"The cruel is never the man who slaughters the toothless for pleasure; not the man who rules with tyranny; it is on the man who refuses to part an important knowledge for the better of the world."
- 34th Chapel Master of the Piety, Monico de la Rosielle IV
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Prologue II: A deadman's rawgabbit
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Silence.
The two sat alongside each other, drinking a number of cups atop a makeshift table that sufficed for the destroyed bar isle. The young man grew impatient as he kept looking to the face of the old man who'd tell him the information he requires.
It had passed a long time already and the people at the back began their ruckus once more. The old man was not giving the young man, a heed to his actions until he spoke.
"... How about the Story..? I thought you'd tell this son of a goat, a story? Was everything you said earlier was a lie?"
There was no response.
The young man whose brows frowned upon the unexpected pause inched closer to the old man.
"I thought you're going to tell me a story that existed Five thousand years ago?"
The old man shook his head before facing the young man. "That was the case, indeed... I would've brought you the rabbit if it was as simple as it sounds... Really."
"I...- It was a-..."
"Take the vomitorium with your legs tucked in and go beyond the night. 'Tis a dangerous play you're trying to enter in, young boy. You've taken a liking to a thing that neither kings could handle without a wyrmforged ultimatum at hand." The bartender suddenly interrupted the Old man's words whilst he cleaned up the wooden bar debris.
"There's no way that Monster would be different from the first time it appeared-."
"I know how dangerous it is, forth-telling the expressive reactions you'd given to me. I could tell a thing or two." The young man interrupted the words of the bartender and looked at the old man once more. "I am more than a capable bunch to listen to some ol' gibberish."
"Hmph. You're holding a dim light to the Maker's altar, young man. I admire your adamance but it's not as easy as that..."
"Perhaps." The young man insisted. "But I require Information."
"You wouldn't leave this fine young lad be insensible of the dangers that is lurking within the world, can you? And if it is as dangerous as it sounds. Wouldn't it be better if you'd tell me what it is? The wiser you are is for the better."
A long pause succumbed between the three.
"... You've made a good ol' point. It was bitter of me, an elderly, not to tell the younger peers the dangers that round human lives..."
The young man raised his cup in relief.
"But not this one."
*Thud*
A cup fell down into the ground, spilling its contents all over the floor. All of the eyes were fixated on the young man. The waitress made her move immediately and cleaned the mess, although the young man stood to make leeway for the waitress to clean it easier, his eyes were fixated on the old man losing himself on the alcohol.
"That makes it two of us, I guess." The old man gave out a dry laugh.
"I... I thought..?"
The old man spoke deeply. "Hah. A moment to give to me, young lad..! You are asking more than this damned ol' junk more than he could fancy!"
The young man's knees gave out and sat back right to his seat, his eyes were still fixated on the old man, unflinching. He was eager to learn of the Grimayus Valley, no matter the warnings that the old man gave off. He wasn't that afraid now that he has come to a place where the Dead filled the plane.
He couldn't back down now.
Not without the necessary knowledge that might lead to an unfathomable amount of treasures or a slumbering high-ranked monstrosity that'll give a ton of experience points if slain.
He must know of this knowledge...
The Old man noticed his determination. He knew this look the most. He saw many of this determination back then, the determination that made even the outwitted soldiers into myrmidons. The willingness to fight towards the bitter end even with the little strength... Or that is what the old man sees in the eyes of the young man.
"Fine... Just this once." The old man said, exhaling deeply once again to ease his stress. "Just to be sure, young lad."
"You're not planning on venturing onwards to the Deadzone of the Grimayus Valley after this, no?"
The young man shook his head after a short pause.
"The Church prowls the area, there's no possibility of me going into the Center unless I use a Tier 3 Wind Magic to stay under their noses."
"Is that so." The old man's lips curved. Seemingly to recall good memories from the old.
"The mad lads are still on it. Keep watch, my ass. They're doing a lot more what they're told. Damnable Church Warriors, If it weren't for this creep, I'll give them a taste of this alcohol already. I have yet to thank them for saving our poor sod's asses back then."
"Tell you what, young lad. The Church's support and missionaries prevented new faces from filling the creep here and there. They're doing a fine work of the Maker."
"So. When will you tell the story?" The young man impatiently said. "The time's gold. I am sure you know what that means."
"I'd rather meet the blade of a mortal than the scythe of the devil."
