“The creeping dark is nothing like we have seen before. The visions involving them shows a dark that creeps to the world, seeping into our realm without a hint of whence it came. The dark is cold, yet it burns with a hate for us that knows no bounds.”

- Princess Analise Basalos

Their Progenitor Lord was taken by sleep, the wounds scarred upon his arms transferring their pains to his progeny. Each pain he had felt in that cruel and sudden battle, was felt keenly by his Aberrations. The two Aberrations that were truly alive, the Gadator and Venator felt the wounds as if it was done to them. It invoked a similar reaction from them that their Progenitor felt. Making them grow angry and vindictive to the metal things that made their lord suffer.

To the Teutons, the sleeping and forming aberrants shuddered within the artificial womb of the egg-like sacs that contained them. They despite being far more mindless than the two unique aberrations that guarded them, reacted to the link to their Progenitor as if they were awake. By their rising killing intent, the area they stood upon felt strange, suffocating even to those that dare stray near to it.

With anger boiling in their bosoms, the two aberrations that could do a wide range of actions instead would growl. Their minds although primal and recent, were equivalent to that of a fully matured human, and with the available memories within the mind of their progenitor and that of his ancient ancestors within his very flesh, they deduced that they could do nothing.

Their lord was not in any immediate danger, despite knowing that he would die due to the amount of blood he had loss. But that was for a normal human, a human that originated from the world called Earth, the mother that birthed the race of their lord, one that was as cruel as it was loving. Forcing the humans upon its surface to constantly adapt to simply survive, to the point they reached a level of technological advancement that impressed the young minds of the two aberrants.

Their lord, based upon what memories and knowledge they could glean from their link, was something different. Instinctively they felt it was because he was chosen, that it was natural as he was their maker, their god. But from what they learned, it was because of something related to some force that made him change and mutate. And that made them feel more in awe, as it meant that their lord was not even fully formed. Convincing them that he would not die from such a thing, especially when his better half was at his side, the one that eased his pain.

And even if they rushed to find him, they would be cut down easily by the metal men. And the other inhabitants of that gigantic city they saw in his memories.

Without orders from him, and only visions of his dream of a field of skulls and something he describes as an ancient entity behind large gates, they acted on their own. They were independent, clearly different from the ten Teutons that were forming within the eggs at the center. As if they were rushed products, specialized in one task that was obviously related to violence.

If one looked, it was clear that the Teutons were a much more ‘stable’ variation of the Aberrations. One that was easily replicated, as each Teuton looked almost similar, clones among themselves. In contrast, the Venator and Gadator held little resemblance to the Teuton. As they were more primal and rugged, quickly formed from either the will of their lord or from some unknowable thing.

With the desire to feed their hunger, to sate their bloodlust and most of all to fulfill the many desires of their progenitor, the two acted now. Forcing themselves in a state of calm, which was next to useless as they felt the need to give in to their baser instincts.

What stopped them was the concept of pride and honor taken and inherited from their progenitor. If their lord had held on to such concepts, they believed they should to. And it was not acceptable then for them to give in to their desires, as it would bring shame to them. Making them think that perhaps they would be cut off from the budding hive of their kind, which sent chilling fear to their spines.

For like their progenitor they felt the need to belong, and though they were like him, their fear of being without the hive, to fall from grace, was greater than that of any living being. This one was not enforced by Benedict or his subconscious, but rather an accidental mutation when they were formed. This pushed them to action fully, causing the Gadator to approach the largest of the animals they had captured. Whilst the Venator, the more violent of the two would pad over to the immediate area of their territory, letting out a noise akin to gagging followed by him vomiting red tar-like substance in an arc, intending to hit several trees.

