend argued.
"H-HEY! You shouldn't speak so disrespectfully about the divine—"
"Now, now, fellow travelers," the cloaked figure intervened, his voice soft yet carrying an authority that quieted the wagon. "There's no need for such spirited debate among us. Remember, our nature is measured not only in times of conflict but also in peace," he counseled gently.
The wagon fell silent, the other passengers reflecting on his words.
"Indeed, the ways of the divine are not for us to judge so harshly. We humans must strive to understand each other's views, not condemn," the cloaked figure continued, his hands resting calmly in front of him.
"Y-yeah... That makes sense, I guess," the skeptic replied, somewhat pacified by the old man's gentle logic.
"Now, I'm particularly keen to hear more about how Arutol met his end. Could you elaborate on that tale?" the cloaked figure inquired, leaning forward with keen interest, urging the storyteller on.
"Sure, uh... Well, you see, the Royal Capital has been under dragon threat for the last sixteen years. About ten years ago, Yagun, an offspring of the Dragon King, tried to incinerate the capital himself but was stopped by Magus Veil and his party," the storyteller began, his enthusiasm rekindled.
"Ah, Magus Veil... the hero?" the old man interjected, curiosity piqued.
"Yes, the very same... Uh, let me think... what else..." The storyteller paused, looking upward as he tried to recall more details.
"Despite Yagun's defeat, the Dragon King kept sending his forces to attack the capital. The city responded by reinforcing its defenses. For about eight years, everything held steady, mostly because whenever a crisis arose, Magus Veil would miraculously appear to save everyone," he continued.
"But then, two years ago, Magus Veil committed suicide. Nobody knows why. He had everything—a horde of beautiful women, numerous children, and the adoration of the populace," the storyteller elaborated, a note of bewilderment in his voice.
"Yes, yes, I am familiar with that part... But please, do go on. Your storytelling is quite captivating," the hooded old man encouraged warmly, touching the storyteller's hand lightly to urge him further into the narrative.
"Ah, I'm glad it interests you, Elder!" the storyteller chuckled, pleased with the old man's attentiveness. "But after Magus's death, the Capital was thrown into chaos. They overhauled the Royal Academy's curriculum to make it much more stringent, ensuring that only the strongest could graduate and join the city's defense forces against the dragon threat. They've been pushing their troops and these new Wyvern riders to their limits, and even started developing powerful magical weapons to stand a chance against threats like Yagun."
"Wyvern riders? I'm not familiar with that term," the old man interjected, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Oh, right! About six years ago, the Royal Capital managed to acquire several Wyvern eggs from the demonic realm," the storyteller explained with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
"Did they now?" the old man's voice sharpened with a sudden intensity, his interest clearly piqued.
"Yep," the storyteller confirmed obliviously, unaware of the old man's growing agitation.
"They initially used the first batch as test subjects to figure out how to tame and ride them. Once they cracked it, they assigned their most formidable fighters and wizards to the Wyverns, enabling them to take on dragons on more equal footing," he continued, growing more animated with the tale.
"R-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HEeeeeally..?" the old man called slowly, his tone laden with a mix of anger and disbelief.
'I finally remembered... The way of Ace The Venturer...' the old man mused internally, his deep sigh masking a tumult of emotions as the storyteller paused, slightly unnerved by the old man's sudden change in demeanor.
"Are you all right, old man?" The storyteller asked with concern as everyone's attention shifted to him.
'Well... I suppose the humans were desperate. It doesn't mean either I or Her Majesty will overlook these actions lightly,' the old man pondered internally.
"Ah, yes, quite. Please excuse me, my allergies are acting up," he said, regaining his composure with a soft sigh. "Please, continue. Your storytelling has a calming effect on my spirits," he added encouragingly.
'He told me he learned this in his old world... From their... Ace, he called him. He mentioned this Ace could make even the most demonic of souls docile with these chants of his... Interesting. I shall inquire more about this Ace when we meet again,' he thought to himself.
"Right... Anyway, fast forward two years to today, Arutol decided to attack. The Dragon King must have heard about the Hero's death, so he probably thought it would be an easy conquest. And then, the Goddess herself intervened! Who else could it be, with Magus Veil gone?" the storyteller continued, his voice carrying across the wagon.
