Greetings

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Williams perspective

It's been nearly three days since we left Hearthglen. The time I've traveled with everyone has been hectic, to say the least. Fiends fought us left and right. But the farther we went, the less of the Blight we saw. Until we saw no more Blight infection tainting the forest, however, my father and I were in unfamiliar territory.

We never traveled this far out. Maybe father did, but I haven't.

Much to my surprise, the dragons never fought. From what I understand, dragons are very prideful instinctively. If I recall correctly, they are the ones who choose their partners. It struck me odd when I learned that the bonding process wasn't one of being equals.

It's a symbiotic relationship. Lord Dimmal told me that the dragon gets more powerful by being bonded to someone, and then whoever they bonded to gets their magic. Win-win for everyone. I think. I just hope Aurum is more like Eldrid.

However, due to our group's hostility, mainly because my father and I didn't like our two noble companions. Lord Dimmal had to intervene until he and my father decided we all needed to blow off steam through training. Or it was more like me being a punching bag.

"Focus, brat!" Azrael hissed at me, snapping me back to reality as she thrust her sword at me. Her expression was cold, but her eyes held a fierce gaze. I managed to evade her attack in time, allowing me to counterattack with a quick swing of my sword.

She blocked my attack with a speed that I couldn't match. My sword glided off hers as she swung back at me with an elegance that left me behooved. Our swords clashed as I intercepted her attack, bouncing off each other as she thrust her sword at me. Staying on the defensive, I dodged her attack, but she was faster than me. The moment I blocked, she pulled her sword back and thrust it at me, pushing me back as I desperately tried to block her.

She attacked relentlessly, forcing me to remain on the defensive as I desperately tried to protect myself. Each attack was precise, fast, and almost unreadable.

Almost, she suddenly overextended her arm, giving me the chance to duck as I followed up with a swift slash. She gracefully leaped back as if it was second nature to her. But I didn't let up.

Rushing at her, I tried to slash at her, only for her to block my attack, making our blades lock-in. I was much stronger than her, but she was faster with a sword. But with our swords locked, I was able to push her back. Pulling away momentarily, I quickly slammed my sword back down at her's as our swords clanged violently. She gritted her teeth in protest as she struggled to defend herself from my strength. She was forced to retreat, unable to handle my raw strength.

I pushed forward with another slash. My eyes widened as she parried my attack, making my sword glide down past her side as she spun around me, slashing my back. Her attack didn't hurt me, but I still felt it. Growling in frustration, I ran back at her, making her tense up as I tried to overwhelm her with my strength.

Without letting up, I swiped at her leg. I deduced her armor could take it, but she deflected my attack with a fancy spin before it hit. She countered immediately, slicing at me, forcing me to duck over her sword. She swiped repeatedly, causing me to keep ducking side to side.

I didn't have time to block all of her attacks, so when the moment came, I immediately kicked her in the gut, pushing her away as she let out a loud grunt.

Taking the time to collect my footing, I saw Azrael was displeased as she charged at me. Her sword glowed a white-tinted color, possibly enchanting it with her ice magic. I responded by channeling magic into my arm and sword.

Our swords clashed, and the sound of ice shattering echoed around us. My hands throbbed from the attack, the air turning cold as fog formed from our breaths. Despite countering her attack, I felt slower than before.

Before I could recover, Azrael thrusts her blade at me again. Grunting out of annoyance at being unable to stay on the offensive, I side-feint a block, making her change her sword's trajectory. With the turn of events, I stepped into her, ramming my shoulder into her, pushing her back. But she countered with a quick slash at me.

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I jumped back, giving myself more distance from her to plan an attack. "You like your space? Then have some!" She yelled with a triumphant smile as she lunged at me, imbuing magic into her sword again as I used the blunt side of mine to block. Our swords clashed, metal scraping metal, but her attack was too strong for me to block as my arms protested from the strength.

Before I knew it, Azrael sent me flying back away from her. Landing on my feet, I saw her face return to its typical fiery, cold stare as she thrust her sword at me again. However, I was able to sidestep enough so I could grab her.

Her eyes widened in shock and distraught as I lifted her off the ground and then slammed her back down. She grunted loudly, groaning as she rubbed the back of her head. I could only imagine how that felt.

Chuckling loudly, I tried to collect my breathing as I heaved loudly. As I glanced down at Azrael, I saw her glistening with sweat and streaked with dirt. She looked up at me with an angry, rosy look. "What type of dragon rider fights so barbarically?"