With the Gadator holding the largest creature by the horn, a bison-like entity covered in thick protective shells that covered its body like a turtle-shell, he would open its snout and look down upon its throat. The creature, like the others the aberrations have gathered was barely alive at this rate, and it could only let out a short pitiful whimper. Without any sort of pity within him, the Gadator would open its maw and hover the opening of his own mouth over it. And like the Venator he would suddenly puke out the same red tar-like substance, nearly similar to blood but containing disgusting fleshy bulbs, but not as many as the one the Venator puked.

This allowed the Gadator to let nothing spill ,and to cleanly stop once the creature swallowed it all. It was a disturbing sight, more so when one realized that this was perhaps the reason why the Aberrations even gathered these beings. They were propagated and created through parasitic means, and without even knowing about it fully, the two did this. With the Gadator clearly intending to create more of his kin, and the Venator ‘marking’ the trees that encircled their clearing.

This action of theirs would initially show no clear effect, as they would do this bit by bit for the course of hours. By then the Teutons started to wake, but not hatch, with their armored bone growths on their arms creeping up to their backs, forming two growths upon their shoulder blades, akin to some sort of chimney. For the Teutons there was no need for themselves to awaken this early yet, as they were allowed the leisure time to gain more knowledge from the link of their Progenitor, unlike that of the Gadator and Venator when they were first born in the world.

Then nearly seven hours since their Progenitor was defeated in that cruel test that the metal men dragged him into, the trees that the Venator puked upon would display changes in their structure. With fleshy growth spreading like a corruption upon its surface, where mana would become strangely a bit more thinner than usual. This would be among the many growths that came from the afflicted trees, and the creatures that ingested the red tar-like substance would begin to spasm from time to time.

And one figure, the figure of an entity that was not there initially, but is now present and extending out from the trunk of a particularly aged tree sighed. It was the Lord Mender, his body which was overgrown with plant-life was particularly more like a tree now, and his glowing eyes stared at the sight before him with a mixture of uncertainty and worry. As what the Venator did to the trees he could clearly feel, and it was a feeling of forced change and mana being siphoned to fuel something.

But as with all things born within Malvirek, the Lord Mender could only watch as the progeny of the youngest lord of the Ancients set about doing their task, showing signs of independence and frightening intelligence one might not expect from a newborn race. He as the Lord Mender, the one that mended and managed the balance of all that lives within their ancient home, could only watch and hope that this new race would seamlessly integrate itself to the ecosystem of this particular part of the forest.

But with their obvious show of aggressive desires, he wondered if even their Lord could control them, much less lead them to a much more civilized route. Grumbling at that thought, his body would begin to recede back into the trunk of the tree, merging with it as if he was always a part of it.

The Aberrations would not notice him, as the two of them would focus on their tasks. Slowly diverting their attention at thoughts of fortifying their territory, and most of all protecting the eggs that contained the Teutons.

-

Again he dreamed about that field of skulls. About those rising undead that followed and marched alongside him. But there was another addition, a miniscule one taking the form of the Forlorn who shadowed his every step. Eerily smiling as they slowly reached that gigantic gate once more. With that same entity watching through the cracks of the skull, with its one eye looking at him wildly again. This time nothing notable happened, as he would simply stare back at the eye, with it making him feel his head go numb the more he did so. Until it got to the point that the very action caused him to wake up in cold sweat, feeling as if that dream was one where he did not have control, with him only regaining his motor functions with him waking.

He would find himself quickly losing the memory of that dream, which was strange as the previous dreams he had with such a view was lucid. What made this one different? What made him feel as if this dream was simply a dream and not a vision of sorts? The answer that he sought would not be given to him, as he was no intellectual or some grand magus that knew the secrets to the mind or that of visions. He did not dwell on the matter, as his mind was still sleepy and in need of rest.

But rebelliously denying such a desire, he would shift a bit on what he laid upon, discovering that he was back in the same room he first saw in this city. His body would feel incredibly tired, with that burning pain coursing within his veins. But unlike before it was manageable, being more akin to a mild annoyance than a great pain. Now he also felt his mind buzzing with thoughts not of his own, ceaseless flow of information with his own being accessed by something.