"Heh, that sort you're making is golden. Young lad. Tell me more about the Church the next time you come here."
The young lad nodded as a reply. The old man gave out a deep sigh as he sat leaned towards the makeshift table, ordering an additional two cups for both of them.
"You're a drinker. I'll give you good points on that." The old man said with a slight smile. "You're a fine sort. An admirable person. You must have a lot of girls waiting at you back home, ey? Kahahaha. Knowing what's the best for you through gathering information. I wish my son would think the same way as you."
"Though I'll say, you're stupid on your own right. Not even a million of you could handle the thing beneath the Valley on your own. I recommend going by what that old shithead of a Barkeep's words- Take the vomitorium with your tail tucked in." The old man added as he ordered another cup of relish.
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"I... Is that so." The young man sighed in relief. This time, it was the utmost relief.
"... Now let me tell you the story. This has nothing to do with me even with the years to come. I've realized that and now I must make my stand as an elderly for the young."
"Young lad. Open your ears. You shall bear the heart of hearing this soul's tale."
"Thank you." The young man drank his cup in full as he prepared himself to listen to the old man.
"I've pressed you long enough, I'm afraid you won't take the gates to the day that will soon open. I regret that. I'll warp it up earlier so you can leave."
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'Twas a long time ago.
Long before the Demon Lord ascended into their Powers. Long before the Northerners sought the verdant green fields of the South- falling the land 'neath the wings of the damned. The world was at slumbering peace for the longest time; Kingdoms rose, humanity spread and their technology proceeded throughout the years of tranquility.
And at that time.
There was this, a capable lot who thought that gaining knowledge was not limited inside an indifferent room full of wizardry and alchemy. These people formed up a party with arms, rations, and willingness to travel into the far ends of the world to learn its secrets. They were the first batch of Adventurers.
The ones who founded the Guild you're at.
They had a silly name, much more of a jest than you'd fancy. I think they were called 'Fielders' back in the days? Hahaha. Ahem.
The Fielders who traveled far and wide discovered nothing but different civilizations with a tint of their own uniqueness. They were nothing special. I'll tell you.
But their perseverance to know each inch of the world had them discovered the first Dungeon
It had them reeling out of it for the first time due to the unaccounted powerful monsters that lurk within.
Their magics were crude and ineffective, so they had to rely on their ol' metal sticks to fight the beasts. There were some ferocious beasts. Sure. But they were the bravest lot. The halls of the Dungeon that beckon ill fortune did not asunder them in the least, nor they took their asses off the ground and back into the city where they fathom their lives.
Some did, but those met the scythe sooner than the latter who remained still. Well. Most. Most of them.
The remaining group sorted out the beasts one by one, with blood and casualty. The halls made them mad. Everything that bears fangs ended up becoming their meal and weapon, their blood empowered the Fielders into unyielding myrmidons who'd thirst for the golden depths of the unknown.
They didn't retreat. They pressed on into the labyrinth, fighting even with a missing limb and a scythe wriggling around their necks.
But finally, down to the last two men.
One they call, Alcatraz, he was the dullest. More of a books than a fighter. He was always at the back, throwing a giddy ball of fire that lest did deal damage to either of these monstrosities. The only thing keeping him alive was the staff he acquired from the labyrinth. It was gold, drown in fortune and gems, something that Kings of every country would covet for. It was a mighty- ridiculous staff that'd fallen even Dragons, summon forth maelstrom with just a word.
And the other sort was an unknown person, from the goons, they say... Heh. I'd love it if they knew of him more. He's the kind of guy you'd want to drink with, that for sure!
The two pressed onwards to the end. With nothing in mind except gold and timber. They thought at the end of the door they approach is a world of unowned Kingdom. Something that'd give them the crown of the World to bear.
Lest, Alcatraz and the goon met, was something out of their reach. At the end of the Labyrinth. Beyond the golden door, lies a glittering please, containing the wonders of the laud night. It has the form, perhaps, the picture of a man.
Chained with something otherworldly. It was an entity beyond the man's understanding. Alcatraz took a liking to the beauty of this 'artifact'.
They thought it was the body of a lost god. An olden deity lost in the records of men and women. Suppose, it was a mistake to call it a relic of the world. That was indeed frailty of our decision to make.
After all, we're all humans. We love greed much more than the elven.
