Gaz’Ruk glanced at his fallen allies and wept a single tear of sorrow before returning all his attention to his foe.

The enemy has come in greatest numbers yet, and he had feared for what would happen if they fell in this cavern. The others would be barely protected, so he must be the one to protect them instead.

An arrow narrowly missed him, rousing the air nearby instead, and Gaz’Ruk lunged at his opponent with his blade. They appeared equal in skill to him, but the same could not be said for Gaz’Ruk’s own group.

He feared he would be outnumbered, and tried to make any sort of plan as he moved his left leg just out of the way of his enemy’s blade.

Gaz’Ruk was already cut and bleeding from one side and glanced away to see if Grrrg was nearby, but couldn’t find him. A blade came down on him and he was forced to block it with his own, metal clashing against metal as the sounds didn’t die down for a while.

He could hear grunting and screaming and yelling all around, his men either fighting or dying or both.

Grrrg was either supposed to fight or help, but he was nowhere to be found. Gaz’Ruk sighed in his thoughts and continued onwards.

By a stroke of luck and his enemy’s carelessness, Gaz’Ruk managed to find an opening in his defences and shove his blade as deep as he could. The foe yelped in pain and briefly held on to Gaz’Ruk’s sword before he pulled it out.

He watched as blood started running down the enemy’s armour but couldn’t afford to spare time idling.

By that time, most of his men were not in a condition to fight, and there were still three enemies on the other side of the cavern.

That wasn’t right. He was sure there was another one nearby. He turned back and saw another enemy lean forward, probably looking at something. He couldn’t get a decent view but went for him regardless. If there was one of his men down, he had to make sure to save at least him.

He rushed forward and could now see Grrrg splayed down, covered in blood and with an arrow in his back. The enemy was just about to stab him, and Gaz’Ruk tried to help by putting his sword between the two.

At that moment, Grrrg’s body glowed red and both of them fell to their knees. The air felt heavy, Gaz’Ruk struggling to breathe.

His eyes locked on Grrrg as the lanky man slowly stood up, as if without a care in the world. He traced the arrow on his back, still facing away from Gaz’Ruk, then broke the arrow off and pulled the halves out.

Grrrg then turned towards their enemy and Gaz’Ruk could see that his eyes were glowing bright red.

Grrrg picked up Gaz’Ruk’s sword, then deftly sliced at the human in front of him, who was at that moment staggered.

Blood poured out of the human’s neck where his head used to be and the lifeless body thumped down loudly as Gaz’Ruk’s eyes went back towards Grrrg.

Whatever he did, this seemed like a completely different person.

The heavy air around Gaz’Ruk slowly glowed bright and he could feel his pain alleviate and his bleeding slowly stopped to a halt. He felt rested and ready to fight again, even somehow eager to do so.

Grrrg dropped Gaz’Ruk’s blade and he picked it up energetically, looking towards the three remaining humans who were staring at the scene in shock and fatigue.

He charged them and was confusingly faster than he used to be, his legs lighter and his breaths shorter as he pulled his sword to sweep at the first enemy in range.

His eyes caught Grrrg slowly moving towards one other human with a sword in hand, slowly watching as the enemy stumbled into a fighting stance of sorts.

Gaz’Ruk’s blade cut deep into the enemy who seemed too terrified to even move properly in response.

He wasn’t sure what was going on of what Grrrg did, or if this was even him, but he was thankful.

He watched as Grrrg, one eye glowing red and the other looking just like a gash on his face through which the same light emanated, slowly went up towards the human, shoved the enemy’s sword out of the way and pierced his own squarely in the stomach, grinning all the while.

Gaz’Ruk looked around, but couldn’t find anyone else, the coward probably running off in the meantime.

He looked at his injured men, then back at revitalized Grrrg as the latter slowly moved around the battlefield and healed the ones that were still alive. It didn’t look like enough to save them completely, but it must mean they still had a chance.

They had won, and Gaz’Ruk audibly cheered. Grrrg turned towards him, the air around them thinned, his eyes stopped glowing, and he dropped down like a doll on the ground.

Gaz’Ruk rushed towards him and checked to see if he was still breathing, then sighed in relief as he felt slow breaths from the chest of the young man.

Kr’thra was right like she always was, the man was a mystery. And he wanted to keep the mystery on his side.

----------------------------------------

The Dungeon at Skull Mount was both pleased and horrified. Pleased with the result and horrified of how it came to be.

The enemies were mostly defeated and it would seem they won’t manage to advance towards any of the cores, which was a good thing. However, there was something different about one of the caverns.