He didn’t truly see it that way, but his changed biology allowed him to partially comprehend it. Letting him feel that there was a multitude of individuals accessing what he knew, making him remember long lost memories and information as if he never lost them. Then there was that of memories not belonging to him, depicting an unfamiliar part of the forest which had strange growths upon the trees, and the creatures he christened as Teutons within their fleshy egg-like wombs.

He saw them through the eyes of what he assumed to be either the Gadator or Venator. With him feeling himself ‘wearing’ the consciousness of the individual, letting him hear the thoughts and desires of the being. Incredibly, he felt as if he was simply himself, albeit a more primal version. Hungry, angry and utterly curious yet cold, this is what he felt from this creature. The thoughts that came from this being was strangely methodical, following a need to prepare and wait. The thoughts of this being were driven by the emotions he initially felt.

It felt strange feeling the emotions of another, hearing their thoughts and even tasting what was upon their mouths. But here he was experiencing that, and it was disconcerting to him to say the least. Forcing him to try and find a way to no longer feel the sensations of another, which was actually easy for a single thought pulled him back.

But with his senses being returned to that of his own would disorient him. Causing him to groan as he laid there on his bed, not realizing that he was not laying down alone. Only when a slight shuffling next to his shoulder, followed by a gentle nuzzle against it would alert him to the presence of another, one that was familiar and comforting to him.

“Salia..”

Without meaning it or wanting to, he spoke her name as he felt the needed to simply hug her close, allowing himself to return to sleep. Which he did so, using his left arm to pull her closer to him as he faced her, letting him feel that strange calm that came from the contact of her skin. It made him like her more, love her more, even when it was not voluntary like he first realized.

He only knew her a day ago, and yet he treated her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. The warmth she brought to him, physical and emotional, and that need of his to be as close as possible to her. It was all unnatural, forced by something, forced by someone in this world. And he knew a possibility of who did it, and he began to grow disgusted by that individual. But the same could not be said to the woman he hugged close, which he felt was something to be expected.

You’ve realized it, have you not? Such a sharp one you are Apex… You think and think, uncertain but certain. Contradictory you are.. I like it.

Then came that voice, if it could be called as such. He had heard this one ever since he came to this forest, this obviously magical place. But during those times, the voice was not in a way, a true voice. It was akin to the buzzing of static and discordant underwater moans of seafaring creatures. Initially he chalked it up to hallucinations, brief moments of insanity during the times it occurred as those times were quite stressful. As he also heard this voice as a chant-like thing.

But now, despite the way it sounded, the way it felt like it came from some unfathomable depths. He now could understand its words. Not the exact words, but a translation to it, an almost perfect equivalent to this voice. Which brought about a domineering feeling, indicating that the source was not human, not mortal, and certainly not sane.

You listen now, finally. Your ears are opened up, just as your mind has. Hungry, hungry.. Yet you do not dream of me yet. You dream of that field of bones and dead with that imprisoned failure.. You must dream of me my Apex.. It is only fair.

The voice caught his attention, forcibly pulling it away from the warmth that Salia gave and towards the ceiling. To look beyond it, to look to that memory of that brief vision of a cold ancient void of space, with strange undulating creatures that swam in that inhospitable place. The very sight made him remember  the concept of Old Gods, old creatures far deadlier and greater than the traditional concept of gods. And that voice clearly reminded him of that as he is forced to look around for its source, only being able to look at the ceiling in a logical conclusion that it must be from beyond.

You are to know many things.. You are to be many things. You shall be my Apex as I have said, but you cannot dream of me.. So I must talk to you. Converse. Fraternize. So.. Sooo many words in your mortal tongue, fleshy fleshy tongue..

‘Who?’

