The giant wooden being slowly stirred, its ancient moss-covered eyes finally opening. The sound of creaking wood echoed through the vast, dark cave as the creature stretched its massive limbs. Its joints groaned as they moved, causing bits of moss and dirt to shake loose and fall to the ground below.
The being was an ancient creature, one of the last of its kind, known only as the “Forest King". It had slumbered for centuries, its wooden body merging with the stone and earth around it, becoming one with the very essence of the cave.
But something had disturbed its rest, dared to rouse it from its slumber. The Guardian's moss-covered eyes narrowed as it surveyed its surroundings, taking in every detail of the cavernous chamber.
The cave was vast and dark, with jagged stalactites hanging from the ceiling and stalagmites rising from the ground like dark, twisted fingers. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and stale air, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the chamber like a mournful dirge.
As if in answer to its curiosity, a translucent blue screen suddenly popped up in front of it.
The god, %#$@^& has requested a task from you. Will you accept?
The creature's eyes widened in shock, its massive body trembling with awe and reverence as it realized the full extent of what had just transpired. For it had been chosen by a god - no, not just any god, but the very one who had given it life and imbued it with its formidable power. How could it do anything other than obey?
As it opened my mouth, the muscles in its throat tightened and the air inside it shifted. A deep rumbling growl echoed from within, barely resembling words. But despite the difficulty, it managed to form the sound that would signify its agreement.
"I..." it began, its voice rough and gravelly. "Accept."
The words left its lips like the roar of thunder, causing the ground beneath it to tremble slightly. It watched as the translucent blue screen before it changed, shifting from a single line to a paragraph filled with text.
Its eyes narrowed as it scanned the words, trying to make sense of the jumbled letters and symbols that seemed to dance before it. But with each passing moment, the text became clearer and more understandable, until finally, it grasped the full meaning of what was written.
A human has dared anger the god, %#$@^&. He is a representative of the god, *@&$&$, and is currently out to kill you. However, he is still very weak. Your patron god desires for you to personally move and kill this insolent mortal. Upon doing so, you shall be granted an extra 2% of
The creature was initially unnerved when it got to know the target this time was a representative of another god, but as soon as its eyes fell on the reward, the fact that its
Not only killing a god’s representative, it would jump through the nine layers of hell repeatedly if it meant even just a passing chance of getting more of the bloodline.
“Under…. stoood,” it growled, and the translucent blue screen flickered.
Suddenly, the being felt a strand of information entering its mind. The Forest King felt a surge of excitement. Not because it had received the information- it could find the human on its own anyway. Well, it was not like it didn’t appreciate the information either; it’s not like it wanted to waste energy, and it did appreciate the gods making its task easier. Either way, it could pinpoint the exact location of the human with ease now.
It could already picture the scene in its mind's eye: it would quickly kill the human, and then get the
The screen closed, and the beast took a moment to savor the potential power it could wield. But it did not dilly dally for long. It was time to get to work and snatch that
Slowly, painfully, the Forest King began to stir. Its muscles, long unused, creaked and groaned as it shifted its weight. Its limbs, once thick and powerful, had atrophied over the centuries, and as it rose to its full height, the very floor of the cave cracked and crumbled beneath its feet.
But it did not care. It was beyond such mundane concerns as pain or discomfort. All that mattered was the task that lay before it, the mission that it had been created to fulfill.
As it rose, the moss that had grown thick and dense around it began to tear and break apart. For so long it had confined itself, trapped itself within this tiny space, unable to move or act or even think because of that damned mortal that was supposed to be its ‘sibling’. But now, finally, it could move. Once it got that extra two percent, that wretched concubine’s son, that bastard who called himself Demise… he would have what’s coming for him.
And as it gazed out into the darkness beyond the cave, it knew that it's time had come. The world outside was waiting for it, and it would not disappoint. It was a creature of immense power, a being beyond mortal reckoning, and it was ready to reclaim its rightful place in the world.
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The king of the forest had started moving once more, after nearly ten years.
*
Achylys was a man of few words, or at least he’d like to believe so— researchers were only cool when they were deep and contemplative, like how he was right now. But he digressed. His eyes spoke volumes as he stared at the big white thread in front of him. It was like he was gazing upon a tapestry woven by the gods themselves, a masterpiece that captured every intricate detail of the king of the forest. The thread seemed to shimmer in the light, its white color almost blinding in its purity.
