Hunter Mythos
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Alexander the Dragon - Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2023-09-09 14:19:39 +0000 UTCChapter 1 - It's time for an adventure
I was the nightmare of men, both good and evil. I was the apex of monsters, the king of mountains, the blood of tyrants, the relentless thunder heard wide across the myriad empires and wilds of Uroboros, the Realm of Myth and Magic.
I am The Dragon.
These were the lies I told myself, which were especially potent and acidic at the age of thirteen, when I was finally considered an adult. These lies were the salve to my wounded ego, nursing me to stand upright on all four paws with the coming of morning. The lies were the bastion of security walling off the harsh words of my mother during her assessment of me yesterday.
She had gone away as quickly as she came, thankfully. But her words lingered like the deep shadows snaking and snapping behind the flames in my chest.
Puny. Soft. Like a human.
I stamped my fore paws onto my meager nest of treasures, the strikes echoing off the cavern walls of my little lair. A smattering of gold coins clattered from the blows, splashing upward between my claws before raining about haphazardly.
How careless of me. I would have to sweep the coins back in place later. All to hide the barren spots of cavern rock underneath my oh so thin layer of treasure.
It hadn’t grown yesterday. Mother had given nothing. The lack of its growth was as troubling as the air of disappointment left behind when she disappeared from sight last night.
It was tempting to lay back down as an ill wave of weakness swept over me. It was sadness I was feeling, I supposed. I shook it off instead and growled to hear my voice echoing through my lair. Small as it was, it had good acoustics.
Presentation was important when inviting would-be foes and ill-begotten thieves. If anyone were to get past the ward.
Before I set off, I carefully plucked the thick book I had been reading off my bed of hard-earned pelts and gifted treasures. Another nice feature to my lair was the natural shelf formation of rocks in the corner.
The wall there held my collection of books. Study materials regarding the history of the Central Kingdoms and the geopolitical placement of my home, the Kingdom of Advenire. It also contained books covering the basics of magic, the legends of heroes and villains, and the philosophies of the main central peoples, elves, dwarves, and men. There were also the books of western follies and the forever war against corruption and evil.
It was a hefty and expensive library. Sometimes I treasured it more than my layer of gold and gems.
They were large books. Compared to the size of a human. About three feet high along the spine, so over half the size of the average human.
A young adult dragon such as myself found these books to be adequate enough in dimensions. I was ten feet tall at the shoulders when I was standing. When I raised my head, with all four paws settled on the floor, I achieved fourteen feet naturally without my horns being accounted for.
I had thought that was impressive. Apparently, it wasn’t.
I leaped out of the cavern mouth and twisted through the cut in the mountain that hid my lair from prying eyes. The magic circles etched into the twin sides of the mountainous cut flashed only once to acknowledge me as the benefiter of the ward. Not my creation, the ward, but one day I would be proficient enough to conjure my own.
Today, I was the amalgamation of bloodlust, teeth, and claws. I was a furnace of pressured fire bound in a flying fortress of scales.
I spiraled through the air as I dove, hurtling toward the rocks below, picking up speed before straightening my body with a twist of my tail. Then I spread my wings wide. The roaring wind slapped against the skin of my wings and triggered the inherent magic that most, if not all, dragons claimed as barons of the skies.
Flight!
I swooped through the air, my underbelly skimming inches above the dark rocks at the base of Mount Alexander. My body rattled from the forces of natural laws meeting magical laws.
Mountain goats and goatmen, lowly beasts and monsters alike, scattered from before me as I picked up altitude and turned north toward the forest. It didn’t take long to leave behind my little mountain home and soar above the emerald tree tops of the Charmed Forest.
Morning birds scattered quickly, cawing in alarm at my oncoming form. I rotated until my right side was parallel with the earth, my left wing cutting through the belly of a drifting cloud, wetting it with water droplets that smelled of the past night.
The rising sunlight beamed from the east, warming my dark scales. The eternal darkness shifted and wavered continuously to the far west, walled away by the River of Death, but never dispersed from mind whenever I chanced a look in that direction of the horizon.