I flashed her a smirk, "When does the Blight fight honorably?" Walking over to her, I offered her a hand. As much as I hated nobles like her, it was the right thing to do. She looked at me oddly. The next thing I knew, my foot slipped as I fell face-first into solid ice. Stars formed as I closed my eyes tightly. I suddenly felt a sharp object jab me in the gut, launching me back to my feet.

I stumbled slightly, trying to get my footing as I opened my eyes. I saw a pillar of ice where I was. Azrael was grinning at me brightly. "Thanks for the tip, but don't compare me to the blight." She spoke in a demanding voice that was more playful than what I'm used to.

Smirking back, I charged at her, bringing my sword down and swinging it wide onto her. She blocked my strike, holding her sword by the blade and the handle. The ground beneath her cracked from the stress.

I am tired playing defensive.

Without giving her time to think, I pulled my sword away as I kicked her, sending her tumbling back. I didn't let up. I ran at her, and she stood back up. She sent a few icicles at me, but I struck them down with my sword. She panicked as I tackled her to the ground. I tried to grab her hands and pin them to the ground, but my hands froze immediately, causing crackling pain to rise up my arms.

Azrael took advantage of this, flipping us over as she managed to disarm me and bring her sword to my throat.

We panted heavily, she more than me, as we looked at each other. "That wasn't conventional," Azrael said with every breath as she moved her sword away. She slumps back onto my lap, relaxing as she lets out a long exhale. She seemed very worn out.

I could feel her weight on me as we both caught our breaths. She was much lighter than I was. "Ya, ya, get off of me," I said reluctantly. As much as it is a fantasy of marrying an elf, this wasn't the time or place.

Watching her slide off of me, I looked over to see my father smirking at me.

I mouthed at him to "fuck off," making him laugh.

This isn't the time.

Lord Dimmal and Thomas sat beside him, eating one of the rations. He seemed satisfied with the sparring match. Much to my annoyance, my father has been using these times to test me. Sometimes, I feel like he enjoys doing it.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead, letting out a long breath as my heart pounded. I took a good look at our current shelter once more. We made camp inside a magically made dome made by my father. Like all the other times, Thomas made the light sources using his magic. The dome was a simple earth-made dome meant to cover a decent-sized area, enough to allow enough room for four people, two horse-sized dragons, one baby dragon, and sufficient to train in.

"Will, what happened?" my father asked me as I sat up. My body aches slightly as I finally get my heart under control. "You usually fight more aggressively. You seemed more defensive."

I sighed loudly as I got to my feet. "She was too fast. I couldn't keep up half the time."

Sliding my sword back into its scabbard on my back, I walked over to my father, standing next to him and Azrael. "Just because she is faster doesn't mean anything. There were moments when you took the initiative, like kicking or grabbing Azrael." My father explained. "But you never once took the initiative to change the flow of combat until the end. What else did you see during the fight?"

My brows wrinkled as I thought hard throughout the fight. I couldn't think of anything off the top of my head. I presume my father wanted me to figure out Azrael's fighting style. "She thrusted her sword at me a lot."

My father nods at me. "Yes. However, she didn't just thrust a lot at you. It would help if you had more situational awareness. Your perspective isn't terrible outside of combat, but you tend to lose yourself during it. I can't tell whether it's confidence, ego, battle-hungry, or anger. Considering how you behave, it could be all in one." My father stood up and started to demonstrate how Azrael fought. "Azrael had speed over you, relying on quick and precise thrust. Each thrust was meant to make you react so she could use a magic attack to overpower you. Your strength and fighting style were what allowed you to keep up."

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"What sword style did you teach William, Mr Hunter?" Lord Dimmal suddenly asked.

My father responded eagerly, "Nightguard style. It's a common style of fighting. I specifically taught Will the Nightguard Striker Sword Form Three, which is known for its unique skill uses."

Thomas huffed at my father. "Doesn't every adventurer know the Nightguard style to some degree?" Thomas was obviously trying to talk down to me.

My father, though, had other plans.

"It's common for adventurers cause it's easy to change and adjust on the fly for personal use, which is why the Nightguard has different forms and weapon styles. And it's helpful when changing from fighting monsters to people." My father explained logically. "Form three of the striker style takes Will's magic-enhanced body into account. When Will uses a skill, it's immediate. There isn't a delay time or a drawback, so the form would make it feel more natural to use than applying it to a different form where the skill can't be applied as easily. This would alter the individual style and have them readjust themselves."