He asked in his mind, not wanting to wake Salia up so suddenly. The voice would reply quickly, a twisted cackle reverberating in his very mind. In reaction to that his body would started to writhe, specifically the strange worm-like writhings within his veins. Causing him to stiffen, even though he would have simply expressed discomfort and uneasiness, this one was far worse than the previous ones.

I am your greatest fan.. Apex. I am what helped direct your desires to this.. To this beautiful form. You disliked the Gods of this world, hate them, hate them with your heart. I heard your unsung prayers.. Gave you this. Gave you a great gift. But I am not going to make you my champion.. As you are more than that.

With this hate, with this gift, with your progeny.. You will be.. Amusing to watch. Skitter skitter upon the surface of this ancient world as the twelfth of its ancient children’s court.. Marvelous..

What this being said to him was strange, incoherent and touched with madness. But each words that it spoke caused the writhings of his body to get worse, to the point that his scythes that harmlessly rested itself at his shoulders and chest would begin to move in response, wanting to lash out but unable to as Salia was too close.

Shame.. Shame. Can’t force you, no no no.. Can’t make you rend your scythes upon your better half. So strong, this is… It will make for a better, better show! Go on, go on.. Dream of me my Apex. Dream of me when you can see a dreamless nightmare. For you are.. Better. Much, much better.

And just like that the writhings stopped, and unbelievably for the first time ever since he had come here, Benedict felt so feeble, so weak. Unable to even take control of his own fate and actions, as the reason as to why he had become this revealed itself. But there was something to what its manic babbling that suggested that he had only given him a chance to change, and what was happening to his body was something entirely different. Perhaps even because of himself.

Decide what you want, show me what you can achieve. Be better, grander.. And kill… Kill until the world is dyed red in blood, or devour.. Conquer..Dominate.. In the end you will dream of me again. You will want, and want as it is shall be your nature..

Then before he could realize it, he would feel sensations return to his body. A gentle hand caressing his face that had began to sweat alerted him to Salia, who had woken up from him who was trembling. Her sleepy eyes would look at him with concern, before she would speak.

“Benedict.. What’s wrong? Did you have nightmares?”

At a loss as to how to reply, he would simply shake his head. How was he to reply to her, when she was laying next to him and caressing his face like a lover? Worse yet he felt it was all right, the most sensible thing in the world to happen to him. Even when what he knew spoke of the contrary, that this was not natural.

“Are you sure? You’re sweating… The mana within your veins is getting excited, burning slowly again.. Are you angry again?”

As she continued speaking in his place, he realized she was half-awake. As her eyes struggled to stay open with her voice growing softer, less coherent. He needed for her to return to sleep, so his thoughts may be of his own, and not of him fussing over this unbelievable situation in this bed.

“No.. I am.. Alright.”

The words was a struggle for him to say, with it leaving his mouth with a strangled tone. Luckily for him the sleepy Salia did not notice and would tiredly smile, before she would close her eyes and return to simply hugging him again. For Benedict who had no prior experience in such an intimate thing would have had stiffened right there, unable to sleep for the rest of the night. But that strange influence that Salia had on him would force him to feel sleepy, putting his mind away from what he had just experienced.

Slowly but surely he would return to sleep, with that twisted voice of that creature speaking in the background, slowly fading away as his consciousness slipped and returned to that dream of skulls. With him not noticing a change within the dream.

Dream of me, dream of me… For the da.. urks… ai… Apex..

-

Away from Malvirek, the large ancient swathe of land that was the hotbed of ancient and deadly things, the summoned champions conversed with one another. They had grown into their new life, almost seamlessly integrating with the culture of their hosts, nearly fully accepting their fate as heroes. With them being surprisingly happy with this, as they are given a chance to be something more than what they were in the past.

A winged individual could be seen discussing something with what seems to be a Royal Guard. His blonde hair, golden eyes and fair skin marked him as some angelic entity, for it matched the growing wings he had upon his back. This was Damien, the chosen of Aurolos, among the forty-five summoned, now forty-four as Benedict had met an untimely demise. Like the summoned present in the large gathering hall, he had changed overtime thanks to the influence of his patron god.