It had taken Achylys nearly an hour to track down this particular thread, but the effort was worth it. For within its fibrous strands lay the secrets of the forest's most powerful ruler. The thread revealed every aspect of the king's being, from the tiniest of details like the number of hairs on its wooden body, to the grander parts of its life, like the Thunder Massacre it committed three hundred years ago, the stance the major kingdoms had against it, the various warriors who’d attacked it…
As he stared at the thread, Achylys couldn't help but be intrigued by the level of detail captured within its threads. It was as if the thread was alive, pulsating with the energy of the forest itself. He could feel the power of the king of the forest emanating from its very fibers.
But along with the king’s power, the thread detailed its weaknesses too. And boy, the weaknesses were the good stuff, juicy and thick. Yes, he was talking about the Forest King’s weaknesses, not a fruit. Also, get your mind out of the gutter, it’s about a fruit, not… something else. The translucent blue screen that flickered in front of the white thread, courtesy of the system to help him explore the threads more easily, displayed,
Major weaknesses:
The forest king, despite its formidable powers and abilities, possesses a weakness that seems almost comical in its specificity. The entity in question is deathly afraid of water.
Throughout its long existence, this being has had only two close brushes with mortality. In both instances, water was the culprit. The mere touch of water brings about unimaginable agony for the creature, due to a complex web of curses and weaknesses that have plagued it since its creation.
First among these are the twenty curses of the god-blessed heroes. These curses, laid upon the being in a fit of divine pique, were meant to ensure that the creature would never find true happiness or fulfillment. One of these curses, the curse of water, has proven to be particularly potent. Any contact with water brings about intense pain and suffering for the creature, rendering it helpless and vulnerable.
But the curses of the heroes are not the only afflictions that plague this unfortunate being. There is also the one curse of the Water Saint, a powerful enchantment that was laid upon it during a long-ago battle. This curse magnifies the being's innate weakness to water, making even the slightest contact with the substance a source of agony and torment.
And then there is the being's own innate weakness, a quirk of its creation that has proven to be its undoing time and time again. For reasons known only to the gods themselves, this creature was made with a fundamental vulnerability to water. Perhaps it was meant to serve as a warning to others, a testament to the capriciousness of divine creation.
Whatever the reason, this being's weakness is a fact of its existence that it can never escape. No matter how powerful or mighty it may become, water will always be its greatest adversary, a constant source of pain and suffering. It is a strange and tragic fate for such a magnificent being, but such is the way of the world in which we live.
This creature's right knee is its Achilles' heel, a weak point that has the power to bring it to its knees, quite literally.
It is said that a malice bug, a vile and insidious creature that delights in causing harm and destruction, had once burrowed itself deep into the flesh and sinew of the creature's leg when it was but a youngling. Though the creature was able to rid itself of the pestilential bug, it was unable to fully undo the damage that it had wrought.
And so it is that any damage inflicted upon the creature's knee is amplified, its effects multiplied fourfold. A mere scratch, a minor abrasion, can become a crippling wound in the blink of an eye. This weakness, this vulnerability, is a reminder that even the mightiest of beings can be brought low by the smallest of things.
It is said that the king had a crush once, a love that was doomed to failure from the start.
The object of the king's affections was known as Woody thirty five, a member of the thunder wood tribe. The tribe believed that the longer and larger a being was, the greater their fertility, and Woody thirty five was among the largest and most robust of their kind. But alas, the king was not so blessed in size and girth, and his proposal of love was cruelly rejected.
The rejection was a blow to the king's ego, but worse was to come. For anyone who dared to mention Woody thirty five's name, or the painful memory of the king's unrequited love, risked incurring the wrath of the forest monarch. Indeed, those who pressed too hard on this sensitive topic could find themselves facing the full fury of the king's temper.
The king's anger was not to be taken lightly. Due to his rage that never quite lessened, the king ordered the annihilation of his tribe as soon as he gained enough power, a brutal act that left many in the forest shaking with fear. Even to this day, the memory of the king's outburst is a potent reminder of the price that can be paid for invoking his anger.
The forest king once went by the name 'Shorty'. It was an apt moniker, given that this creature was lean and of slight stature, unlike the towering beasts that roamed the land. Among the tribe, Shorty was the first to receive such a title, a title without a number.
However, as time passed, Shorty grew to become stronger, and with this newfound status it made a new name for itself: 'King of the Forest'. No longer would it be known as the diminutive figure it once was, but rather as a grand and imposing ruler.
Yet despite its great strength, the King of the Forest harbored a deep-seated insecurity about its past. It was ashamed of its former name, and so it eradicated any trace of it from the records and the memories of the tribe, along with the tribe themselves. The mere mention of 'Shorty' would send the King into a fit of rage, for it saw the name as a symbol of its former weakness.
In summary, as deadly as its physical weaknesses are, its greatest ones are its emotional weaknesses. So use them well, Host.
[EXPAND] into minor weaknesses?