Listening to my father, Lord Dimmal stood up. "Dragon Knight's fighting style is used to overwhelm an enemy with incredible magic power, either offensively or defensively, depending on the weapon. This style of fighting is powerful if done correctly. Especially against the Blight." Lord Dimmal turned to Azrael. "Don't get too comfortable with the basic form. Staying close to your roots is good, but doing so will make you predictable. Unlike a fiend, a Blight Rider isn't clueless. Don't be afraid to be creative like William and step out of your comfort zone."

Azrael nodded in understanding as she rubbed her arm. Thomas, however, looked very displeased. My father humbled him real quick. I only understood some of what he said, but I got the point.

Dragon Knight fighting styles are all about power, and my fighting style is about using my body to its fullest potential.

Aurum came running over to me as I sat down to relax. She crawled into my lap almost like a puppy. Surprisingly, she has gotten bigger. She was as big as a small cat almost before; now, she is as big as a small dog, taking up my whole lap.

I placed my hand on her side, caressing her as I enjoyed the smoothness of her golden scales. I can feel her purring loudly as her emotions flow into me.

Happy. Satisfaction.

I turned my attention to the sounds of deep, loud groans and bellows from the other dragons as they snapped at each other. Both seemed agitated, Razarin more than Azrael's dragon, stomping its feet into the ground as it scorched the floor beneath him.

"Razarin was wondering how much longer?" Thomas spoke. "He's aggravated about having to carry all the bags."

"Tomorrow we will be in Asgard." My father answered immediately.

Azrael's dragon whined as Razarin snorted at us, smoke plumed out of its nose. "Once in Asgard, we will head to the closest town. There, we will lay low and allow Mr. Hunter into the guild, where they will make a letter to Azrael's father." Lord Dimmal explained, looking suspicious as if he and my father had already planned this.

When did he plan this out?

Azrael yelled at Lord Dimmal, "You want us to stay back and let him send the letter himself? He could sell us all out!" Her usual cold demeanor was replaced by the fiery attitude she had back in Hearthglen.

"Or better yet, give away our position," Thomas added, edging Azrael on as she balled her hand into a fist.

Lord Dimmal glared at the both of them. "You want people to see us? We are Dragon Riders. Even if they can't tell, we aren't exactly walking around dressed like normal people or adventurers."

Lord Dimmal was right. He, Thomas, and Azrael don't look normal. People would know they were foreigners if not nobles, and the armor would be a dead giveaway of where they were from.

"So Will and I will go in first and send your letter. You better start writing, Princess," my father said, giving Azrael a sarcastic voice about her title as Princess. We leave at sunrise."

I turned to Azrael as we both looked at each other. I gave her a look of sympathy. Sure, I don't like her, but this was quite abrupt. They didn't mention splitting the group.

Azrael didn't look great, and I could tell something was bothering her by her rubbing her arm. She seemed anxious as she turned away, probably going off to write a letter.

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We took off early in the morning, with me leading the way. The air felt very different, as if something lingered after every breath or movement, like a pressure that pressed down on everything we did. But it didn't hinder our movements or processes.

The moment I felt it, the world changed. There were fewer bushes and more spacing between each tree. The color of the ground was dark brown but looked incredibly soft, ready to be dug at any moment. Better yet, it is prepared to be used for farming. The grass and trees had a vibrant green to them, having a form of elegance and beauty. The sun beamed down on us as if someone was cradling our faces with their warm presence.

What the hell is happening?

"We have entered Asgard; keep moving forward, " my father explained, which makes sense. I recall Asgard having a higher concentration of Ether, which would explain what's happening to our surroundings, as Ether tends to affect the environment.

The next moment, we came into a clearing with tall grass that moved with the wind in an almost peaceful way—untouched by the Blight.

Why doesn't the Blight come north?

Afraid

Aurum's emotions flowed into me, giving the form of a simple thought that left me confused.

Afraid? Afraid of what….

Power

Power? What power?

Before I could get an answer, a sudden voice boomed over the field. "There you all are!" We stopped moving as the man approached us. The sudden voice alerted us all.

We weren't expecting anyone to be here. This throws the plan out the window.

The stranger walked over, kicking the grass out of his way. Everyone was one guard, even the dragons, as they began to growl violently at the man. It was like everyone was ready for the worst. As he got closer, I could see more of his appearance. He was slightly smaller than my father, having almost similar hairstyles, except his brown hair was wild, not shaved down on the sides and not slicked back. His eyes were practically amber-like, and he had a clean face. His face was so clean it felt odd. His nose was sharp, and his chin was smooth and round. His slightly tanned skin looked almost similar to my own.