I shook off the fright that wanted to take hold of me when looking westward. There should be no place inside my dragon body for that pitiful emotion: fear.
I was above the center of the Charmed Forest, a place promising decent game that were infamous for charming unsuspecting prey with fey-like powers. Unfortunately, for them, dragons were highly resistant to charms, and I was the same.
As I searched for the right prey, a conflict erupting down below caught my discerning eye. Flashes and booms of magic thundered up into the air, shaking the nearest trees, trampling bushes, snapping saplings.
I tilted my wings and resisted the air to slow my movement. I entered a glide so I could spot what was happening below more accurately. The commotion surrounded what I spy to be a dryad facing off against a miasma of darkness. Further observation revealed the creature at the center of the miasma to be a treant. A corrupted treant!
The situation was precarious. The dryad might not be too far above me in level. Somewhere in the Level 20s or Level 30s. But the treant certainly was.
I was only Level 3, and based on my studies, I knew the average treant was Level 50. The miasma effect enhanced it even further, so it could possibly have the power of a Level 60.
The gap between me and the corrupted treant was too large. My only skill was useless. I had only gained access to the Uroborus System a tenday ago upon my thirteenth birthday. This was a conflict that would not suit me at all and was best left alone.
Mother would’ve considered that weak but smart. Ensure your survival then dominate at a better time.
Father, however, would’ve thrown himself into the impossible challenge anyway. Level gap be damned.
The thought of him stirred the fire in my chest. Before I could think further about what my parents would do, I heard the alarming cry of the dryad as the treant used a lashing vine strike covered in thick miasma.
The dryad was bound to the forest, but not bound to one spot. Her dainty, flower-covered feet dashed over a glade as she dodged the powerful strike. The ground upturned and corrupted with the slamming of the lash.
She raised her hand to respond with a power, but canceled it mid-formation when another corrupted lash strike came down upon her from the monstrous treant. She let out a shriek and dodged to the side yet again, but with less room for error than the last time.
The treant was zeroing its aim. With each attack, it stomped forward, forcing the dryad back, hounding her always.
Depending on her limited range, she might find herself stuck if she couldn’t move far from her origin tree. Depending on how perceptive the corrupted treant was, it could locate her origin tree and strike that instead, dooming her.
She danced on the edge. No doubt, one of those strikes would be the end of her. The upturned ground hissed and crackled with corrupted darkness. The surrounding trees seemed to shy away lest they die and turn corrupted by the invasive treant.
The dryad screamed as a glancing blow from the treant’s lash touched her right side. She tumbled in the opposite direction, shouting further each time she touched patches of the miasma-coated forest floor. When she came to a stop, she sat up on her knees, her battered form trembling like rattling bushes.
Her options were limited now. A heavily threatened dryad could transform into a wisp of green light and flowing leaves and shoot straight toward her origin tree. If that were to happen, she would surely have her tree exposed.
The dryad’s face looked upward toward the looming, forty-foot tall monstrosity, her eyes glistening as dew drops rolled down her green cheeks. The defining blow was raised high, the lash whipped back with gathered force as the treant prepared to finalize its conquest.
I dove at an angle and slammed my shoulder below the treant’s waist with everything I had!
The impact was immense. My entire body was rattled from bone to soul. I bounced off, holding in a painful cry that wanted to echo up from my smarting shoulder and out of my throat.
I held in my weakness and slammed my back paws down onto the upturned and corrupted field, correcting my fall with desperate grace while ignoring the itching touch of the miasma contacting my feet. My vision was a momentary blur, dazed by the impact until I cleared my mind with a few shakes of my head and assessed the results of my impromptu entrance.
The treant was already standing back up from being knocked off-balance. It twisted around with a blur of movement that was far faster up close than it was from looking afar.
I sank low to my belly off of a guess instead of an accurate read, ignoring the miasma pressed against my softer scales. The air above me was a roaring vortex of death as the lash missed me with but a scant few inches to spare. The next attack would be on its way already.
