The next two days were spent questioning Agis. What and who exactly threatened the safety of the Sunset Kingdom? How many states or sovereign nations?  Where were they? Should they be concerned about their safety? He learned the Sunset's histories of such kingdoms and city-states and the animosities that bloomed due to either sides' poor diplomatic conventions and treaties. Whether it was simply arrogance or incompetence, war eventually broke out against the Monarchia Daemonum, of the demonic races. Fortunately, it was only them. Unfortunately, they were the biggest and the baddest thing on the block. 

It left him humbled when the last war was fought and ended only ten years ago. 

When the demonic forces invaded their floor, most of their strongest forces were away dealing with a Boss level antagonist. It had caught the kingdom off-guard and in a poor situation. It was only thanks to Calastdeth, The Mystic-Necromancer, one of the Ten Immortals left behind to safeguard the kingdom, that they managed to stem the tide of the numbers, and eventually won the brief, if brutal, war.

The death toll that day was horrendous, and it would take another decade before they would be able to fully recover. And the greater cost that day was paid when Calasdeth Felidae herself gave her life to defeat one of the heroes of the Demon Queen. Having no child to speak of, her body was returned to the people of löwenmensch, or taxonomically referred to as the leomen. Lion-men, in other words.

She was buried that day, and only grief remained.  

A statue was erected a week later, to be permanently immortalized and deified within the garden square of Eén, the city's largest garden. It depicted a genial lioness standing hundred foot high, made from the ancient stones from the mountains of Theopia, and magically carved by the most talented of sculptures. It will not chip or wither, and no wind nor rain shall wear down those stones.  

Her legendary staff, the Faithful Forgotten, and most of her legendary items was gifted to the king's treasury for safe keeping. Good thing, too, since most of her equipment was taken from raids against dungeon bosses of immense quality and make. There were many who would do anything to steal such precious items. 

And yet, the years since the battle, there was peace. If not a few skirmishes here or there, at least formalized in the way of a non-aggression pact. It was signed and dotted. Then, everything went out the window, when tensions lowered to sub-zero temperatures since the arrival of Charlie, and himself.

The foreign kingdoms were worried. Perhaps retaliation? Vengeance? It wasn't as if the allies were there to help when the demons attacked. And, with the backing of Lord Ashton, the downfall of a nation was more than possible. Even against the queen demon, herself. The sacking, or annexing of a foreign power would bring a great boon to the Sunset kingdom.

It was no wonder Agis looked concerned. 

"Why didn't Charlie help? With the war, I mean," Asked Jor. 

Agis glared. "Lord Ashton didn't help, because he wasn't there," He sighed. "Also, because he refused to help in any foreign engagements. He may have helped found our country, but it doesn't mean he is tied down by it. There are far greater threats that pose problems to our floor then a few unruly nations. And the gifts he arrives with gives us a major advantage over the others." 

"Gifts?" 

"Magical weapons, crystals, fruits and monster parts of exotic variety, and plenty more have been gifted to the king and country," Agis happily smiled. "They were all from the more difficult floor, with levels far higher than our best. The quality of even one such an item would be of a legendary status, sold for millions of talis. It could make a common man rich beyond compare,"

Jor scratched the back of his neck in thought. Being rich never really occurred to him. He was from a relatively middle-class family, with both working parents. And he himself had a part-time job. Though the money can be tight sometimes, they have managed to get by even in times of crises. But to be thrust into the status of the wealthy... well, it would be interesting. He shrugged. What's money to him? He lives in a closet. 

"Well, here we are," Agis brought his attention back to the fore. It was another tree, just as large as the others, but less decorated with aesthetics and more utilitarian. What he didn't expect, was a hospital. A more general hospital for the normal people to attend to their sick and needy. The waiting area was filled with those, waiting to be called by the nurses like any other hospital he's ever been in. 

Jor blinked. "A hospital?"

"Yes, I was surprised as well," He was surprised that Agis was surprised. 

Someone was already waiting for them. 

"You must be our new patient," The woman breathed out with a gentle smile. She was a plain-faced woman, with brown hair and a mousy face. Her eyes, though, those hazels flickered like extrinsic passion detached from the world. "Thank you for bringing him along, Agis. You may run along now," 

Agis' countenance turned ugly, for just a second. Then, returned with a genial smile. "I think I will be staying here until the procedure is done. The king expects results, magus Caethwen."

She returned the smile, though Jor sensed irritation behind those eyes. "Of course. If that's the case, you may stay here in the waiting area. It will be a long day," 

The slight smirk was aggravating enough that Agis bristled under it. Jor blinked. Did they know each other? What's with the sudden animosity? The instant dislike? Jor decided to keep quiet, for now. 

She turned to face him. "Please come with me. Mr. Cunningham is waiting for you." 

"Right..., of course," Jor tapped his aide on the shoulder. "I'll be back soon. Don't worry about it, yeah?" 

Agis' lips thinned with displeasure. It was obvious his companion was concerned. "Right. Be very aware of your surroundings, Jor." 

Jor nodded and was led away from the waiting area, and toward the elevator. It was... an actual elevator. They went up. There wasn't the sound of shifting mechanics and cables being pulled. It was quiet, almost as if he were standing. Though, there wasn't any elevator music, which was a disappointment.