"Ah... I see. Do you know why the Dragon King would want to attack the capital?" the old man inquired further.
"No one really knows. Perhaps something precious is buried beneath it, or maybe it's because it was where Magus was summoned from his world," the storyteller speculated, shrugging slightly.
"Ah, I see. But may I indulge a bit of your time for an old man's curiosity?" he asked the storyteller gently.
"Of course! I enjoy your company, Elder, so ask away!" the storyteller replied with a warm smile.
"You mentioned... Who else could it be but Magus Veil to stop Arutol? Is there truly no one else?" the old man queried, his voice steady yet imbued with a hint of intensity.
"Well, there really isn't anyone else at his level except, perhaps, the goddess herself..." the storyteller responded confidently, his statement resonating with nods of agreement from the others in the cart.
"Ah, but are you quite certain of that?" the old man pressed, his expression pensive.
"I've heard that when the Capital conducted their Heroic Summoning Ritual some 23 years ago, they summoned not one but two heroes. The second hero... what was his name... Ah, yes! Van Hellix! He was also part of the hero's party, wasn't he? Could someone like him have stopped Arutol? I heard he favored a greatsword; perhaps he could have been the one to slay the dragon."
Everyone in the wagon fell silent for a moment, trying to remember the name.
"Van Hellix? Uh... Ah, yeah!" the storyteller exclaimed, snapping his fingers as if trying to jog his memory. They then exchanged looks, a brief silence falling over them before they all burst into laughter.
"Getting old, aren't you, old man?" The storyteller's skeptic friend teased, clapping Varlog on the back as laughter rippled through the cart, the wagon driver chuckling along.
Varlog, clad in his cloak, looked around, his confusion evident despite the mirth around him.
"Van Hellix was the weakest member of Magus Veil's party!" one of the cart travelers exclaimed amid laughter.
"Hahaha, yeah, I heard he always sat on some distant chair, watching while Magus fucked all his future wives... None of the six women in their party even wanted to touch that loser!" another added, his laughter booming through the cart.
Varlog's hand clenched in anger.
"Wasn't he just tagging along because he was Magus's best friend from their old world? I heard Magus just took him along out of pity!" another chimed in, their laughter growing louder.
Varlog felt his blood boil at the blatant disrespect for Van.
'How dare these ignorant humans...' he thought furiously. Yet, just as his anger nearly overwhelmed him, the storyteller patted his back.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, elder... We didn't mean to offend... It's just, there's no way Van Hellix could have been the one to stop Arutol, even if he was summoned with Magus. Besides, didn't he leave their party over 16 years ago, right after their victory over the Demon Lord? Why would he return after all this time?" he reasoned, looking sympathetically at Varlog's concealed form.
"I understand... Thank you for the clarification," Varlog replied, striving to maintain a calm demeanor despite his simmering anger.
Suddenly, unable to contain his emotions, Varlog burst out with an odd chant, "BIDI-BIDI-YO-WAH, PLCK!!"
"Old man...?" one of the travelers muttered, their amusement turning to concern as they looked at him quizzically.
"Shimichimi, shimichimi, shimichimi, HAIIII-YAH!! RRRUFF!!" Varlog continued more loudly, his outburst echoing strangely in the air.
'Ahh, once again, the peculiar methods of this Ace from Van's world have helped me control my wrath,' he thought with a hint of gratitude.
"Excuse me... My allergies seem to be acting up. I think it best I take a nap so as not to disturb you all with my outbursts," he explained, bowing slightly to the others on the wagon.
'I wish I could have met this Ace... Just once, for a brief handshake... Perhaps then I could have absorbed even an eighth of his talents; That much would have been enough to better guide the younglings towards a brighter future,' Varlog mused internally. A small smile played on his lips as a sense of peace washed over him, reflecting the comforting thought.
'Well, regardless... It seems I must seek out dear Van Hellix in the Royal Capital,' Varlog resolved, settling back into his seat to rest for the remainder of the journey, enveloped in his thoughts.