I held it off with a burp of dragon fire.
I wouldn’t dare call it a breath. It didn’t stream.
It flew as one malformed ball that splashed against the treant’s chest, spreading far enough to cover its face and the lower portions of its torso. The corrupted monster backed up in shock before it realized there wouldn’t be much damage to be found in that attack.
No, I was merely serving as a distraction for the dryad to use her powers. A spearing bolt of evergreen magic ripped through the treant’s knee and downed the creature solidly. I scrambled back in shock at the overt show of the dryad’s power before quickly realizing she was much stronger than my previous prediction, possibly in the mid to late Level 40s.
Still, it was clear she needed time to show her best stuff, so I provided her the necessary time by launching onto the downed treant’s back. Claws sinking into wood flesh, creating rents that oozed the foul blood of evil, I latched on tight and used my wings and tail to help counterbalance against the treant’s movements.
Then I burped fire again and again. Blasting at the back of the treant’s head, pummeling it with my ineffective but annoying attacks. The acrid scent of burning cursed-wood filled the air. The excitement of fighting a much, much stronger foe filled me with righteous fury. Some of my flaming burps hit with more oomph!
The monster paused and shuddered.
A sense of danger permeated through my body like a sudden cold front icing the countryside. I flapped with all the might my dragon body could provide and unlatched my claws.
I would’ve been too late if an evergreen cage of bright vines hadn’t erupted from the ground and wrapped around the treant. The dryad was helping me. However, that barely stopped the explosion of darkened splinters the treant emitted.
A long spear of wood entered my side amid the volley. The spear exited out my back in the span of a blink, leaving behind blood and pain and corruption.
This time, I let out an air shaking howl, my waist a storm of pain. I fell from the air and plummeted without control. The ground zoomed upward to meet my face.
I closed my eyes and awaited the impact. It never came. Instead, I landed in a whirling cushion. It felt like a hardened breeze spiraled into a basket.
I opened my eyes to confirm the power enveloping me, knowing what this entailed.
Father was here.
“I have to admit,” said a deep and friendly voice that resonated across the darkened glade, “I am not always so timely. Good thing I came around at the nick of time today.”
A man strode out into the open confidently.
The cushion of air helped me land on my feet before dispersing with a climactic burst, shaking the tree tops and the shrubbery.
Tears and rips filled the air once the wind died down. The treant freed itself of the evergreen cage and stood upright once again – it had regrown its missing leg.
The monster swept its hollowed gaze over the cowering dryad and my bleeding form, and came to a stop to look upon the lightly armored man wearing seemingly cheap leathers. The more impressive sight was the weapon he wielded: a bleached bone axe as large as his six-foot frame. The blade was two feet wide while emitting a frosty mist from its edge.
“Hm, a Corrupted this far into the Charmed Forest? The sprites have been slacking,” Father said before looking past the treant and winking at the dryad. “You did good work holding out, love. You can rest easy now. I’m here.”
The dryad sighed pleasantly like wind rustling the leaves.
I huffed as my father played his usual games.
The treant emitted the first sound I heard from its mouth. The cracking bark of a dozen ancient trees being felled. The damned howl of a hundred men suffering from corruption, as if the treant contained all their tortured souls in its cursed body.
It was a harrowing and heart-stopping noise that sent a shiver up my spine and froze me and the dryad in place. In that window where evil held terrifying grip upon whoever was in earshot, the treant attacked with its deadly lash aimed at Father and–
It – the corrupted treant – started falling apart in two halves. Its attack was stopped before it was completed.
The fight was over without me seeing Father remove his axe from his shoulder. It all happened so fast. Too fast.
The Corrupted died before its halves settled on the ground with two distinct thumps, its miasma-covered bark coated by white-blue frost. The ground under the two halves became ice-covered with a series of spreading ripples centered around the area of the killing blow.
My father was already calling upon the Heavens’ assistance the moment the conflict was resolved. In a display that was godsent, holy beams shone upon our patch of the forest and slowly burned out the corruption until not a trace of the miasma was left.