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He by far showed radical change, even when his wings were not large enough to even give the possibility of flight. But his form that was different to what he was when he first came here, had naturally made him the center of the attention of nobility and the other summoned. Viewed as the ‘hero’ of the group, the hope that will be deliver them to salvation, or a figure they can put their trust upon.

This, as the champion of Aurolos was given unto Damien. A gift that was slowly being influenced by his own desires. With a natural affinity for talking to comrades, Damien drew many to his words and made them lax or hyped in his presence. Though that was only true for the summoned, but the Royal Guard that stood before him was stoic. His face hidden behind his visored sallet showed no emotion, not even his brown eyes allowed anyone to tell what the individual was feeling.

“The information you are requesting, despite your position and rank is confidential Damien. It shall be told to you, and the other summoned soon enough. But for now, the Captain has instructed us that you and the others must continue training.”

His almost monotone response caused Damien to frown a bit, as their conversation revolved around the upcoming arrival of royalty from the elves, and an expedition that was being planned. Nearly two months and a half had passed since their arrival here, he and his fellow summoned had indeed grown accepting of their situation, and had in private admitted to one another that this was too good to be true, but better than some other grim fate.

“I know Sir Deren, but we are concerned. We don’t really know what is beyond the Lonesome Frost, and we are still learning about this wonderful place. Couldn’t you at least share some partial information?”

Damien smiled sheepishly as he finished his sentence, he hoped that the Royal Knight before him would at least consider at telling them some bits of information, to alleviate their curiosity and lessen their worries. But Sir Deren only squinted his eyes, as he replied coldly, matching the grey plate armor of the Royal Guard and enforcing the uncompromising image of theirs.

“No.”

This short and simple reply held many meanings, as it was more hostile than before. The Royal Guards were true to their names, answering only to the Royalty, clearly making it obvious that the Summoned were not their superiors. This caused Damien to frown, but being unable to gain any more information he would bow respectfully.

“Ah, okay then. Sorry for taking your time Sir Deren.”

Damien obviously showed dissatisfaction from the conversation which lead to nothing. He wasn’t able to get the desired response he wanted, and he couldn’t help but feel sad and glum from it, as his friends wanted to know what was going on. He felt he was betraying their expectations, as he had been the ‘leader’ ever since he was chosen by his God.

He sighed then as he saw Sir Deren walking away. Crisp steps and a firm posture that spoke of years upon years of service, with pride and deadly skill being wrapped around that grey plate of the Royal Guard. He observed Sir Deren walking to the sight of another Royal Knight, with the latter raising a fist close to his left breast to signify a salute with a right hand. With a simple nod Sir Deren walked pass the knight, heading towards the exit of the large room they were in, obviously with the purpose of finding Aniara, the head of the Royal Guard.

“The greys are particularly silent today.”

A voice would reach Damien’s ear, coming directly from behind him. It was a girl’s voice, but it suddenly popped up without him noticing anyone approaching from behind. This was another summoned, Jasmine the chosen of the Goddess of the Hunt. She was among all of the summoned, the most gifted in the art of stealth. Not only that, she had this natural ability in simply not being noticed till the last minute, only augmented further by being chosen by the Goddess Minarel.

She, compared to the other females of the summoned was plain in some people’s eyes, but to Damien who had been blessed by Aurolos could see her true physical qualities. As if something was making her look plain and barely noticeable by others. Though she did in a way look plain, in the sense she was that one girl who was always so serious. As she had this uptight vibe to her, with her long brown hair tied to a ponytail, with her wearing glasses that help make her stern gaze more noticeable.

“You shouldn’t call them greys Jasmine. It might make them feel insulted.”

Damien could only sigh at what she called them, though he couldn’t help but feel rather disturbed by how dismissive she was towards them, with the fact she could sneak up on everyone. Though the girl in question would show a small smile, before she would break to a giggle.

