Owen returned to the mountain. On the way, he noticed that a lot of the builders and Warriors—orcs included—watched him carefully. The orcs looked at him as a strong warrior, but there was something hidden beneath their gaze.

Is it because of the fight with Rek’ka? Owen thought. Pyris had to bail him out. And although as a Spectre, she was one part of his strength, the orcs wouldn’t see it that way. The fact was, to them, he had to be rescued. To an orcen lord, to them, that was a shame worse than death.

But Owen wasn’t too worried about that. There would be plenty of time to demonstrate his power. Especially now that he had not one Lord Emblem, but two. He had devoured the Lord orcs' strength, and now it was his own.

At least for now, the orcs wouldn’t act.

Heading into the passageways of the mountain; which were increasing by the hour. Owen’s previous words were true. As a Lord, his duty wasn’t only on the battlefield—it was making sure his people were well fed, watered, and happy.

His units would come to trust the orcs in time, and vice versa. But their morale had to be increased now. There were many ways to do that, and he had a lot of them in his mind. Entertainment, whether that be music, fights, or plays.

But there was one that was at the forefront of his mind. One that he had sorely missed the luxury of—a bath. Pyris had the right idea. It would be more like a spring. A cold one, since the water was coming from deep underground. But to get away from the sun for a bit and relax in cool water? That was a good way of calming the mind.

So that’s what he did. He picked one room in particular to be the bath. A few hours later, he had a well set-up that spilled over the edge, making a large pool the size of half a football field. He had also installed a drain system of simple construction. It was literally just a plug at the bottom of the pool. Every other day, or every day, depending on how much use it had, it would have to be cleaned out and filled back up again.

He called in the warriors first. They looked confused at the start, and then by some sort of primal instinct, they all jumped in. They wrestled each-other, throwing one another into the pool. Everyone was laughing. Mirian sat in the corner, watching as a small smile emerged. Pyris was also standing near the entrance, watching the fun.

Rohan grabbed hold of Owen, and pulled… But he didn’t even budge. The strength the orcen Lord had gifted him was far too much for a Scout to contest with.

“Blimey, you’ve grown strong,” He said, face turning red as he put all his strength into his arms. “Thorin, help me out here!”

Thorin, the oversized centaur, laughed and trotted over, grabbing hold of Owen, and pushed. Thorin was on one side, and Rohan was on the other.

“Oh no you don’t,” Owen chuckled and fought against them. He grabbed hold of Rohan and yanked him, sending him hurtling into the pool. Rohan emerged, swinging back his long hair.

“Men,” Rohan shouted with a cheeky smile, pointing at Levi. “Get him!”

The Warriors and Hunters hesitated at first, but seeing their Lord’s goading smirk, they quickly gathered around Owen, pulling, and pushing.

“Help,” Owen said over his shoulder at Pyris.

“You got yourself into this mess,” she said, smiling. “You can get out of it yourself.”

With a final push with the combined might of half of his fighting force, they managed to throw Owen into the pool. Owen emerged with a sadistic grin. “Now that’s it,” he said, wading through the water. “It’s war.”

Owen against everyone, he won in the end, flinging everyone into the water. What was once clear and pure, was now mirky and bottomed with sand.

Now, it was Pyris’ turn. He approached her with a playful smile. Whereas her smile vanished, and she bent her knees in preparation for a battle. A familiar seriousness emerged that he had only seen when she had fought against the orc Lord.

“Dont,” She said in warning.

“Aw,” Owen said, rubbing his nose. “Afraid of a little water?”

She twitched her ears.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Wait,” he pressed with surprise. “You really can’t swim?”

Pyris looked at the water and then shook her head.

“Well, that’s something I can teach you,” Owen said. “Then how about this; you teach me how to fight, and I’ll teach you how to swim. Deal?”

She thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

Just as Owen and Pyris were about to shake hands, both of them felt a distant tremble in the earth. All the other Warriors, Rohan, and Mirian included, failed to notice it. Owen was well attuned to his body, maybe more than most because of his potent reflexes. Pyris noticed it also because of her senses. A few trembles, more, and everyone in the room now knew about. They grabbed their weapons from the side of the pool.

“Steps?” Owen asked Pyris.

