<~(Aetherium Fields, Altaron 212)~>

I got forcibly ejected out of the decayed remains of what used to be Cel Davron once the vital organs fully disintegrated-leaving me just beyond the veil that split mortal and supernatural without a physical vessel to inhabit. It annoyed me a little bit to have no physical vessel to call my own, but I knew that creating one took some time to forge from scratch. Aside from raw material cost, a simulacrum framework was not difficult to create though I wasn’t quite powerful enough yet for reforging without help. What I could realistically do at the moment was figure out a potential place to recover energy without being bothered for at least a few centuries-hence why I journeyed off Earth and back into System controlled space.

Luckily for me, I found a world that the System labelled as “Altaron” with an intense magical regeneration rate and high energy output-an arcane developed world. Upon entering Altaron, my arrival point seemed to be full of lush plants and wildlife who have lived in peace which further added to its potential as a place of resting though-judging from what the System informed me about this world-I had doubts this tranquil peace will last long enough for me to recover enough energy. This place contained far more than enough natural resources to not be alluring for prospective villages or kingdoms and still lay unclaimed, but that did not mean I couldn’t set a few safeguards in case of human stupidity. Without much time left before exhaustion claims me, I used a small fragment of my power to create an underground cavern laced with deep enchantments to draw in a tithe of magical energy-while amplifying ambient energy flow throughout the fields-that will help in the reforging process. It carried a big enough chance to manifest a dungeon on top of the caverns-with its own dungeon core-but I was already running out of time. The very last thing I did before falling into a deep slumber was create a paradoxical lock on my resting chamber that could not easily be broken by mortal magic or science and with the soft click of a lock engaging, everything turned black.

<~(+)~>

I dreamed vivid dreams of peaceful villagers tending crops, children running through streets laughing as they played their games, leaders who upheld the rule of law in a fair manner, and a growing prosperous kingdom far above my resting place-unaware of how long I slept for or if anything I witnessed was a mere passing blur of motion like grains of sand falling through an hourglass. Some of the people in my dreams took to adventuring deep into the dungeons and returning with victory on their mind as well as bags of riches for their troubles, but as the dreams continued, a dark foreboding veil covered this fledgling kingdom-revealing pits of corruption and greed among the supposed noble class. Fires burned through the streets-both magical and mundane-while blood spilled from both the common people and the nobility in violent encounters through sword or arrow. Men and women lay dead or dying in those same streets which once had experienced joy and happiness flowing through them. The most heartbreaking moment of these dreams was how those children covered in ash and blood wailed for parents who would never wake up again.

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Then in the span of a blink, the nightmare ended with those children growing up to rebuild their homeland from the ash like a phoenix rebirthing-still carrying the burden of death and destruction on their aging minds. The streets once more filled with joyous laughter and happiness as peace returned-letting the old generation pass away in peace after living in darkness for so long. A few of the buildings in the fledgling kingdom looked to be temples to praise some deity of guardianship-a bulwark of faith for the people I assumed-which might have been a source of hope in this small kingdom in dire times. Once more, I did not know how long these dreams lasted before turning to blatant horror or returning back to a peaceful state though something felt dangerously wrong somewhere near. In response, what I dreamt next confirmed my suspicions.

A young woman-who could not be any older than sixteen or seventeen years old-laid a few hundred yards from the kingdom’s borders next to a river with her life’s blood staining the water red. Her short brunette hair barely touching the river’s edge and elvish forest green eyes slowly fogging up-turning glossy-with painful shallow breaths being the only sign of her still living. She appeared to have been cut just above the kidney and seemed to suffer broken ribs with her-assumed-pointed ears cut clean up in a fashion while still alive. I could tell her very soul wanted to reject dying so badly despite her grievous wounds and injuries, but the traitorous body refuses to work. I slowly floated to be next to her though I knew she could not sense nor see me in the hopes to learn her dying wish.

What I got for my troubles was far more than just a dying wish.

I learned that this young woman-named Eri of Daniner-lived a relatively peaceful childhood with two loving parents who were also elves. Eri was nearing her age of majority-which apparently for elves is two hundred and fifty winters-when humans attacked their forest village without provocation. Eri’s parents and entire community had been burned to the ground-leaving her the sole survivor of the humans’ merciless attack-while her soul siblings gave her time to run away. She cried horribly when they were cut down in front of her, but those cries attracted the human attackers towards her location which then led her to run towards the kingdom of Karnari where someone could potentially aid her.

Obviously, she couldn’t make it in time before they reached her and tortured the poor elfess to seemingly no end. Eri let out deep cries as they kicked her in the ribs-breaking them in the process-and cut off her ears to where those elf hunters commented about getting a decent price for all the ears they collected on the black market. They ended the torture by stabbing Eri just above the kidney and slowly letting her bleed out to death where elven regenerative abilities could not keep up in time which explained why her blood kept pouring out without clotting. The young elfess-using whatever little strength she had left-softly prayed for help from anyone who could hear her and after learning such a heartbreaking tale, I answered that prayer.

“Consider your wish heard, young elfess,” I whispered softly. “I shall return you back to life a century in the past with your memory retained and a boon to aid you in your quest for vengeance. Return, Eri of Daniner, and break your cycle.”