The mana inside it felt wrong. The Dungeon knew what kind of mana it could produce and supply the residents with, but this energy was all sorts of different.

The sudden surge of mana in one cavern was completely unnatural and uncontrolled and caused the Dungeon to focus all its attention towards it.

The energy seemed to radiate from one of the fleshbags, and it was almost sure it was not an invader. The controlling mark on its skin seemed to fight against the energy, and the Dungeon could feel the energy fighting back.

Then, it was over just as quickly as it started. The energy was gone, there was only a trace of mana left that was slowly dissipating around the cavern, and the fleshbag seemed just like before.

The Dungeon could feel it still held on to the fleshbag with its mark, but something like that had never happened before. It was unsure of what to make of it, but it was certain it had to now keep some focus on that particular fleshbag as well.

If it turned out that there was a threat coming from that energy like before, the fleshbag would have to be disposed of. And it was a simple task of letting go of the mark. The traps would probably do the rest shortly.

But for now, the fleshbag should be studied. It seemed much more powerful than the rest, of course not as powerful as the Dungeon itself as that would be a silly thought to anyone, but it would have to be kept under watch.

Letting go its attention at the peculiar fleshbag, the Dungeon looked towards the camp of invaders that were outside the main entrance.

Stolen story; please report.

It was unsure, but it had a bad feeling of what was soon to happen. And there always had to be consequences when a Dungeon was threatened.

----------------------------------------

George woke up with a scream. He grasped at his face and tried to feel what had happened to the right side of it. Then he noticed he was no longer in the cave.

He was pretty certain he was fighting, or losing a fight, in a cavern. What he was looking at was an open field with weapons and bodies strewn about.

It looked like a much bigger battlefield than the one he left.

He got up on his feet and looked around. The bodies of people looked unmoving, dreadful but peaceful in a way. He then just noticed that the sky was red. Even though it wasn’t supposed to be that colour, he still cheered at this place having a sky.

He saw something shaped like a large chair, or a throne possibly, a bit farther away, and decided to go towards it. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt he needed to go there.

As he walked, he could see that there were two people in front of him, a man sitting on the throne and a woman leaning on one of its sides.

He chuckled when he saw the woman. He couldn’t see her face properly yet but did see that she wore a revealing white dress that fluttered in the wind George couldn’t actually feel.

He still walked forward, the people in front of him coming into more of a focus.

The woman’s face was… perfect, in his mind. There didn’t seem to be a flaw. It wasn’t particularly beautiful as it was flawless and unnervingly symmetrical, but that didn’t lower her attractiveness.

The man that was sitting on the throne was the epitome of what people imagined a Spartan would look like. Almost stark naked with perfect muscles and skin that seemed to shimmer from sweat and/or oil, with a helmet that covered his face well enough so George couldn’t see any features except for the eyes that glowed red.

The only piece of apparel he wore on his body was a skirt that went down halfway his large thighs.

George knew Gaz’Ruk was a warrior, but this was A warrior.

The two people didn’t seem to make any movements or speak, just watched him as he slowly walked towards the throne. George stopped at an arbitrary distance, one that seemed just close enough but not too close for comfort. His comfort, that is.

The woman was the one that spoke first.

“Welcome, George. It is nice to finally meet you,” she said in a gentle, loving voice while smiling at him innocently.

She then turned towards the warrior. “I told you he was different. Do you believe me now?”

The man didn’t answer in any way, only moving his head slightly, and George felt uncomfortable, like he was being inspected.

“Hmpf,” the sound that came out of the helmet was more than audible, in fact, it seemed to resonate throughout the entire field. “He’s weak.”

He stood up and slowly walked towards George, the red glowing eyes aimed directly at his face. George had felt small before, but this was on a completely different scale.

The man circled slowly around George as George tried not to focus on anything in particular and tried to stand as tall as possible. He was still shorter than the man, but not by much, but there was a definite difference considering the man looked like straight out of an advertisement for underwear.

He pushed George slightly on the shoulder and George almost lost his balance, staggering back to his feet.

The man turned towards the woman, and just repeated what he said before. “Weak”.

The woman shrugged and laughed it off. “Hey, he was the one that decided to bind himself to great Keroteon, God of War, Victory, and Bloodbaths.”

“It’s just War, Semira, and you know that. The mortals have just lost their way in what that’s supposed to mean. And I don’t lose.” He sounded like he gritted the last part out of his teeth.

