The warmth of the day lingered in the air, a salty breeze drifting in from the deep blue ocean. The scent of grass mingled with the tang of the sea, creating a perfect harmony. It was a beautiful day, a day meant for anything but fearing for your identity.
Xora glanced over his shoulder, his heart pounding. He hastily tried to transform his finger back into its human form, but it was too late. The damage was done. He squinted, shielding his eyes as the blinding sunlight forced him to adjust to its brilliance.
"Who's there?" he demanded, his voice sharp and tense.
The figure in the distance moved with an ethereal grace, their presence unsettlingly familiar. The crunch of soft grass underfoot punctuated their approach. Xora's chest tightened as he tried to piece together the mystery.
"Strange," a voice called out, resonant and otherworldly. It sounded less like speech and more like the echo of a thought, unearthly, spiritual. Finally, Xora could make out the figure standing before him.
She was tall, her pale skin so stark it was almost translucent. Her irises were white, ghostly and unnerving as her hair white as freshly fallen snow, shimmered with streaks of a sickly, vibrant purple. Xora's breath caught. She was an elf, but not like any he had encountered before.
He had seen elves, had even devoured some during his earlier days here, but this one was different. Everything about her screamed impossibility, like she didn't belong in this world or any other. And yet, he knew her. Deep down, he understood exactly what she was.
"You must be one of the Four," he said, his voice quieter now, filled with reluctant recognition. His gaze locked on hers, wide and unnerving, staring directly into his soul.
She hummed, a hauntingly quiet sound that sent chills down his spine.
"Why am I even asking?" he muttered, shaking his head as he stood up. His hand rested on his hip, and he sighed, feigning nonchalance.
The girl said nothing, her eerie humming continuing as her eyes bore into him. She wore a pristine school uniform, its every line and crease immaculate, as though dirt and disorder couldn't touch her. The perfection of her appearance was unnerving, as was the weight of her presence.
Then, she spoke. "Echoes and the beauty of the chaotic tide, turning and flowing through the dimensional fold of existence." Her voice distorted, overlapping itself like a melody intertwined with a collapsing black hole. Each word made less sense than the last, her speech an enigmatic riddle.
"What?" Xora's voice cracked with confusion, his composure slipping as he stared at this cosmic anomaly cloaked in flesh.
"Beauty," she said, her tone almost wistful. "The rivers flow, and life begins, as it always does. I fluttered awake after my candle, my existence ceased and burned away." Her lips curled into a smile, soft but unsettling. "I have you to thank for that."
Xora's stomach churned as her words sank in. Of course. It was his fault. He was the reason these Four existed, the reason this anomaly was standing before him now.
"I see," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. It was all he could say.
The girl... no, the entity, continued to smile, her gaze unyielding.
"Why are you here?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay steady.
"I wanted to see you," she said simply.
Xora's brow furrowed. He felt his stomach drop, her words striking something primal within him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She took a step closer, her smile widening.
"To be more specific," she began, her voice tinged with something almost... wistful, "I want you." Her hands rose to her face as she let out a soft, almost reverent sigh. "Ever since you ended me, all I've wanted is you. Your magnificence. Your allure. Your love." Her smile became dreamlike, her tone dripping with sickening adoration. "Ah, it was sublime…"
Xora stiffened as she reached out, her cold hand brushing against his cheek. "My name is Flora, by the way," she added, her smile never wavering.
Disgust and confusion warred within him. Part of him felt repulsed, while another part, a part he didn't want to acknowledge, felt strangely flattered. He shook his head, stepping back and waving her off.
"Okay. I've got to get to class," he mumbled, the words tumbling out in a rush.
Before she could respond, he turned and bolted, sprinting toward the school building.
"...Oh," Flora murmured softly, watching him vanish. She stood alone in the field, her hands lowering as the eerie hum of her presence faded into the breeze.
Xora dashed through the building's entrance, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Students milled about, lounging in the lobby or chatting in clusters. He ignored them, weaving through the hallways until he found an isolated corner where he could finally stop.
Leaning against the wall, he pressed a hand to his chest, his heart hammering against his ribs. "What the fuck was that?" he hissed under his breath. The words came out raw and shaky.
He slumped against the wall, dragging a hand down his face. Never, in either of his lives, had he felt like this. That encounter those words stirred something unfamiliar in him, something he didn't understand.
He needed answers. Needed to tell someone. But who could possibly explain what he had just experienced?
