Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 8
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I was able to get this chapter out today. It's somewhat short but I'm really tired right now so this was the longest I could go.
I should note that Demi-God is not a Race but rather a grouping of God Races. Specifically, Demi-Gods can be classified as Base, Lesser, or Common God Races
There is a poll directly above this. Next week is busy for me and I will only be able to do a Wednesday and Friday chapter. But, if you are willing, I will hold all chapters until the week following and release the rest of Arc 1 (3 or 4 chapters) as one long chapter between Monday 4/13 and Wednesday 4/15. I am leaning towards the latter but you guys are the audience so I feel as if it should be your decision.
PLEASE NOTE THE POLL
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February 14, 29 R.E.
Rajac could only stare at the man in perplexed bewilderment. A swirl of emotions began to tumble around inside of his head as he attempted to process this new information.
Not knowing what else to do, Rajac yanked off his own hood, revealing the prominent horns affixed to his own head.
The clad man only smiled, a triumphant gleam in his eyes; though, the rest of the Ventros, Rajac assumed they were at this point, took a step back in alarm. Ever since the clad man had revealed his own face, the other Ventros warriors had taken more aggressive stances, unsure of their ‘master’s’ objectives. Now, though, with Rajac’s face revealed, their aggressiveness sharpened dramatically.
“Master!” One of the men called dramatically. “This man is an impersonator working for Lord Gaya. No Ventros exist outside of the sanctuary.” Another said, scornfully, “At best he’s a half-breed. Look at how tan his skin is.”
It was true; Rajac’s skin had deepened into the color of a light leather-hide during his time in the Circle.
“He does look different.” The clad man mused as he looked Rajac over. “But, the centuries here changed us so it is only natural those who remained outside were changed as well.”
The clad man paused. “What happened to the rest of the clans? We have heard little of the outside world since we were brought here.”
Rajac shrugged, still amazed by the turn of events. “I don’t know. I am of the Rashak clan and we number few. The rest of the clans were lost to us over a century ago.”
“A sad state, truly.” The clad man said shaking his head. “Tell me, stranger, why have you come to our forest? It must have been difficult to travel this far from your homeland.”
Rajac nodded his head and briefly told the gathered Ventros about his journey, revealing only the base details. His training, he left out. Though they were his people, trust was earned by actions, not blood.
“Remarkable.” The clad man said. “You’ve been mere days away for years and we never knew.” “It wasn’t like you could have known. You’ve been in hiding for decades, at the very least.”
The clad man’s face turned ugly as his eyes flashed. “Centuries, more like. Ever since we arrived here, Lord Gaya’s men have attempted to round us up, like dogs. You’ve seen how he treats the Greater and Epic Races; Contempt breeds in this place for ancient heritages. He attempts to tarnish ours while glorifying his own.”
One of the other Ventros spit. “He’s only a Godly Lesser Race. I’ve heard he’s not even passed level 200 yet.”
“You say that if it is not a large accomplishment.” Rajac said. “It isn’t.” The clad man said. “At least, for the Godly Races. They are born having already surpassed level 100 and, immortal, they have eons to gain strength. Gaya is young and brazen. He plays in the human world while his elders turn a blind eye to his antics.”
Rajac just shrugged. Gods meant nothing to him and he doubts they ever would. In his past life, and this one, he had yet to see a being or beings that rightfully could hold the title. Many attempted to sway his belief their way; yet, all he could see was the faults in their creeds, the hypocrisy of their holy men, and the crassness of the professed deities towards all mortal men.
“Gods will play their games.” “Ha. You better hope they didn’t hear that.” The clad man laughed.
Rajac shrugged once again. He wasn’t worried any of the gods could hear or even see him. Due to Gaya’s presence, the gods’ omniscience was severely limited here. Changing the subject, Rajac said, “Why do you still stay here? With your strength, you could easily forge a path out of this prison Gaya has constructed for you.”
The clad man grimaced. “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. We warriors only number twenty.” Twenty? Rajac was sure the request had named the warriors fifty? Was it perhaps that the Ventros’ extraordinary strength made Nahail over-exaggerate the numbers of the Ventros warriors?
The clad man continued, “But our three clans, Ishan, Teras, and Manos, number eight-thousand.” Rajac’s eyes bugged out at the number. Eight-thousand Ventros still lived. An extraordinary amount of his people still lived. His heart began to well with an emotion he rarely felt-Relief.
The clad man saw Rajac’s expression and grinned, although there was a somewhat pained expression behind his eyes. “Aye. There are eight-thousand of us left. Of course, for you, it’s a large number, but for us, it’s a small percentage of what we used to be. It’s one of the reasons we guard our forest so fiercely against
anyone who enters it.” Ruffling his hair uncomfortably, the clad man said, “I think an apology is in order for that.”
The clad man stuck out his hand, “Temos.” Rajac readily accepted it, “Rajac.”