George tried to keep his focus, but this was both horrifying and funny. He had not forgotten what was going on just a few minutes before when he was in a cave, but now he was apparently meeting Gods.

He wondered how he managed to do that and if the book had decided to actually work.

He glanced at the man. If this was the God of War, that must mean that whatever the book picked up on when it said the Domain seemed to be chosen, this was it. This man was a personification of War, through and through.

The woman came up to George, while the man went back towards the throne.

“You’d have to forgive Keroteon, he was never big on manners or introduction,” she spoke softly, and George couldn’t help but be calm.

“I am Semira, and some mortals like to call me the Goddess of Life. Now, I know your name, George, and I can tell that you come from far away, but I cannot see anything else about you. You are… too mysterious for a mortal.”

She turned towards the War God. “I think you will like him, really. He seems to like you.”

George wondered if she had read his mind and tried his best to contain any thoughts he had at the moment.

“Now then, you must be wondering why you are here,” she said and pointed at the field around them. “When you first got in that Dungeon, I had sent you one of the arcane books.”

George was surprised. Why was he that important that she would help him personally? He didn’t actually voice this concern, as the book had already prolonged his life so far, so all he had to be was be thankful for it.

“T-thank you,” he stammered, unsure of what to say in front of two Deities.

“But, since you do not seem bound to any God or Goddess, I have decided to leave that to be your own choice.”

What the Goddess was talking made some sense in a weird way, but was long from giving a proper explanation into what exactly was going on.

Suddenly the man went back towards him again and got right in front of his face. That close, George could spot some of the rough skin that the helmet didn’t cover, and he could distinctly see the glowing eyes.

The God stared directly at him for a while, then simply asked him, “what is a war to you, boy?”

George gulped. Was this a part of a test? He glanced towards the woman, who sighed and looked away, and wished he knew what she was thinking as if that would help his situation.

The God still stared at him intensely, and George wasn’t that used to men staring him down.

He thought long about the simple question he was asked. George thought that sometimes a long deep philosophy would be good for him, and this seemed like the time to test it out.

He cleared his throat and started in a meek, almost incomprehensible voice.

“Life, sir?” His answer came out more like a question, so he gulped and tried again.

“L-life is a war, sir. It’s always you against the world, someone else, people that hate you.”

The man didn’t stop staring at him, which in George’s mind meant he should continue with whatever line of thought he started.

“Life is a war, because you keep fighting throughout the entirety of it, and then you die. But how you die is whether you won or lost.”

He didn’t know how to continue and just tried staring back at the God. He didn’t even notice until then that his sight was somehow off. It all slanted to the left a bit, and he couldn’t discern how close the God’s face actually was to his own.

He tried to appear as menacing and stoic as possible until the God moved away and slapped George on his shoulder.

The God turned towards the woman. “He’ll do,” he said, then went back to the throne.

At that moment, George was engulfed in red light, and he looked towards the man on the throne. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening to him but didn’t have time to do so before the man answered.

“From now on, you’re bound to me, Keroteon, God of War. You’ll do as I tell you to do when I tell you to do so and you’ll spread my word throughout the world of the mortals like yourself. Do so and you’ll be rewarded. Break this bond and you’ll be punished.

“It seems that you’re still too weak to actually be a fighter, as your battle has shown, but that will change. Now, you can go back. And you’re welcome.”

Before George could ask anything else, he was surrounded by red.

A moment later, he was staring at a wall of a cavern, his head hurt like in a bad hangover.

He looked around and was immediately greeted by Gaz’Ruk.

“We won, Grrrg. Thank you.”

He looked at his surroundings, and the battle seemed over. There were a few lizardmen wincing in pain around him that were still alive, but everyone else seemed that. It was eerily reminiscent of the field he was just in.

There was no shortage of questions in his mind, but before that could happen, he was greeted by his book again, which seemed to just fly towards him on its own.

It was far more elaborate than before, with bright red coloured covers that now had metallic edges. The front of it depicted an axe and a mace behind a shield with a familiar helmet in the middle.

The book opened on the first page, and could only spare attention to focus on the opening sentence.

To the glory of Keroteon, may he lead to victory.

He looked up into the ceiling of the cavern and ushered a silent 'thanks' to the air. His chest tingled in response, and George pushed his shirt away to see a tattoo in the liking of the book cover on the right of his chest.

He was still certain that the tattoo on his face didn't move, but couldn't see it without a mirror or reflecting surface.

He served two different people now, a Deity, and whatever the Guardian was.

His life was getting complicated.