"Oh, you're just flustered, dude," Jax said casually, crouched down as he fastened the straps of his leg armor. "You know how it is when a hot babe is fawning all over you? It's natural to feel excited or-" He paused, straightening up to glance at Xora, his brow furrowing. "Your armor's not on right."
Xora blinked, looking down at his gear as Jax stepped forward. "Here, let me show you," Jax said, quickly adjusting the straps with practiced ease. "Anyway, like I was saying, either you're flustered by her charms or you're just plain horny."
"Horny?" Xora asked, bewildered as he began to redo his armor properly.
Jax nodded sagely. "Yeah. You know, when you get all hot and bothered inside... like when your dick gets all-"
*Thwack!*
Jax yelped as a heavy slap landed on the back of his head. He spun around to find Instructor Davis glaring down at him, a scowl etched deeply into his weathered face.
"Keep that discussion to yourself, young man," the instructor growled, his voice gravelly and full of authority.
Instructor Davis was a grizzled, middle-aged former adventurer with a perpetually sour attitude. He had once been a legend, a promising A-class adventurer with tales that echoed through taverns and guild halls. But an arrow to the knee had ended his career early, forcing him into retirement. Unable to let go of his connection to the adventuring world, Davis had taken up teaching at the academy, using his reputation and old connections to secure the role.
"Sorry, sir," Jax said, though his grin showed he didn't feel sorry in the slightest. He was a rascal through and through.
Davis glared at him, looking as though he was on the verge of delivering another slap. Instead, he took a deep breath, muttering something under his breath about "kids these days" and his long-lost patience. Even with his knee injury, Davis still carried himself like the A-class adventurer he once was, and his reputation alone was enough to keep students in line, most of the time.
Xora finished tightening the last strap on his armor, sparing a glance at Jax, who seemed entirely unbothered by the reprimand.
"You were saying?" Xora muttered dryly.
Jax grinned, rubbing the back of his head where Davis's hand had landed. "Nothing. Just that you're definitely flustered, bro."
Davis shot him another glare, and Jax quickly busied himself with his armor, pretending to focus with an exaggerated look of concentration.
Xora sighed, shaking his head as he adjusted his gauntlet. The chaos of this academy never ceased to amaze him, and after the events of earlier that day, he wasn't sure whether Jax's nonsense was a welcome distraction, or just another headache. 'he's still impressive despite his withering stats'
⌈ NAME: Davis King. LEVEL: 94
CLASS: Warrior. TITLES: Retired Adventurer, Bad knee Man. The bad luck kid.
HEALTH POINTS:1400/1400
STRENGTH: 103. VITALITY: 70(-1).
AGILITY:72(-21). DEXTERITY:69.
INTELLIGENCE:51. LUCK: 0(-2).
MAGIC: 0. ENDURANCE: 55.
FAITH: 33. CHARISMA: 29.
'A whole bunch of negative next to his stats. I guess that happens when you have a permanent injury.'
Satisfied, Xora gave a small nod after finally securing his armor correctly. Across the field, Instructor Davis finished his lecture to Jax, who looked as unbothered as ever despite the tongue-lashing. Davis, clearly fed up, gathered the students in the center of the training grounds.
The training field was alive with activity, other instructors barking orders at their groups, the clang of metal against metal filling the air. Davis launched into an explanation of armor basics, how to identify each piece, proper maintenance techniques, and how to keep everything functional in the heat of battle.
Jax, predictably, couldn't help himself. "Hey, speaking of maintenance, sir, you might wanna polish that bald spot. Oh wait, too late!"
A round of muffled laughter erupted among the students, but Davis silenced it with a sharp glare. His patience was clearly wearing thin, but instead of retaliating, he threw them straight into rigorous training drills.
The next few hours were grueling. Armor training, weapon drills, archery practice, dungeon etiquette, and even language lessons, it was enough to exhaust even the most seasoned adventurer. For Xora, a former Eldritch god unused to such a mundane existence, it was a relentless slog. By the time the day ended, he staggered back to his room, drenched in sweat, his clothes reeking, and his limbs aching.
The final insult? Elven language homework awaited him on his desk.
"Hard day, aye?" Jax's voice broke through the silence. He was already sprawled on his bunk, smirking lazily as he leaned over to watch Xora stumble inside. His tone carried the same infuriating ease it always did.
Xora sighed, his frustration evident. "Yeah, you could say that."
"Kay," Jax replied, flopping back onto his bed with a smug grin.
