[GHS.] SOMETHING SACRED

This is a story about humans and animals,

In the same way a story may be about dogs and animals, cats and animals, fish and animals, bugs and animals, or birds and animals.

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Snow.

All Sacrosanct could see for a million paces was snow — or were they clouds? The two began to merge at the boundaries of his sight as he stood at the peak of a national mountain. It must’ve been the tallest in town — or at least the top five.

It was a scenic landscape. A blank canvas accentuated by the unoften protrusions of mountain peaks. No trees, no birds, no plants, no animals. Only stone and snow. It was the type of serenity the usually outgoing Sacrosanct couldn’t help but be entranced by. It was an infectious zen.

He had never been this high up in the sky before — never above the clouds. Perhaps this was how the Goddess and the demon God viewed the world — or once viewed it, anyway. Blinding. Both the light that reflected off the white, and the clouds that obscured the sight. It was blinding to be a god.

The hero somehow felt that the mountain seemed familiar. If the nature of the monument was anything to go by — its dramatic shape as if it had received an earth-shattering blow against its side — this must’ve been New Amstangrad. The home of the humans.

“...Now how the hell do I get down from here?”

Before the blistering cold could begin to seep into his skin, Sacrosanct quickly activated his talent to keep himself warm. He hated the cold more than anything else, and it’d been terrible to arrive at the castle cold-ridden. The hero first began to move himself around, gaining momentum and tempo. It would be important to keep conscious amidst the blinding snow and to not fall asleep. Thankfully, it was he who found himself mysteriously atop a mountain and not anyone else.

Before he knew it, his body already began to warm up, then in an instant, his body was lit ablaze by his internal ‘passion’.

Now that he was warm and alive, he could finally begin critically processing the information he was given. Two main aspects of his current situation bothered him:

Firstly, he felt a bit younger, by around 4 or 5 years. Perhaps something had healed him from his injuries over the years, and his joints felt better than ever. The massive scar on his back stayed intact though, but then again, it was almost a part of his identity now anyways. This was one of the greatest consequences of being in the hero ‘business’; the deterioration of the body.

Day in and day out, he always worked his muscles off his bones. It must’ve been especially difficult compared to other historic heroes as he was a hero in a newly built nation under a new King. But then again, that King was his friend, June, so perhaps he had it better than he thought.

A core memory of his was when June celebrated Wundermastenn for the first time as a King. It had been an especially long and difficult year, as she rebuilt the nation from its core with the help of neighbouring kingdoms. The winter season was the only time she could relax and celebrate their achievements.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Sacrosanct still remembered her face when the mountain of presents for her was unveiled on the day of Wundermastenn. As a former thief, she must’ve never seen so many valuable items — for her to legally own. However, it was not about the value of the gifts, nor their quality or quantity. The true Wundermastenn gift was the love that June now knew she received. She no longer had to steal in the cold, unforgiving streets of Amstangrad, but now celebrated in the warm company of others, and worked to build a nation in which no one would ever have to suffer as she did.

Cold. Warm. It is vital for all creatures to be together, but sometimes, people need to be away and alone from each other. This was the first time in a while that he had the leisure to reminisce about the past. This was the first time in a while that he was alone. Alone with his thoughts. In the company of nothing but snow, Sacrosanct could finally see how much he had changed on the inside over these last few years, but on the outside, he was not much different. In the end, he was still an elf named Sacrosanct, and probably not the only one.

Secondly… why was he atop a mountain? The last memory he could conjure was of the time when he battled his greatest foe, the demon lord… Baroque — that was his name. Though to be completely honest, his true greatest foe was the old Amstangrad.

The hero supposed that the demon lord was a sort of manifestation of Amstangrad. Its fascistic qualities inspired Baroque and many others. It was a sort of intrinsic genetic disease in all sentient life, though there were many such things. Sacrosanct believed that the human evils — greed, lust, pride and such — were not human evils. Rather, they were universal evils shared by all sentient life forms. He knew best as an elf.

He believed that if dogs were smart enough, with enough time, they would also create a fascist nation. The real question would be how long they would last, and how large of an impact it would make.

It was just that kind of world. A world that encouraged dogs to eat dogs, and humans to eat humans. None were any different. Given weapons, life will kill.

And given a weapon he was. Sacrosanct had one of the greatest weapons of them all. A talent originating from the heavens, granted by the Goddess.

On that Wundermastenn day, June too was given a gift. An extraordinary gift from the kingdom of Sonosis. A weapon of mass destruction.

At the corner of his eye, he spotted a white rabbit, cleverly hiding amidst the winter snow. From the look of things, it would take hours to hike down the mountains, and like all animals, Sacrosanct had to eat somehow.

“...Well, sorry, little guy,” said Sacrosanct, “I need to return to New Amstangrad as soon as possible!”

Return to New Amstangrad… Sacrosanct had said so as if it was his second nature, but he remembered his promise to June, to never look back. He would return to his home in Championnat, and he’d reunite with his dear friend if fate willed it so.

Sacrosanct wondered if June had any plans to use the weapon, as he aimed his finger to blast it with a fire spell.

In a single moment, the heat travelled through the air, the intensity of the passion transforming all air in the way to plasma. The surrounding area became blinding as the white snow reflected the shining fireball. It was like a shooting star or a meteorite, travelling and lighting up the sky until it met its target.

However, as Sacrosanct walked to retrieve the body of the rabbit before it burned too much, the snow atop the mountain began crumbling as an avalanche began.

“Woah?!”

It seemed that a single spell was all it took to destabilize the carefully stacked snow, and soon, the hero was swept away in a torrent of white, sending him away again into another place, another time.