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A man clad in a black robe, his face hidden, stood in a place that had nothing but cracked earth. There were no signs of trees or life.
"Asheeron," he said, stepping forward.
Tree roots started appearing from the ground, and dark, ball-like Aetherion could be seen rising to darken the sky. The place became engulfed in darkness, with purple flowers, glowing light flies, and spirits appearing.
"You called for me, master," said a Geomorph known as a Draymorn, a member of the dryard race. Its body was made of vine-like trees, but dark, and a glowing core could be seen in its chest. The core darkened as it absorbed the nature energy.
The mythical being knelt in front of the man.
"The place with the most Aetherion has finally cleared," the man said, grinning.
"That means we can now continue our goal. Send your vestiges to go and suck that place dry of its energy."
"As you command."
A thousand tree-like monsters emerged from the roots, each easily being B-rank. One that stood in front of the group was seven meters tall, bearing a resemblance to Asheeron.
Asheeron stood and looked up at them.
"Defeat anyone in your path. Whether they fight or run, take all their energy."
The monsters began their rumbling march, heading toward the next forest on their way to Wyrm Forest.
"Hehe, a thousand only? Are you sure that's enough?"
Looking at the man, Asheeron replied, "Yes. My vestiges will grow much stronger than that. As for the dragon, by then, it will be stronger than her. They will also multiply as time goes on. Master, why do you need the energy?"
The man sighed and turned away from Asheeron.
"I am a mythical beast, and yet you tamed me—not to mention you knew where to find me. All the time I spent with you, I saw nothing but a merciless creature. But from where I stand now, it appears you are crying."
"Is that so? Well then, so be it. Eventually, I will get what I want. Don't go wasting your power creating those vestiges."
Without awaiting a response, the man left. A piece of his cloak revealed a cross with a blue line in it.
Asheeron looked at it and sighed. Nothing changes, but I will kill you, dragon, and become the supreme being I was meant to be, he thought.
I'm starting to show… I must really be getting desperate. I have to get my game back. Hehehe.
Even with enhanced vision, Zereth was having a hard time tracking the movement.
Is it an enemy?
No, it can't be, he thought. I don't sense any malice.
Getting closer to the gate, Zereth could see Missanya and Pascal along with other folks. Standing in front of them was a person.
"Lord Zereth," they all said, looking at him.
"You must be the leader of this place. Please help us out," the person said, bowing.
"calm down, calm down" he said waving his hands
"Let's head to the White House," Zereth said.
As they walked, the guy seemed to be looking around, astonished. His eyes were wide, turning his head over and over.
An Okarin? Zereth thought, looking at the guy. They were the game original and had some ties with the Oni. For some reason, ogres don't evolve into Oni, but Okarin do—or at least that's how the game went. Sighing, he thought, Even to this day, I'm still the only one who evolved, so I know that.
Sitting in his office room, behind him was a huge window. Not far from it was a red carpet, and farther away were red couches.
At least they left the walls white.
"You can sit down," Zereth said, pointing the visitor to a couch.
"Thank you," the man said.
"So, what's your name and story?" Zereth asked, putting his hands on the table.
"I don't have a name. I am an Okarin, a high magical-born race, so our kind can't give each other names."
He looked down, maybe a little shy. Aeltheris and Missanya were sitting on the couches opposite him. Maybe it's them that he's afraid of, Zereth thought.
"As... as to why I am here, it's simple—I need your help," the man said.
He moved from the couch and started to prostrate, his head deep on the ground.
"Hey, hey, you can't just ask for help without giving the details. What if this thing you're asking is impossible?"
The guy looked sad. I'm right. He's asking the impossible of me, but I can't shut him down without knowing for sure.
"Uhmm, uhmm, our two tribes—the Okarin and Kiroki—were on bad terms with each other, with war possible. We are neighbors."
"And you guys got into war with one another?" Aeltheris quickly jumped to conclusions.
Touching his forehead, Zereth let out a sigh. Even in serious things...
"Not entirely. This isn't the first time we've faced such wars. The problem came when he showed up."
"He?" Zereth asked.
"Yes, a man wrapped in a black robe. He came and told us to be prepared for war and not to waste our energy on useless things. Our tribes fought him, and many were killed in the process."
Pascal, Carlo, and the other Boaroth all looked like they were already picturing the massacre.
"I suppose he left. So, the reason you called is because of war?" Zereth said.
"Yes, we are descendants of a warrior race, so asking for help is something we don't like. But none of us could beat Asheeron's vestige."
Aeltheris and Zereth both seemed to have shocked faces. Everyone in the room looked at them as they reacted similarly to each other.
Aeltheris was even more shocked. She knows I'm an otherworlder, but how does he know Asheeron? she asked herself.
"Is everything alright, Sir Zereth?" Missanya asked, nervous about our reaction.
"Huh? Yes, everything is fine," Zereth replied, his face showing a little worry.
"How do you know him?" Aeltheris asked, looking at Zereth.
"I should be asking you that question, since you were a shut-in for centuries."
"Ah ha ha ha, I fought him once when I was just little."
"Did you? Who won?" Zereth asked.
"I wasn't serious when I went about it with him... ha ha."
She lost. Although I have no way of knowing how powerful she was or how proficient she was at controlling her aura back then, I deduce she lost.
"Will you help us?"
Looking over at the guy, Zereth said, "Of course we will. We can't let that thing roam around."
"Finally, I'm going to fight!" Aeltheris said, standing up from the couch.
"Nope, you're not going."
"Sir, Sir Zereth, please let me go at him once!" Aeltheris said, reaching her hand out to Zereth.
"No, you are remaining." Zereth's mind was made up.
"How many fighters do you have?" he asked the Okarin.
"We have about 800 on hand."
"800, huh? That's not bad. How much force does the vestige have?" Zereth asked, moving from his table.
"About two thousand."
Two thousand? That's big numbers. I do have warriors on hand, but I want to avoid deaths as much as possible, his mind lingered.
"Pascal, tell the warriors: 500 of Skyborn, and the same of Geomorphs. The same goes for Ogres and Boaroth."
"Yes, sir," Pascal replied, rushing out of the room.
"Alright, everyone. Missanya, you and Carlo go ensure the remaining protect this place. Their home isn't far from here, so they will come here one way or another."
"You are quite knowledgeable about Asheeron, aren't you? How's that?"
Scratching his cheek, Zereth said, "It's complicated."
After all, Asheeron is a mythical beast I'm well too familiar with. But something's bothering me. His location isn't supposed to be known. If he can form a vestige, that means he has been tamed.
Who could pull such a thing? The so-called knights or someone who got summoned?
I doubt anyone from here knows about it. All the more reason I want to check it out.
"Alright, this is it," he said, putting his sword on his back.