POV Narrator:
Terrified eyes line the city streets. On top of the lonely mountain, the people’s last hope resides. They’ve all heard the legends since young. The legends of a giant man capable of felling even the mightiest beasts. A man that has silently protected them all their lives. Now, only uncertainty remains in their fragile hearts.
They’ve never seen him personally. The king has only told tales about him. The uncertainty only grows stronger in their hearts. Does he really exist? If he does, is he strong enough to stop this calamity? Their bodies are upright, paralyzed with fear. As the giant ball of fire draws closer, their minuscule amount of hope only grows dimmer.
On the balcony leading out of the throne room, Dawkin and his wife stands. Steadily, she supports Dawkin. “Is Zohn strong enough to save us? I’ve only heard about him through your wonderful tales, but from what you describe, I fail to believe that there’s any being stronger than him. The immense power that he wields would surely be enough, right?” Dawkin’s wife asks, her tone turning increasingly desperate with each consecutive word.
Dawkin turns his head towards the mountain peak, his eyes start shining with hope. He can feel it, the power that Zohn is gathering. “Don’t worry, Zohn is preparing to attack the ball of fire, I can feel his power in the air,” Dawkin reassures his wife. “This shows that he has some confidence in stopping the calamity. So, we only need to…” Dawkin, while reassuring his wife, starts trailing off.
The unprecedented power that he just felt from Zohn has vanished completely. The ball of fire is still approaching, seemingly unaffected. “Has Zohn’s attack failed? Has he given up?” Dawkin contemplates desperately, his thought turning grimmer with each second. He quickly turns towards his wife’s hopeful face, uncertain on what he should tell her.
Suddenly, a loud voice resounds throughout the sky. This sound completely breaks Dawkin’s train of thought. Confusion fills his mind. Dawkin quickly turns and looks towards the mountain. Suddenly, an explosive sound radiates from the lonely mountain and Dawkin’s eyes widen. Clearly visible to the naked eye, a giant web of cracks begins to spread throughout the upper half of the lonely mountain.
“Not even the mountain can resist this calamity. Is this truly the day that my people die?” In a low voice, Dawkin mutters subconsciously. An invincible mountain, an entity piercing through the sky, start crumbling before his shocked eyes.
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Dust fills the sky, obscuring everyone’s vision of the mountain. Piece by piece, the lonely mountain, standing over ten kilometres tall, starts breaking apart. Pieces of stone start littering the flat landscape surrounding the lonely mountain, some are large enough to be classified as small hills. Luckily, the city is distant enough to avoid any serious damage.
With every piece that impacts, the ground shakes and trembles. To the people in the city, doomsday has arrived. They can only stare lifelessly, knowing that their only hope has failed. Some, close their eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Others hug their loved ones. Upon the palace balcony, Dawkin hugs his wife, a tear dripping from his wrinkled old face.
One second turns into ten. The sounds of rocks impacting the ground grows sparser. Ten seconds turns into thirty. The sounds of the impacts stop. Thirty seconds turns into a minute. Dawkin stares into his wife’s teary eyes, unwilling to part from her gaze. A loud explosive force shakes the city, knocking people over. Dawkin sucks in a deep breath, knowing what’s to come, but his eye’s do not wander. For Dawkin, time seems to stop.
A deathly silence grips the city. A minute turns into two. Each passing second, more excruciating than the last. Yet, the city still stands. Confusion fills Dawkin’s mind. “Why haven’t we perished?” he asks himself. Still, his gaze does not wander. The silence breaks as shocked cries fill the streets. In unison, he and his wife turns and looks towards the source of the cries.
In the streets, with shocked eyes, the people stare and point towards the half-crumbled mountain. Quickly, Dawkin turns his gaze towards the mountain and his eyes immediately widen. His usually composed wife lets out a deep gasp. Bewilderment fills every piece of Dawkin’s body.
In the distance, standing on a half-crumbled mountain, a giant humanoid figure looms. The dust still obscures any specific details. Slowly, the dust starts to settle, and the figure becomes increasingly visible. “What is that thing!?” Dawkin exclaims in shock. “Have you seen anything like it before? Maybe in your travels?” His wife asks, equally confused.
“If my old eyes aren’t failing me, then this person is giant,” Dawkin speaks. “Like Zohn?” His wife asks quickly, the sudden turn of events clouding her mind. “Larger… Much larger.” Dawkin responds in a low voice. “How much larger?” His wife asks again, still dazed. “Zohn was about three times my size, approximately five meters tall. This person is much taller.” Dawkin responds, his gaze still fixed on the figure’s outline.
“If I go by my rough estimate, this person is at least a couple hundred meters tall… at a minimum.” Dawkin continues, his tone turning increasingly serious. “Has it always been there?” His wife asks, afraid of the answer. “I don’t know. I can’t help but feel like we’re only spectators to a bigger conspiracy.” Dawkin answers, still shocked and confused by these series of events.
“All that I know is, that person saved us. Furthermore, I have a strong feeling that he holds the answers to our questions.” Dawkin continues, his eyes still trying to pierce through to cloud of dust surrounding the giant figure.