The day past joyfully as both shared stories and tales of their lives and of their people under the watchful eyes of Temos’ five students. During the entire afternoon as Rajac and Temos ate by the fireside, the five never lost their steely gazes or hostile tones. Nothing Temos or Rajac said could dissuade their temperaments.
As day fell to night, their light-hearted conversation began to turn to a more serious discussion on the state of the Ventros. “Rajac,” Temos said for the dozenth time, “I can’t allow you into the sanctuary. No matter if you are a Ventros. Perhaps, because of that. The Council will not allow it.” “But you have a seat on the Council.” Rajac protested. “You said so yourself.”
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“Only one seat of five. Though,” Temos said, bowing his head slightly as he thought, “I believe I can convey your purpose to them. The state of the Ventros has reached a point where any opportunity to increase our standing holds water. I believe I can convince the reset of the Council to leave the province. They fear Gaya. If your contact comes through, then I believe I can convince them it is a legitimate opportunity to get out from under his oppressive thumb.”
Rajac felt contentment rise up inside him at Temos’ words. It was finally happening. However, a lot had to be done before his people were truly safe. “I believe he will.” Rajac said nodding. “Alberon is an honorable man.”
Frankly, Rajac had no idea if he was. Not that it mattered. By their very nature, Identity Merchants were inquisitive creatures. If Rajac messaged him, after all this time, of course he would come.
“Good.” Temos said, a splitting-grin on his face. Soon after, he and his five students left Rajac in the clearing for the night as they went to speak to the Council.
They did not return until late the next day. But, the delay in their return was worth it. The Council had agreed to follow Rajac from the province and to his homeland on Cera Mountain.
~
Asur stirred. Something had occurred in the Mortal Realm. Something strange. He shook his head, bewildered. How did an event in the Mortal Realm reach him here? He was not even searching.
Gods were rarely surprised and for Asur, this was a first. For millennia, he had kept his peace. Residing far away from the others who kept their Courts, he had secluded himself in mediation as he tried to overcome the barriers put on the Gods by the Overlord.
He was near; he could feel a lessening of the barrier as he pushed through it like a knife cutting a slippery stick of butter. For a long moment, Asur pondered the reason the Mortal Realm could call to him now. Was it due to his training? Even he did not understand Thantos to its full extent. As he delved into a higher realm of understanding, could it be that his Omniscience became attuned to the human realm as a side-effect?
Asur felt this development was troubling enough to the point where he ceased his training completely. Something he had not done since the Demi-Gods began their war to subjugate the human realm. He had left his sanctuary, built in an Ethereal Realm, high above the Mortal Realm, Immortal Realm, and Regas Realm, to deal with the miscreants that began to upset the balance in the Mortal Realm.
It was the first and last time blood flowed from his hands as he decimated many of the elder Demi-Gods. His name had only been known to those in the Regas Realm where only the most ancient Greater and Epic Godly Races lived. They held unfathomable levels, yet, Asur far surpassed them.
While the Gods had their king, Asur would have been their Emperor if he demanded such a title. But, he never did. Ruling never suited him and he only used the power that was there for his taking once.
When the Demi-Gods reeked their havoc and Asur had to stop them before they destroyed the world itself, he forced the Gods to restrict their lessers to small pockets between the mortal kingdoms for all eternity. And his name, Asur, became synonymous was ‘Tyrant’, ‘Red Eye’, and ‘The Highest.’
Asur cared nothing for the titles the Gods threw at his feet and soon grew tired of their fascination with him.
As soon as all within the Regas Realm signed his accords restricting the Demi-Gods, Asur returned to his realm to train in peace. Until now, that was. Whatever was happening in the Mortal Realm was so disruptive to the balance that he was alerted instantly to its occurrence.
As Asur looked for the threat, he found a group of mortal men huddled around a campfire. Surprised, once again, Asur looked closer. Their fates were intertwined into a convoluted web that spoke of many things. But what was most prevalent was the symbol of an Ouroboros in all of their auras.
It was not just one of them that would provoke the balance to shift but the entire race. Intrigued, Asur looked for the other members of this mortal race. They were only a few miles distant, huddled in those structures mortals like to build to keep warm.
A vast array of movement met his eyes as he watched. Men, women, and children began to leave their hovels in droves until they formed a long, ant-like like away from their homes and towards the campfire.
They are leaving their homes, Asur thought. This was what had caused the balance to shift so drastically. Why? What could a single mortal race do to so utterly change Thantos?
Asur decided he would need to watch them further to better his understanding. He had time to decide their fate. His understanding told him the effect of this day would not be felt for a very long time. Perhaps, Asur would have already broken the limits of the Overlord by then. And then, the balance would matter not at all; he would no longer be limited by it. A smile touched his lips and he closed his eyes as he, once again, resumed his training.
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