“Would you prefer if I call them ‘Royal Knights’? It’s too formal for my tastes, greys seem more fitting. As it matches their personality.”

This girl was a person that many summon could not read properly, they could not discern what she truly feels. And Damien shared that sentiment, though he felt that she was simply not used to sharing more of her thoughts. With a respectful nod, Damien looked at Jasmine with a small smile.

“Not all of them, though they remind me of the soldiers back home.. They seem to take their jobs rather seriously. So it can’t be helped.”

The soldiers in question were a topic Damien had been bringing up ever since he had gotten comfortable with his fellow summons. But he did not further explain who or what these soldiers were, or from what country he even was from.But what was consistent with the other summoned, that he was from Earth. It was similar to the others, but save for three people that had openly stated they were from the Philippines. During when said three stated they wished no part in being champions for the Gods of this world.

“Again with the mention of these soldiers, you make them sound like as if they were some modern version of Knights. But regardless of that, their actions as of late had been strange, ever since they mentioned the coming of Elven Royalty.”

Damien could only nod to what she said, as every since the mention of visiting Elven Royalty the Royal Knights had been far stiffer than usual. To the point that Aniara herself seemed to have gotten busier, with Leila herself visiting them less often than usual. It was only natural that they would feel concerned, as they had been taught that the humans of this place, or Northmen and the Snow Elves were in amicable terms with one another. Which didn’t make sense, as the Royal Guards seem to be fussy about the entire thing with the Royalty Visiting.

But it could be regarding the expedition that was being planned. They were summoned to be heroes and saviours, fighting against a coming dark. One summoned speculated that this dark had made its move, and that this is the reason why the royals were meeting, with the expedition being planned so suddenly. Personally, even though it felt exciting, Damien wanted more time for them to train and study. As he personally felt lacking in knowledge and experience.

“Yeah. But I guess the others are getting worried about this.. We haven’t seen them this tense before, barring that time with Benedict..”

Damien’s smile would turn to a frown as he remembered that individual. An individual that was entirely opposite of him in terms of ideology and personality. To him he saw something he did not like, a person that was just doesn’t right to him. Maybe it was because that summoned never openly spoke with them, content at seemingly brooding in his room or wandering off with his two friends, and bearing an obvious disdain for the people of this world and to their fellow summoned.

And his dislike for Benedict worsened when that summoned openly displaying his hate for him. For reasons unknown to him, Benedict seemed to dislike everything about him, and it worsened when the heralds of the Gods began to approach them to seek a champion. All of them had been chosen, but out of the forty two only three did not accept any Gods. It was a shock, but to Damien it wasn’t as he had heard from others that Benedict and his friends had been voicing their suspicion for this world.

“Don’t think about him.. He chose that fate for himself.”

A tinge of disgust would be laced on Jasmine’s words. Which Damien found odd as Jasmine didn’t particularly hate Benedict. Even when that summoned was particularly hostile to many, he had only shown one true hostile act in that murder of a squire.

“Yeah, he jumped off that cliff. Choosing to die rather than being brought to the king.. I can’t help but feel bad, even though he committed that crime. And seeing his hate for me in our duel, I want to know what made him hate me so much.”

Even when Benedict had fallen from grace in his eyes, Damien wanted to know why Benedict hated him so much. But at the moment it didn’t matter as Jasmine spoke, directing his attention back to her. She seemed to be deep in thought, though her gaze was not directed to him bot the hallway were Deren was last seen going out of. And when Damien looked there, he saw two faces he hadn’t seen in nearly a month.

“Perhaps you can ask those two. I think their names were Jio and Carleon? They have changed much in nearly a month away. The two don’t seem pleased about being back here.. If they are here, does that mean that the King needs all of us summoned here?”