My wounded side healed somewhat but not completely. Father wasn’t a healer, but the benefits of him being a World Wonder were prevalent. At least I didn’t have to further attend with the corruption gutting me from the inside out until I was a husk of my former self. Though, my somewhat sealed wound throbbed as a reminder of my near death battle.
As the glade healed and my father went to comfort the dryad, I looked at the system notifications waiting for me. They scrolled up before my eyes on a magical blue screen only I could see.
[You’ve helped against Corrupted Lash Treant - Level 66 Monster! Experience gained!]
[You’ve leveled up Dragon Halfborn from Level 3 to Level 4! Free stats gained!]
I sighed in relief. I was worried I wouldn’t get anything for merely helping.
The Uroboros System, the worldwide progression spell constructed out of the last age, the Age of Games, was particular about Experience being distributed amid contributors, especially those of the lower level. I’d researched and had tutors inform me it was not a particularly one-to-one ratio system. Too many factors played a part in the distribution of Experience at the early levels.
There was something along the lines of having to grow your spiritual receptacle for Experience through time and practice before being able to handle more from bigger conquests. In other words, you couldn’t easily get baby-fed Experience with the aid of more powerful allies helping you defeat enemies much greater than you. Such tactics would shrink your earnings to a true pittance unless you had the room for more Experience and put in real effort.
In truth, it would’ve been a waste of potential Experience for all involved if I had killed the Corrupted. The dryad probably gained the most from this since she was closer to the treant’s level and had put in a lot of daring effort. My overpowered father would’ve gained a pittance needed toward his next level.
As Father continued to comfort the dryad and ignore me, I summoned my profile.
Name: Alexander Soulrun
Age: 13 years
Size: Medium-Large - 10 feet at the shoulders
Type: Dragon (Rare)
Subtype: Halfborn - Level 4
Titles: Son of Kings and Tyrants
Traits: Half Dragon (Rare), Otherworlder Descendant (Legendary)
Skills: Shift Between (Supreme)
Spells: N/A
Arts: N/A
Attributes:
Vit 83
End 45
Might 48
Grace 63
Will 80
Attune 40
Free 8
I eyed my only Title with suspicion, wondering if it would’ve truly helped me survive if the battle had been prolonged.
[Son of Kings and Tyrants - Your blood pulsates with the ironclad will of rulers. With this Title, you might survive long enough to enjoy your own sovereign reign. +20 Vitality.]
It was hard to tell if this was the reason I stayed conscious after being struck or not. Because of my circumstances, I was born weaker than most dragons. Puny and soft, as my mother had put it. Maybe a naturally born dragon would’ve handled the treant better.
Then again, no dragon would have risked their lives to help a mere dryad while lacking any true advantage. No dragon would’ve found it relieving for their father to step in, and then accept his disrespect in addressing a lesser creature instead of his dragon son. Then again, that last part was aggravating.
Halfborn, I certainly was, but I could only stand Jaden Soulrun’s games for so long. I flashed my teeth and lunged with claws outstretched, roaring with dragon fire and smoke unfurling from my mouth.
The dryad shrieked despite being stronger than me. She dashed to the side with quick and dainty steps.
Father stood completely unfazed for one moment, then my vision of him and my surroundings became a blur. All I saw was the forest and sky spinning, the wind roaring in my ears before feeling a shocking but strangely soft impact through my back. I was dazed until I realized I was lying supine on the ground, Father’s arms wrapped around my neck. His axe was gone.
“Gods, boy, you are still like a cat!” Father laughed.
“I am not a hairball of a gremlin!” I roared back, squirming to escape. As soon as I rolled onto my paws, I was somehow flipped onto my back again.
Now Father was sitting on my belly, patting it like I was a mere hatchling. “Sorry, sorry, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Based on how you still have quite the temper, I figured it’ll be better to let you come to me when you’re ready.” He paused to look at my wound. “Does it still hurt?”