She nodded. “It sounds like it.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she was already darting through the passageways. Owen was right behind her. Together, they emerged from the mountain and bolted towards the wall. Reaching the top, they scanned the sands, but couldn’t see anything. Draed was already here as it was his turn to watch.

Owen called upon the rest of the forces.

“The orcs?” Owen asked.

Draed spoke up. “Already left for their previous camp.”

Owen searched for them, but could spot them on the sand. It meant that they had made it. “Get ready,” Owen said to everyone on top of the wall, and below it. “Whatever is approaching, other monsters will be chased away. Some will come here. Archers, at the ready.”

All the archers prepared their bows. Owen cursed. This just had to happen when both of his mages were gone. Ignoring the unfortunate timing, all he could do was steel himself, and rouse the spirits of his forces.

With each earth shaking tremble, Owen tensed further. Many enemies; demi-gods, devils, flashed in his mind as the endless possibilities of what it could be, and it gnawed at him. Depending on what it was, not even his mountain born of incredibly dense rock and metal could resist against it.

Vaedrith, the Unseen Nightmare?

Thorax, the Eternal Maw?

…Or Tarnis, the Boundless?

No, that last one was impossible. At least it should be, for the next few years… Whatever it was, Owen first had to survive against whatever was running away in fear. Three scarlet crabs emerged in the distance and were rapidly approaching, kicking up a trail of sand behind them.

Elena, Draed, and the other archers pulled back their bow strings in preparation.

“Lome, Pyris, Thorin, target the ones on the right,” Owen said, summoning Heartseeker’s Edge.. “I’ll tkae out the one on the left. I want to test just how much stronger I’ve gotten.”

“Be careful,” Pyris reminded him.

“I will.”

Owen leapt off the wall, falling 15 feet down, and landing on the sand. His knees bent, but otherwise the drop had no effect on his current body. He launched himself forwards, sprinted across the sands, the bell tied to his waist dancing a tune.

In between the thudding steps from the mysterious beast, Owen’s heart smashed against his chest, matching its own overwhelming might.

Nearing the scarlet crab, the monster snapped its pincers at Owen, threatening to cleave him in two. He dodged it and replied with a swing of his sword. His blade cleaved into the shell, and sparks flew. But even with the strength he had gained from the Lord, it wasn’t enough to penetrate its chitinous armour.

Owen expected that. Faster than the crab could react, Owen aimed for its leg this time, swinging his sword in a tight arc, carving a bloody wound into the gap in between its tough exterior. Blood oozed from the wound.

The scarlet crab thrashed, spinning, trying its best to claim Owen. However, Owen’s reflexes were just as sharp as his blade. Owen knew where the pincers were coming from, and so he was ready. He parried the incoming strike, the force bearing down on his arms, and when the attack had passed, leapt up onto the crab’s body. With a grunt, Owen gathered his strength, not sparing an ounce. Owen stabbed his sword into the beast's eye quicker than the monster could react. The tip of the blade glided through one of its fleshy eyes, and descended into its brain, killing it immediately.

Owen looked over at the other two. Pyris had already killed her own, one of its eyes was clutched in her bloody grip. She stood, waiting for what was coming.

Thorin and Lome battled the last remaining scarlet crab. They struggled. Not because they were weak, although that was part of it. But because they simply didn’t have the overwhelming might to crack its armour with their large weapons.

With the support of the archers, Lome climbed up on the crab’s exterior, and finished it off with a barrage of mighty blows. Shell cracked where it was the weakest, and blood splattered his white bones.

Owen turned his attention to the horizon. The thudding steps were growing ever closer—and then he saw it. A head emerged. A head that turned gigantic amongst the haze of the horizon. A titanic golem stomped into view, with lines carved into its body like sculpted tattoos. It had three eyes, although they were only stone. It was also missing a hand.

A description appeared in Owen’s mind.

The Lone Wanderer, damned to travel the Cursed Lands for an eternity. No one knew where it came from, how it came to be, or what master created it. There was only one irrefutable truth: the wanderer never stopped.

Perched on the shoulder of the giant, his medium black hair tousled by the wind, stood Justin Becker. A side character. An antagonist. Dark-hearted, with a temper that even the demi-gods feared. But beneath that fiery exterior… he was simply misunderstood.

Owen’s grin widened. And he was going to be his friend.