Alcatraz broke the chains asunder with the thought of bringing it to the Kingdom as a trophy of his 'own' hard work. He wanted to covet all the glory for himself and, just to make sure that he had all the fortune, he turned towards me with his staff. The dungeon made him mad, after all. The goon couldn't blame him for that childish behavior after seeing his sweetheart torn into pieces by an ogre.
He was gone wroth with all of that stress. He is not invincible even with the power of the Deities at hand.
But he never knew the glass would wake in its slumber.
At the final moment of his magic chant. The glass grabbed ahold of his face...
And tore Alcatraz in half with its raw strength. He couldn't react in time and protect himself. It all happened in a flicker of light.
Level 500. Gone. Red filled the marble floor of the room. His body was left in that state for ages.
The goon was left in the corner, witnessing the end of his maker by the hand of the unknown. The entity took something out of Alcatraz's body as if it is devouring his soul.
The entity then took the form of Alcatraz.
His face lacked the expression of his mortal appearance. His eyes were devoid of life though his skin wasn't pale. The entity walked towards him with movements that resemble a golem- no, it looked more like a newborn humanoid learning how to walk properly. It was all unnatural for a human.
Magic surged from the palms of the entity. It was bent on killing him.
The goon... He was afraid.
Not because of the death that awaits him upfront. But the disaster that they brought into the world.
"For the sins of one must affect the world. Hark! Maker's love! What must be done to relish this entity off the plane!? To bear the mien of a fallen, the power of the dread, and the strength of a demon to each living soul it has slain. It far goes beyond the logic of men!"
Alas, with his final reminiscence and furious cursing. The fireball went-
... Onto his side and blasted the wall apart.
The goon knew it was supposed to be the death of his, though he least expected the Church coming at the right time. The Church Knights brandished their blades into the entity which caused his aim to retract.
At least, for now, the last remaining Fielder was safe. The entity, however, it wasn't dead. It was smart. But the Church thought it was slain and buried it. They left the body intact and rescued the Goon from the Labyrinth. One of them recognized by the Goon, one of the Fielders who fled before the entrance of the Labyrinth. She told everything to the Church and immediately started an expedition to conquer the Labyrinth and save the remaining Fielders from their death... Unbelievable right? There were a lot of good people back then. Haaah.
How glad was- The goon was glad at that time. That poor sod remained at peace for years till he was called for duty once more.
The Sophomore Heroes arose into power and brought down the Demon Lords, and now for the final unsung battle of them, they took the best of the best Fielders into the front and fought that entity... That happened right in the center of the Grimayus Valley. It was desolate, deserted and brown. The green that it covered was no more.
And on top of the valley was a familiar face...
Haah...
All we knew that the Fielders who stood at the front met a Bolide. Heh... We didn't manage to fight that thing head-on nor knew more of the battle.
... That was the end of all.
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"Thank you." The young man said and threw two bags worth of gems into the old man's table.
"And may I know your name?" The young man said with a smile. "I have forgotten the introductions but if by chance, I'm coming back to his place, It'd be nice to know someone's name."
"Joaquim. Joaquim Charvy. Don't ever think of coming back here in your prime. Get more girls and enjoy your life." The old man laughed as he downed a cup. "There's a lot of fine women here, but I don't think warm bodies would like them."
"... Thank you once again... And... I'd thrown much more if you'd speak more of the battle and the aftermath."
"If I could." The old man said laughingly. "But there's no way we could've survived that Bolide, no? Not to mention the Heroes at the back were useless in defending their subjects. They were nice but they're horrible with mind works if you catch my drift."
"With that level, I'm sure you could've just used all of your strength to kick out of that formation." The young man said calmly.
"Fancy that you'd think I was one of the people in the ranks. You have brains."
"I think people would know that you're telling a story of your life from the start unless it is a rawgabbit."
The old man looked astern towards the young man. "Hmph, young lad. If you're talking about a regular fireball from the stars. Then you're wrong. You shouldn't speak about things that you don't even know."
The young man stood silent and quietly left the Bar after taking a 'considerable' amount of information from the old man. The old man looked at the fleeing figure of the young man from afar.
At that moment, he saw something from his behind. It was familiar. A pleasing sight of nostalgia.
"Maybe I'm just seeing things." The Bartender said out of the blue. "Doesn't he look like you?"
"Gahaha, as expected of the Fielder's renowned Treasure Hunter. You'd see everything behind the walls."
"He'll be like me, I'm sure of it." The old man said laughingly. "That is, if he chose to align himself to his fate. It could be a cruel one."