I stopped squirming and set my scaly brow into a glare. “No. I am fine. I’m better than this tiny scratch.”
It did throb painfully while trying to ‘wrestle’ with him, but I refused to admit that.
A cheeky grin crossed my father’s dark face.
He raised a hand and tightened it into a fist.
My eyes went wide before he ‘popped’ my still-healing wound with a relatively ‘soft’ punch.
The bastard! I grunted aloud and endured the aftershakes of pain before retaliating with a hard swipe. I knocked him clean off me and sent him spiraling into a tree.
He bounced off and fell into a heap, still none for wear, as he laughed off the moment. The dryad was standing on the edge of the glade now, watching the both of us with wide eyes.
I grunted again as I settled back on my paws and raised my head in a dignified posture. It was best I pretended to move on. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Father.” Then, as per decorum, I bent my front legs and dipped my head toward him. “Adventurer King and Royal Ruler of the Kingdom of Advenire.”
“Ah!” the dryad squeaked before dipping down into a bow. Even in the Charmed Forest, where the fey followed their own courtly rules, the Adventurer King was to be respected. It was also petty revenge on my part as Father sighed and waved off the special treatment.
“Stop it, stop it. I’m just a man who is here to see his son after a long year.” Father winced slightly. “And to make up for the lost time on top of missing your birthday.”
“Yes, yes, lost time. Birthday. That matters little in the grand scheme of things. How much of you being here is because of Mother darkening these lands with her presence?” I asked.
Father winced again, which I took a little pleasure in. “Don’t be like that. As many times as we’ve fought, she’s been a helpful ally, too. In fact, things have been quite good with her lately. Trade-wise, at least.”
I huffed at his defense of her. “She’s still a Calamity. Her trades come from the people she’s enslaved.”
“Dominate. She doesn’t do slavery, remember? Surprisingly, most people in her sovereignty are quite happy.”
“I’m well aware of her laws and overly inflated approval rating. I’ve read books on her policies. It’s a thin defense to her ‘altruistic’ tyranny.”
“Enough of that. For now. Your birthday came and your parents were – are – here.”
I almost wanted to say barely a parent in the case of my mother but kept the words to myself. We had company in the form of the dryad, who could be a gossip for all I knew. The fact that she hadn’t left yet was annoying, but it was up to Father to dismiss her. Instead of doing that, he walked up to me and patted my side.
“You’re too mature, boy,” he said. “I barely can recall the years when you weren’t talking like an old man who yells about politics while glaring at the kids running around the foot of his mountain.”
“A dragon must hold himself in high esteem and be acquainted with the world at large. And those amateur adventurers are loud,” I said while allowing him to pat me. I leaned into it. Only a little.
He chuckled good naturedly. “Well, I’m glad you stepped in to help our friend here before I arrived.” He waved at the dryad he still hadn’t dismissed. “I should have moved faster when I sensed something was wrong. I had a hold-up, however, but that is no excuse still. So I must apologize for letting you two go through pain like that. Yet, I also want to say I’m happy to see my son taking risks to help another in desperate need.”
The dryad spoke in a language for treefolk and fey. I hadn’t learned that language and had it on my list of things to learn, but I held the impression that she was happy with my intervention even though her life was dangling on the line.
“She says you’ve shown true bravery and kindness befitting a hero,” Father translated.
I huffed and turned my face away from them.
What I’d done was dumb. I should’ve avoided the entire conflict. Some outside observer might believe that I could’ve helped and stayed safe with flying attacks. I had thought of that, but decided against it since my dragon breath was short and weak and malformed, a consequence of being Halfborn.
Additionally, I had predicted the lash could’ve been turned toward me while I was aerial. Then I would’ve been harmed even worse. Attacking below the sightline while the treant had been unaware of me was the best strategy.
It still hadn’t been enough, really, and I could’ve died if the Adventurer King hadn’t been here.
Why did I help, anyway?
I remembered making my decision when the dryad cried openly. I remembered feeling moved by her open pain and wishing to stop it.