When the elevator opened, they were in an open area. It... was the roof, where the branches spread like spears to the cloudy skies. And there, within the thick branches ahead of the walkway, was a domed building of black glass. It was beautiful. It looked beautiful, like a small pearl hidden from the depths of people's perception. 

"Right this way," He followed her, and through the door held out for her, and him. It was an orc, glaring at him like a suspect about to steal a purse.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

It looked like the king's personal medical area, filled with magical equipment and gadgets and runic arrays carved into the shining glossy floor. The walls were no exception. And in the middle of the small hall, was a team of mages. And there, at the head of his team, was Frederick Cunningham, the head of his division. 

He smiled, as he took a step forward with a raised hand. Jor took it warily. "Ready to begin?"

"Yes." No hesitation. Going back on his word would only lose his trust. His word was important.

--

He was strapped to an operating table. Thankfully, it was comfortable. Also, fortunately, he wasn't going to get cut open as the doctor shows on tv. 

"Countdown to ten, if you will," Mr. Cunningham said, as another person turned to face him with a faint blush of spell.

"Ten. Nine. Eight...," Jor felt unfocused, sleepy. 

"You may begin." Ordered Cunningham. 

He remembered falling somewhere, then floating. He was in an omnipresent room. It seemed to go on forever. There was no end to it. Endless as the universe, expanding, growing. Like the dungeon. This was in his mind. He knew this, almost subconsciously. Jor just couldn't quite realize it.

Then, the world bled red and crimson. Fires consumed and churned like a violent storm. 

"He's going into shock. Do something, necromancer!" 

"I cannot! His spirit has rejected my intrusion."

"Give me fifty millimeters of GA!" 

"Right away!" 

"Have you at least embedded the classes, Frederick?"

"Yes, but his body can't seem to handle it. It's too weak, unprepared. Ago?"

"His spirit is barely holding on, leaking energies through like a cracked dam. His heart won't be able to take it, and his organs will fail as a result." 

"This is the preserver's chosen. We can not fail." 

There was a quiet moment of stillness.

"His spirit is burning up. Hot, like a miniature sun." 

A pregnant pause followed. 

"Open up his chest. Now!" 

"What are you doing?!" 

"What about..-!" 

"Quiet! Bring me... his heart won't be enough to take this kind of stress. I doubt it ever could," There was a moment, of what, Jor couldn't quite understand, even stuck as he was inside a raging firestorm. Burning. Burning to nothing. "Dastien. His heart is enough." 

Gasps followed. 

"He's in Stasis! If we do this, we will be killing him! We will be murderers! The king will never forgive us!"

"Yes... this is treason. But what choice do we have? Dastien's a half-celestial. His heart is beating strong, even after centuries of decay and death. But his mind is long gone. We have no other choice." 

"He's right. This child dies, we either be purged from the hands of our king. Or, the preserver comes for our heads. Choose your option. I'd take the one that leads to life."  

Jor's heart stopped. 

He died. A death befitting of a nobody, in the middle of an alien world, filled with dangerous monsters and fantastical creatures. And there, staring back into his soul, was the bird on fire. Its wings spread, as it cried in rage and vengeance like an angry God. His skin liquified, and his bones turned to ashes. His spirit popped and bubbled, and his soul ached in terror. 

"Beat. A heartbeat. Thank the gods,"

A scoff. "Don't thank the gods yet, Fred. Let's see whether the child survives this or not." 

"And Dastien?"

"Dead. Frederick, I hope you have one hell of an excuse, because if not, I'm going to haunt your afterlife for eternity." 

"I'd never thought two successful experimental procedures would have succeeded so well." 

"It shouldn't have succeeded. We have tried this before. We know this. This child has something special embedded inside his soul. Something is keeping him alive."

"Can you go in and find out?"

"I'm no fool, Fred. Its power is beyond mine," 

Jor awakened to the Phoenix, its massive form glaring down on him with the weight of a sun.

"What do you want?" He demanded, desperately. It only continued to glare at him. "What the hell do you want from me?!" 

Death. 

Rebirth. 

World. 

Wandering. 

Saṃsāra. 

Jor awoke, his eyes barely open. Everything was blurry and warm. It was getting hot. Hotter. Too hot. It felt like his dream. He felt like he was swimming in a lake of fire. It hurts. Hurts too much. So much, all the time. He couldn't stop it. But he managed the pain. He knew how, but perhaps instinctively.

He cycled the heat through his nerves and veins, his organs, his heart, and brain. It still hurt, but he managed the pain. Then, he fell unconscious. 

Someone was there with him. Was that Agis? That dark-skinned boy looking upon him with a worried expression. 

There was another. The king? 

Jor cycled the heat and fire. Then, he slept again.

Jörmungandr Shesha

Level 2 - +2

Class - N/A

Strength - 9 - 35%

Endurance - 25 - 65%

Intelligence - 9 - 32%

Willpower - 30 - --%

Vitality - 30 - --% +20

Racial Trait - The Heart of the Phoenix

Racial Trait - Regeneration of the Celestial

Perk - Meditation. 

Racial Skills - Incinerate. Level 1. - 0%