Damien nodded, as when the three had left, they made no effort in telling others of what their plans were. It made him realize that among all the summoned, the three had to be the most reclusive among them. As only a certain few were aware of them leaving, and only when it was too late did they wonder where they went. It was made more strange to him that, when Benedict was indicted for the crime of murder, the two were not by his side or near him at all.

Suggesting that they had gone their separate ways, for what reason he cannot assume as he felt it was rude. But upon seeing the sight of the two, Damien understood what they had planned. As the two who were once greenhorns in being warriors, now had the air of individuals that had experienced what it was like into being forced into battle. It was not like the ones they held, as the two that walked through the stone hallway and into the large hall where the other summoned were sitting upon.

The hall they were in was essentially a gathering a hall. With a large space at the center that would allow individuals to spar there, and with weapon racks scattered to the side it seemed its purpose was just that.

With its windows being arched and barred by lattice, letting a measure of the cold outside get in. The other summoned chattered amongst each other, sitting upon chairs and tables around the room, that coincidentally made it looked as if it was a mess hall.

“They are.. Armed.”

Damien muttered in unease, as he saw their forms more clearly now as they neared the two Royal Guards stationed by the entrance to watch over them. Carleon’s attire reminded him of some sort of pilgrim knight, as Jio resembled an ill-equipped rogue of sorts. But their weaponry, a war-hammer and a one edged blade respectively, evoked a sense of foreboding within him. He could not explain it, but he felt as if something malicious would happen. Perhaps it was the way how they openly held their weapons, with Carleon’s hand around the middle of his hammer whilst Jio held the handle of the blade, with it facing backwards. It caused the clear rattling of chains to be heard, letting the summoned nearest to the entrance halt their chatter.

If one would look, the Royal Guards near the entrance of the hallway would gaze at the two. Their once statuette like posture breaking at that moment, their hands that gripped the halberd they were assigned with tightening around the haft of the weapon. But the two returning summoned did not mind them, as they walked into the room their brown eyes looked at Damien firmly. What emotion they held could not be discerned, but their furrowing brows implied distaste at the very sight of his to them.

“Pretty boy.”

“Hero.”

The two spoke almost at the same time, the almost derogatory title was spoken by Jio. Whilst the other more formal one was by Carleon, yet the latter held little to no respect at all. And was an attempt at trying to be respectful, but it left the tall boy’s lips with an obvious lack of mirth to it. He didn’t understand why they were like this, as before they were not as hostile as this. They couldn’t have known that Benedict had died, or perhaps they did and they were trying their best not to blame him. And he would flick himself mentally, realizing that perhaps they were back because they had heard that Benedict died and wanted to confirm if it was true.

“Good to see that you two are still alive.”

Jasmine spoke first, stopping Damien from replying as she gave an uncharacteristic smile to the two. Without any hints of overt hostility, the royal guards ceased their tense posture as the two godless stood in front of the two. Up close Damien could see actual wear and tear at their equipment, and realize that the chains around their arms were much longer than he initially saw them for. As most of their length was wrapped around their dominant arm, which should be heavy.

“Alive without gods to protect us.”

Jio says with a mocking smile, his statement seemingly directed to every other summoned that listened in. Carleon would half-heartedly hit Jio at his side with his elbow, but it was clear that he didn’t mind that slight upon the others.

“Forgive Jio for that, our travels have been long. And it became more of a hassle when they were ended prematurely with a letter from Leila.”

At this Damien would reply, his curiosity peaked as he had heard that the princess herself sent them a letter. When she herself barely made appearances to them the summoned that were present, He wasn’t jealous or angry, simply curious as he believed the princess had good reason not to show her face all the time.

“Did she tell you to come back due to the coming expedition, and the arrival of Snow Elf royalty?”

Jio at Damien’s question sneered, chuckling as he would flip his blade and hold it the right side up, bringing it near his face to examine as he obviously looked for a reaction, which the royal guards gave in them tensing again. But he made no move to attack, only to speak.