“I have the human weakness in me because of you,” I said bitterly. “Human sentiment. Puniness. Softness.”
Father grinned widely. “Maybe so. But guess what?”
“What?”
“I’m proud of you.”
I opened and closed my mouth. I had nothing better to say as the fire in my chest heated up. Smoke unfurled from my nostrils as I dipped my head.
“Thank you, Father,” I growled softly.
“Did you hear that? He just purred.” He looked over at the dryad as she clapped. “He’s like a cat, you see. You don’t want to approach him at first. Or praise him too much. But he’ll warm up to you, eventually.”
My embarrassment was too much, becoming irritable. I curled my tail around his leg and flicked it skyward.
He soared over the treetops and landed somewhere out of sight, just far enough for me to recover myself. Hopefully, he would walk back and reflect on his actions and try not to continuously embarrass me.
The dryad stayed in the present area. At this point, I had no more mind to giver her and considered her like a tree, a planted existence.
When father returned, he arrived with an unexpected guest. Held in his arms was a little human girl who smelled unremarkable. She had his dark curly hair and big brown eyes, however.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“So, there’s another reason I’m going to be camping out here for the next couple of months. Catching up with you. Making sure your mom didn’t leave her minions around to poke and prod at our defenses. Such and such.”
I stared at the girl in his arms. She couldn’t be any older than four.
I would’ve been nine at her birth. My elven brother, Royal Prince Jasper, would’ve been eight. During that time, I was certain Father was busy with western campaigns against corruption and evil.
“I came back home after a long tour,” he said between kisses on this girl’s cheek. “The queen was visiting her parents in Freyheim and some buddies invited me out to our favorite brothel and I met this gorgeous woman who was starting her first night–”
“Stop.”
Father sealed his lips while mid-kiss on his daughter’s cheek and awaited my next words.
“How mad is the Queen?”
“The scales would’ve broken when weighing that anger.”
I held back a wince. To weigh anything with scales in this world was more than an action. It held significant meaning to all peoples, monsters, and celestial beings. Life and death, good and evil, order and chaos, all could be weighed on the scales.
The Queen was very mad, then.
I thought about the situation further. “When’s your next campaign?”
He gave me a weak smile. “Not due for one until a year from now. Yet, the guards are following her orders to have me stay banished from the capital. Temporarily, I guess. But still! Can you believe that? I rule a kingdom, but I’m banished from my home. Ridiculous, right?”
I glared down at him.
He sheepishly ducked his head and averted his eyes.
The shameless bastard.
I should be enraged with him for potentially causing a royal rift that could tear the kingdom apart. The Queen was famous for being the coldest and most austere of Light Elves, which I’d seen for myself enough times when I went on my yearly visits. Her icy attitude could only be matched by my mother’s limitless arrogance.
Father, for some reason, had a draw with dominant women with harsh personalities. Then again, the man lacked any sort of standards. I was thirteen and had no inspirations for courting, but I knew having standards was a must with our royal status.
Despite the trouble, my anger was simmering down because I was also sensing a rare opportunity. He could spend more time with me than ever before despite all the dramatic trouble. Which would include a little human sister, who seemed unremarkable like any whore-born child.
Nonetheless, she had the royal blood of a leading Otherworlder in her, the blood of the Adventurer King, a World Wonder. Legends were born from such circumstances. At least according to the books in my library.
“Big lizard.” She pointed at me without fear.
“Her name’s Rocky,” Father said hurriedly, as if to get ahead of my irritation with a belated introduction.
“Uh huh.” I lowered my head until my eyes were leveled with Rocky’s. “I am Alexander, little sister. I’m your brother and not a lizard.”
“Alexander, big brother lizard.”
“Dragon,” I corrected. “Big brother dragon.”
“Big brother dragon lizard Alexander.” There was a mischievous glint in her eye.
She’s doing this on purpose, I realized.
I raised my head back to normal height and narrowed my eyes. Yes, indeed, this one was Father’s. She had the tendency to be annoying.
