**Chapter 2: The Forest’s Call**
Azaryon stood alone in the vast, mystical forest. The soft whispers of the wind echoed around him, the leaves shimmering with faint light in response to his presence. He felt an energy in the air, something far more alive and vibrant than anything he had experienced in his old world.
His mind was still spinning with the words of the Forest Deity: **Dragon God’s blood**, **Draconic Eye**, and **a kingdom united by peace**. It all seemed impossible, yet here he was, standing in a place that defied all logic and reason. His fingers flexed unconsciously, still tingling from the awakening of his newfound power.
Azaryon gazed at his hands, feeling the weight of responsibility press down on him. The Deity had given him a name, a purpose, but he still didn’t understand how he could accomplish such a monumental task.
“A kingdom…? What do I even know about leading?” he murmured, shaking his head.
But as the doubt settled in his chest, a warm sensation flickered through his body—an ember of confidence. His vision shifted once more, his **Draconic Eye** activating involuntarily. The world around him sharpened again, every detail, every movement of the forest now crystal clear. He could see faint threads of magic weaving through the trees, almost as if the entire forest was alive and connected by invisible energy.
He knelt down, brushing his hand against the soft moss. His fingers tingled, as if the very earth was pulsing with life. The Forest Deity had said this place was sacred, a land filled with magic. Perhaps, in time, it could become the foundation of the nation he was meant to build.
Azaryon rose to his feet and took a deep breath, feeling the magic in the air invigorating him. The Deity had told him his purpose, but it hadn’t told him how to achieve it. He needed to understand this world—its people, its dangers, and its opportunities.
“First things first,” he muttered. “I need to get a sense of where I am.”
He began walking, his Draconic Eye flickering as it instinctively scanned the environment. The forest stretched endlessly in all directions, but there was something about the way the trees grew—almost as if they were subtly guiding him down a particular path. His instincts told him to follow.
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After what felt like hours of walking, the dense trees began to thin. A faint glow appeared in the distance, the warm orange hue of a fire flickering between the branches. Azaryon slowed his pace, his body tensing instinctively. He had no idea what kind of creatures lived in this world, but if he was going to survive, he would need to be cautious.
He crouched low, moving quietly through the underbrush, his eyes narrowing as he approached the source of the light. As he drew closer, he saw a small clearing, where a fire crackled warmly in the center. Around the fire sat a group of figures—humanoid, but not human.
Beastmen.
They were larger than humans, their bodies covered in thick fur, with sharp claws and animal-like features. Their eyes glowed faintly in the firelight, and their low, guttural voices carried through the night air.
Azaryon watched them carefully, his Draconic Eye analyzing their movements, their behavior. They didn’t seem hostile, but they were clearly on edge, their ears twitching at every sound, their noses sniffing the air as if they sensed something was off.
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Suddenly, one of the beastmen—a massive figure with a lion’s mane—stood up, his muscles rippling beneath his fur as he turned toward the forest.
“We’re being watched,” the beastman growled, his voice deep and rumbling.
Azaryon froze, his heart pounding. He wasn’t ready for a fight—not yet. But before he could retreat, the beastman’s gaze locked onto him, his glowing eyes narrowing.
“Show yourself, human,” the beastman snarled. “We can smell you.”
Azaryon clenched his fists, his mind racing. He had no idea what the beastmen were capable of, but there was no point in hiding now. He stepped forward, emerging from the shadows with his hands raised, trying to appear non-threatening.
“I don’t mean any harm,” Azaryon said calmly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “I’m just… lost.”
The beastmen eyed him suspiciously, their claws flexing as they sized him up. The lion-man stepped closer, towering over Azaryon with a menacing snarl.
“Lost?” he growled. “No human wanders into these woods by accident. What’s your purpose here?”
Azaryon met the beastman’s gaze, his Draconic Eye activating once more. He could see the subtle shifts in the beastman’s stance, the tension in his muscles. The beastman wasn’t just angry—he was scared. Something had happened to put these creatures on edge.
“I’m not from around here,” Azaryon replied, choosing his words carefully. “I just woke up in this forest, and I’m trying to figure out where I am. I don’t want any trouble.”
The lion-man’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, but before he could respond, one of the other beastmen—an older, wolf-like figure—spoke up.
“Wait,” the wolfman rasped, his voice rough with age. “Look at his eyes.”
The lion-man frowned, glancing back at Azaryon’s face. His eyes widened slightly as he saw the faint glow of the Draconic Eye, a symbol of power that even the beastmen recognized.
“That’s… no ordinary human,” the wolfman murmured, stepping closer. “He has the mark of the dragons.”
Azaryon’s heart skipped a beat. The beastmen knew about the dragons? Did they understand his power?
The lion-man hesitated, his anger fading into cautious respect. “You… have dragon blood?”
Azaryon nodded slowly, realizing that the Draconic Eye had already begun to alter the way others saw him. “So it seems. But I’m still learning what that means.”
The beastmen exchanged glances, their hostility ebbing away. The lion-man stepped back, lowering his claws. “If you truly carry the blood of the dragons, then you are no enemy to us. The dragons once protected our kind.”
Azaryon blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in their demeanor. He hadn’t expected the beastmen to view him as an ally. But if they respected the dragons, perhaps this could work to his advantage.
“I don’t know much about the dragons,” Azaryon admitted. “But I want to understand this world. I want to help unite the races, to end the division and hatred between us.”
The lion-man’s eyes softened, though his expression remained cautious. “A noble goal. But you’ll find no easy path ahead. The kingdoms beyond this forest are filled with those who hate and fear anything different. They will not welcome your vision of unity.”
Azaryon smiled grimly. “I didn’t expect it to be easy.”
The wolfman stepped forward, his weathered face creased with thought. “You may be our best hope, human. If you truly seek peace, then you must be prepared to fight for it. Darkness has already spread across the lands, and even now, the Ruler of the Night gathers power in the shadows.”
Azaryon’s pulse quickened at the mention of the Ruler of the Night. The Forest Deity had warned him about this mysterious figure, and now it seemed the beastmen knew of him too.
“Tell me more about this Ruler,” Azaryon said, his voice low and serious.
The beastmen’s expressions darkened. The wolfman spoke softly, his voice laced with fear. “He is a master of the night, a being of immense power who manipulates from the shadows. No one has seen his true form, but his influence is everywhere. His agents sow chaos, and his generals carry out his will. We have felt his presence in the forest, and it is only a matter of time before he strikes.”
Azaryon nodded, his resolve hardening. “Then I will stop him.”
The lion-man let out a low growl of approval. “You have strength, human. If you are serious about your quest, then we will aid you. But know this—your journey will not be without bloodshed.”
Azaryon’s gaze was firm, his Draconic Eye blazing with determination. “I’ll do whatever it takes to unite this world. No matter the cost.”
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*End of Chapter 2*