“Nope, not at all. We only found out about that when we got here from Aniara herself. Very interesting thing you know. Kinda like those animes.. I’ve been also curious as to what a Sahdun Royal looked.”

An unfamiliar word would then be spoken by Jio, Sahdun. Which upon being uttered the royal guards who were already tense and ready to strike would widen their eyes behind their visors, staring at Jio and Carleon with more intensity than they do usually to summoned.

“And what is a Sahdun?”

“Of course, you wouldn’t know.”

Jio’s sneer would quickly turn into open ridicule as he couldn't stop himself from laughing now.

“Didn’t those.. Heralds tell you of them? Or your tutors? I guess not, since you asked.”

Jio would not reply as he was overtaken by joy, joy at some funny thing in the fact that Damien and the other summoned seemed to not know what a Sahdun was. To those that listened carefully, they would realized that perhaps Sahdun was a term for the Snow Elves. Which Carleon would confirm.

“Snow Elves. Pale-Murderers. That is the Sahdun, hero. But you wouldn’t know, as this magical spell that translates our words cannot translate certain words, such as this one.”

Carleon would surprisingly reply calmly, albeit without much energy to his voice as he would once again hit Jio to make him stop, which wouldn’t be effective as the boy kept laughing and giggling till he ran out of breath. The magical spell that had been casted on each summoned, one that expires upon death only translated the most common of the known tongues in the world. And even still it was limited to the ones the humans of the Lonesome Frost knew about.

“It isn’t even that funny Jio.. And to answer your question Hero, we are here because of Benedict’s death.”

And at the mention of the summoned that had chosen death over capture, Jio would turn serious as he grimaced. Carleon’s expression hadn’t change at all when he first spoke, and it worried Damien to some extent. But Jasmine who had went quiet when Jio mocked them, spoke with some venom on her tone, which the two shrugged off.

“Ah the traitor that brought dishonor upon himself, by killing someone and choosing death over answering for his crime? Are you here to mourn for him then, seeing as he was your friend?”

Despite that, the two gave no reaction as Carleon continued to speak, ignoring Jasmine’s remark and causing the girl to frown. Something Damien hadn’t seen at all from knowing her.

“Just pray to that God of yours that he stays dead. Because if he isn’t dead, and if what we heard is true.. Then I hope.. That he won’t rip off those nice wings you have.”

And for the first time since they had come here, Carleon smiled as he had said the word hope in a mocking tone. Before he could reply, Sir Deren would make a sudden appearance. The royal guard would clear his throat, catching the attention of the two godless who would turn their heads to look at the knight.

“As nice as it is for you two to converse and catch up with the other summoned, the Princess had specifically asked you to wait in the royal hall. I hope you shall comply and follow me. And..”

Deren would look at Damien and Jasmine, with his voice seemingly a bit more urgent than usual.

“You two, tell the other summoned to go to the hall too. The King has called for everyone’s presence regarding an urgent matter.”

With a disinterested sigh, Jio would be the first to turn around and walk pass Deren. Grumbling something under his breath as Carleon would follow, not before letting a small remark leave his mouth.

“I see that you got yourself a girlfriend Damien, nice job.”

And as their forms would go further away, the summoned behind them that were obviously listening to the short but heated exchange would burst into open chatter. With Damien blushing a bit as he looked to Jasmine, who only shook her head.

“The command of the King means now, please worry about that remark later Damien. This matter concerns your questions a while ago.”

Shaking his head, Damien would nod as he would turn around to face his fellow summoned. As Deren himself would turn to catch up with the two godless. As he would leave the hall the summoned were gathered in, he could vaguely hear the hero say ‘Alright guys settle down.’

And with him nearing the two godless, he would notice a sheathed sword on Carleon’s waist. With a hilt and crossguard in the shape of a stylized cross. With a chain connected to its pommel, which would wrap around Carleon’s left arm.