Thankfully, I had the rare part of Mother’s personality that was necessary: dignity.
I sniffed with slight disdain. “Father, this is it, right?”
“Huh?” He blinked innocently at me.
“There are no more of us, right? Just me, Prince Jasper, and … little … Rocky.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s it.”
I opened and closed my mouth, unable to come up with a response to his lack of certainty. It … shouldn’t be a problem … I hoped.
There was a formal written process designating the true heir to the Kingdom of Advenire, which had Prince Jasper chosen and recognized by the queen and council, in case the king died without making a choice. Hence, I wasn’t a prince. Nor would Rocky be. But that didn’t mean we weren’t … threats … to Prince Jasper’s claim to the throne if the process was overturned by other legalities or unbeknown rites.
Or if Father changed his feather-brained mind and asserted himself with his full weight.
I wouldn’t want to take the throne from Prince Jasper, however. We were at odds with each other at the best of times, true, but he seemed capable enough to rule a kingdom of humans and allies.
Which made part of Mother’s visit yesterday vexing when she unsubtly dropped hints that I should undermine Jasper and dominate the kingdom. What would she do if she knew there was another child of Adventurer King Jaden Soulrun?
How many could be running around with Father’s blood in them if there were more than us three?
I could imagine most people would find this scenario preposterous, especially my case. The common folk only know of dragons as terrifying creatures of tales, both fictional and real, which all had some level of legitimacy when considering the infamy of my dreadful mother. It was because of her human form and the magical laws of Uroboros, and Jaden Soulrun getting wooed by her, that my unlikely existence could be a reality.
Which meant that other Soulrun children could exist who weren’t entirely human other than Rocky. After all, there was a precedent with the Half Elf Prince and a Dragon Halfborn.
“So,” Father said, tossing his daughter onto his left shoulder while summoning his axe with a flash of golden light, “who’s ready for an adventure?”
“Really?” I blinked in surprise at him.
Father pointed his axe at the desiccated husk of the split-apart treant. “A Corrupted shouldn’t be this deep into Charmed Forest. That’s suspicious, ain’t it?”
The dryad shook her head and said words that rustled and snapped like fallen twigs on a winter day.
I thought about it and saw their point. The lands far west harbored the follies of the central people. Desecrated. Forsaken. Darkened by forever corruption – a breeding ground of unadulterated evil.
At the end of the Age of Games, the Age of Good and Evil began, and the forever war against the Corrupted West held precedence for all empires. Kings and tyrants alike worked together to hold back the corruption. An equilibrium was held where the River of Death acted as the border between allied good and pure evil. It was a dozen miles wide at its thickest portion, so it served as a decent border.
Somehow, evil had reached across the border and dispatched a trace of its wicked influence here. This was a grave issue for the Charmed Forest indeed, which meant there was a mystery to solve, an adventure to be launched …
If one were to answer the call.
I felt an eagerness fanning the flames in my chest. I dug into the loamy floor with my claws as my tail snapped to the side.
Rocky waved her little arms and kicked her little feet from Father’s shoulder as he smiled up at me. “Where I’m from, this is what we would call a tutorial. It’s a phrase used when teaching someone new to a game or activity. I know it’s ten days late after your birthday, and you’re already Level 4. But how about letting your old man take you out on your first adventure? Show you a thing or two, aye?”
“Yes,” I agreed right away, forgoing my dignified attitude.
Ever since I began reading books telling the legends of heroes and villains, I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure. To have my first while mentored by a World Wonder, the immensely accomplished Adventurer King Jaden Soulrun, was a prestige worth all the treasure in my lair. And more.
“I’m … in your care,” I said with a dip of my head, embarrassed while still excited.
“Adventure! It’s time for adventure!” Rocky cheered cutely, which I would’ve loath to acknowledge aloud.
Damn my humanity for considering such softness as adorable. How disgusting. How pitiful. Yet, I still couldn’t help myself. My new little sister was merely displaying the same eagerness burning inside my chest.
