At an accelerated pace, an eager Hero trots down a highland dirt road with Kell just a meter behind.
“Can’t you go faster?” Hero asks in an energetic, if a bit impatient tone.
The mysterious Kell, huffing as he does his best to keep up, clears his throat.
“Well, actually I was wondering if we could slow down a little.”
Hero sighs, and slows down to marching speed. “I can’t waste time when my dad’s at risk like this.”
“Trust me on this one,” Kell says with a labored breath as he catches up “slow and steady’s what’s going to win the race. If we rush in, our enemies could get the jump on us, and that could spell the end of our quest.”
The young man hums in thought. “Like who?”
Kell looks down the road. “The fake Rondi, and her blasphemous children, the O.E.L., as well as this cruel bastardization of a universe we are in.”
“That’s vague,” Hero says, certain he’s heard the name “Rondi” before somewhere. “Why do they want us to fail?”
“Science,” Kell says. “Their means are usually mysterious, but those of us from the outside could see it happening.”
Hero shakes his head. “What’s science, and what do you mean ‘from the outside’?”
The little star-bright eye floating over Kell’s shoulder beeps to him a moment, and he nods. “Well, I suppose.”
He turns back to Hero. “I shouldn’t go too into depth yet, else you may not believe me. Perhaps it’s best that we just wait for our attackers to take their first attempt at us.”
“I can handle it,” Hero says with a smirk, noting his huge stat score of INT.
“It’s a lot to handle, young man. I’ll be very frank with you: The things I’m going to tell you may persuade you that suicide isn't all together out of the question.”
Hero purses his lips. “That… that bad?”
Kell nods. “For now, just enjoy the veil of this world you know, and I’ll lift it bit by bit as we go along.”
“Alright.”
“I understand that it would worry you, but for know, do know the very best thing for you to do would be to focus on slaying Exeranoth.”
“What would that do in your grand scheme?”
“It would save your dad, and I’m sure that would calm you down,” Kell says with a good-natured scoff. “Don’t worry about the details just yet, all will come in time.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Alright,” Hero says, just as they cross over a hill that reveals the vista of a grand kingdom. “Wow.”
“Never been to Eizerith before?” Kell asks.
Hero shakes his head. “No, never.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Kell says with a facetious tone.
“Huh?”
“You’d have to be running pretty fast to get there, and then back home in time!”
Hero looks at Kell as if he’s quite mad, which he very well could be. After all, who wears a helmet with four lenses? “…What?”
“N-” Kell coughs. “Nevermind. A-all will be known in time! Onward to Eizerith!” Kell says, dramatically pointing down the road.
Hero shrugs, and decides to take this pause to keep putting points into his stats. This time he tries to balance himself out, putting only ten level’s worth of points in a single stat each time before moving onto the next stat. He repeats this process for several minutes as they enter a canopied forest, chirping with birds. Pumping his stats produces such a wonderful feeling, Hero thinks; his entire body’s chemistry changing and improving on the fly with each point spent. He can only imagine how immense he’ll be after he’s spent years putting in all the points, and that’s just stats - when he gets to his skills, he’ll be truly unstoppable. He fantasizes about his coming powers just as Kell stops short.
Hero swears he should have been the first to notice danger, but then again he still doesn’t know what his companion’s capable of.
“What is it?” Hero asks.
Kell stares into the woods a moment, and then pulls up a book from his cloaked person. The book is titled Dragon Scythe: Origins, with a ton of extra text around the cover.
“What’s that?” Hero asks, raising his fists at the ready.
Kell flips through a few pages, hums to himself, and then comes to a nod before closing the book. “Strategy guide.”
“What?”
“I’m fairly certain this is the spot.”
“Aren’t we going to Eizerith?”
Kell taps one of his cloak-hidden boots on a the forest ground. “We are, however I figure we might as well go ahead and skip the ‘three trials’ garbage.”
“Th… huh?” Hero looks about in confusion as Kell steps into an overgrown side path. “Where are we going?”
“The temple of Aym’s Holy Mercy.”
“Who’s Aym?”
“The god of Aydoss.”
Hero hums. The name sounds so familiar, and yet he can’t quite recall where he heard that name last. “So, how does Rondi fall into all this?” Hero asks as he brushes aside a branch as they enter a secret, ancient glade, overgrown with chivalric statues and old banners.
Kell is silent a moment as he considers the best answer. “You can consider Rondi an ‘invading deity’ in this case, as well as most of the people you meet here in Aydoss now. They might not realize it, but they are visitors from another world.” Kell finds what looks like a mausoleum door, overgrown with vines that themselves have been grown upon, and he lays his shining hand upon the door.
“HALT,” an intimidating, arcane voice speaks. “YOU ARE TRESPASSING UPON THE DOMAIN OF AYM HIMSELF, KEEPER OF THE GREAT FROST, SLAYER OF THE FIRE EATERS, AND HE WHO BESTOWS THE WEAPON AGAINST THE TITANS. ONLY HE WHO HAS COLLECTED THE THREE DRAGON STONES, AND HE WHO IS OF THE PUREST OF HEART AND INCLINATION WILL BE ALLOWED TO PASS THROUGH THIS-”
In the next second, Hero’s vision and hearing are overwhelmed with the immensity of an explosion, caused no-doubt by
Kell’s stupid little shoulder symbol, floating about and beeping in its usually stupid, adorable way.
The entirety of the mausoleum’s entrance has been removed, as well as nearly a quarter of a mile of trees behind it. All in the path has been wiped clean with sweeping, undeniable force — like being struck by a star.
“There’s your dragon stones,” Kell says matter-of-factly, and with no small amount of snideness, “This way, Hero,” he adds as he starts down into the mausoleum’s underground.
Hero still can’t believe that this guy has trouble running on his own two legs.