"Is there, like, a way to clean myself?" Xora asked, dropping his armor onto the floor and grimacing at the pungent smell clinging to his clothes.
Jax's muffled voice came from under a pillow. "In the river?"
Xora frowned. "Are you serious?"
Jax chuckled, tossing the pillow aside. "Nah, dude. We had a shower... but I kinda broke the magical crystal that powered it."
"Of course you did," Xora muttered, rubbing his temples. "So is there another way?"
Jax paused, his grin widening mischievously. "Well... no. Wait—actually, yeah. There is something you can use."
Xora's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as Xora, the once-mighty Eldritch god, made his way toward the church side of the academy. The campus was divided into distinct sections, each tailored to a specific course of study: the adventuring course had its testing dungeons and training fields, the magic course boasted the towering spire and the sprawling magic field, while the church had its own collection of traditional structures, including a medical ward and public baths.
It was the baths Xora was seeking now, trusting Jax's suggestion despite his better judgment.
The building was quiet as he stepped inside, the faint scent of lavender mingling with the thick steam that wafted through the air. He passed into the changing rooms, noticing the heavy moisture clinging to the walls and the persistent hiss of hot water. Someone else was here, it was obvious from the dense steam, but Xora didn't pay it much mind. He stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes, draping a towel around his neck, and moved toward the bath.
The sound of gentle humming greeted him as he entered, harmonizing softly with the rhythmic rustle of pages being turned. The melody was calm, soothing in a way that momentarily melted his exhaustion. But the thick steam clouded the room, obscuring whoever was responsible for the sound.
"Beautiful voice," Xora murmured to himself as he approached the bath.
He lowered himself to the edge, letting his legs sink into the hot water. A long sigh escaped his lips as the heat worked its way into his weary muscles. Slowly, he eased further in until the water reached his neck, his feet brushing the smooth tiles at the bottom.
"This is nice," he said aloud, his voice breaking the stillness of the room.
A gasp cut through the steam.
Xora blinked, startled. He reached out, parting the dense fog with his hand. His vision cleared just enough to reveal the figure across the bath. The sudden brightness of pale skin momentarily blinded him, and for a split second, he thought it might be her, the crazy girl from earlier. But no, this was someone else entirely.
"Oh, it's just you," he said, realizing who it was. He recognized her now: Briar that nun girl...
The realization didn't seem to calm Briar. She stared at him, horrified, her face rapidly turning crimson. She clutched a towel to her chest, clearly flustered by his unexpected presence.
Xora, on the other hand, remained completely unbothered. Nudity wasn't something that phased him, he wasn't perverted by any stretch. Clothes were merely a societal norm he'd learned to tolerate, albeit one he appreciated for their aesthetic qualities. Still, this wasn't the first time he'd encountered someone unreasonably upset about a perfectly natural state of being.
His eyes wandered for a moment. Her skin was smooth but scarred, each mark a testament to hard-won battles. Her physique was impressive, far more muscular than most knights he'd encountered. But what caught his attention most were her uncovered eyes: brilliant purple irises that seemed to glow faintly in the steam.
'Beautiful' he thought absently, his gaze falling on the book in her hands.
It was a romance novel, of all things, brightly illustrated with a cheesy title, Sunfire's Love, printed in gilded letters above a heart-shaped emblem. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh, though he managed to stifle it.
"I-I-I…" Briar stammered, her wide eyes darting between him and the book before narrowing into a glare. "Why are you here?!" she demanded, her voice a mix of anger and embarrassment as she scrambled to cover herself.
Xora shrugged, his tone casual. "My shower broke."
"And that gives you the right to come here?"
"I mean, isn't this public?"
"No!" she snapped. "This is strictly for the women's side!"
Xora frowned. "Well, Jax told me otherwise."
"Jax?! Who in the hells would believe him?!" Her voice rose to a near-shriek, the book forgotten as she clutched her towel tighter.
Xora tilted his head. "I mean… he did say he comes here often."
Briar's face darkened with rage. "That fucker!" she growled.
Without another word, she stormed out of the bath, her footsteps heavy against the tile. Xora leaned back against the edge of the water, too drained to care much about her outburst. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth lull him into a rare moment of peace.
His serenity was short-lived.
Briar burst back into the room moments later, clad in fresh clothes and wielding a comically oversized halberd that gleamed dangerously in the light. She pointed it directly at him, her stance rigid and practiced.
"My name is Briar, Executioner-in-Training," she declared, her voice sharp and commanding. "Prepare to die!"