The man wore a dark gray leather coat stretching past his waist. The coat was opened to reveal a cuirass covering his entire upper chest, exposing his neck as more minor plated armor dripped down from the cuirass. The shirt underneath was a simple white shirt tucked into his utility belt, which was wrapped around his black pants. The sleeves near the upper arms had straps that held items that I can't say for sure what they were. The pants seemed tactical by design, slightly baggy, with extra pockets and straps to carry knives or small equipment. This is where I noticed the bottom ends of his coat were slanted so that they curved back up behind him while it was longer and sharpened down in the front. His boots were simple leather work boots, designed almost flawlessly to handle stress.

"I waited for four days for anyone," the man said with a calm smile that shook my father.

My father stood before us all as I heard Lord Dimmal approaching me from behind. My father readied his bow-staff as I looked back at the dragons who all seemed to be on edge. Both Azrael and Thomas seemed confused. Lord Dimmal's eyes were opened wide in shock, his legs shaking as if he saw a ghost.

Lord Dimmal walked past me, his sword drawn as he spoke. "How did you know we were coming, stranger?" His voice was no longer the calm one I was used to.

The stranger pointed behind him as he answered, "We started noticing Blight signatures popping up south from us. Then, two Titan energy sources. We assumed the worst and waited for any survivors."

"Then where are the rest of your people!" my father shouted, readying a magic arrow to fire. This made me spring into action, pulling out my sword from my sheath. The sound of weapons being unsheathed

The man peculiarly looked at us. "Guys, you don't want to go down that route. Trust me, it ain't worth it, especially to the dragons. I heard experiencing death without dying is," the man paused for a moment as he let out a chuckle. "Life-changing." The man smirked at us.

I had no idea what was happening as I looked at Lord Dimmal nervously as what the man said was pointed at him. Lord Dimmal seemed very nervous; his hand trembled as sweat dripped from his brow.

That's when I realized my father had not detected him. My father spent the last few days detecting the Blight fiends for us, but not this simple guy.

"Who are you?" Thomas asked slowly, breaking the silence as my father stepped back. That simple movement sent a chill down my spine. My father never backed down from a fight. Nothing had happened, yet this random guy was scaring him and Lord Dimmal.

My heart began to race as the man spoke. "My friends call me Markus." His voice was smooth, devoid of fear or concern for his own well-being. The sound alone sent goosebumps up my arm.

"Oh no," Azrael mumbled. I looked back to see her trembling on her dragon. That's when I realized something. I, along with Thomas and Azrael, didn't know who Markus was. But they both seemed just as nervous as I was.

The dragons, Lord Dimmal, and my father knew who this "Markus" was.

God

My breathing started to pick up as I heard Aurum whine in Azrael's hand. I could tell both Thomas and Azrael were ready to fly back to the capital. Whatever the dragons told them wasn't good. My father kept his arrow prepared as he and Lord Dimmal started to step back.

"Everyone else calls me the Immortal God of War," were the last words that came out of this man's mouth.

My eyes went wide in shock. I had heard rumors of Markus, but I didn't think we were going to run into him himself. The man who slain the Wolf King. I didn't know much about how big that was, but it was big enough to scare my father and Lord Dimmal.

"Markus, you're scaring them," a female voice said from behind him. It was a very gentle voice compared to Markus's eerie, relaxed voice. "Let me talk."

Markus sighed as he brought his hand behind him, startling us all. That's when he revealed a head. A female head.

What the fuck? Why is he carrying a head?

"I'm very sorry for my companion. My name is Luna, and long story short, we need you to come with us," she said, shocking all of us.

It's a talking head.

"Especially when we aren't meant for you; we are meant for the three behind you all," Markus said, pointing towards us.

The three behind us?

We all hesitated initially, but my father was the first to look back, which triggered everyone else. Gazing at the forest behind us, I soon realized the sound of the wind and bugs were gone—like they didn't exist. Everything was quiet as we stared back into the forest. The forest seemed darker, gloomy, and haunting—as if the world went still. If someone dropped a needle, we would hear it.

Something was there. I could feel it.

Razarin and Azrael's dragon started slowly walking away from the forest, hissing at something. That's when I heard Aurum yelp out with concern. Her emotions flowed into me.

Smell. Humans.

Smell? Humans?

Aurum is smelling humans. How didn't the other dragons not smell them earlier? Something isn't right. It was obvious that something was there now. The world was changing. As if the magic that dwelled in this area was moving. The trees, the leaves, and everything else were more vibrant, as if something was influencing the sudden change. I couldn't describe it, but I knew deep down in my gut that something was wrong.

That's when a familiar face appeared, sending me back to when Hearthglen was still around. The time when my father went out to hunt. When I hung out with Bide.

"Hello, Little Will," said Aunt Sifle.