Alistair, now fully aware of who he truly was, was furious. The life of a mere boy did not suit him, nor could he remain in this state for long. As the power of Aeltherion surged through him, memories of those who had betrayed him flooded his mind. The faces of the Seven Golden Knights appeared in his thoughts. These knights were the ones who had been sent to slay him. They were responsible for his death and for the erasure of his name from human history. They were his enemies—his future targets.
The realization consumed him.
The villagers, despite having witnessed the destruction of the monster horde, looked upon him with fear. They didn't know what he truly was. Alistair was no longer their savior; in their eyes, he was an unnatural force, too powerful to control. To them, he was a mystery—one that could destroy everything if left unchecked. In their fear, they turned against him. Words were spoken behind closed doors; there was talk of hunting him, of locking him away, of exiling him.
Aeltherion felt the sting of their indifference. The memories of his battles, his sacrifices, burned within him. He had protected this world and its people from monsters, demons, and catastrophe, but now they feared him. They would all pay.