The rays of the morning sun washed over the tranquil forest, evaporating the beads of morning dew. A chorus of birds soon followed as the world awoke from its slumber, promising another day of warmth. The gentle rustling of leaves accompanied this symphony, forming a natural musical theatre.
On this peaceful morning, Ij'gne woke up in his humble abode and prepared himself for the day. After donning coarse robes and washing his face with lukewarm water from a basin, Ij'gne left for his morning duties.
As he walked along the cobblestone path, many villagers greeted him respectfully before returning to their agricultural tasks. They had been working tirelessly since dawn and were now taking a short meal break. They needed this replenishment to finish their work before the sun peaked and the day became too hot.
A kind baker offered him some coarse cornbread and a cup of murky ale, which he graciously accepted. This was their standard breakfast, and Ij'gne valued it very much.
His destination was a colossal tree that towered above everything else, seemingly acting as a bridge between the ground and the sky. The crown of the tree was hidden behind the clouds, but the visible branches spread outward for kilometers, creating an expansive canopy that cast a vast shadow on the land below.
Its massive leaves, the size of houses, waved in the air, guiding the currents to maintain the favorable weather. The tree was ancient and could be seen for miles on end, even amidst the forested terrain.
This was their World Tree, and it was Ij'gne's job, as one of its three high priests, to take care of its every need. As he approached, a floral scent lingered in the air, intoxicating its beholder.
A sense of comfort washed over Ij'gne as he entered its shade, similar to how one would feel returning to a mother's embrace. He climbed over the living hills that were the tree's roots and approached a stone chapel fused into the bark's side. A fellow priest greeted him and passed him some fruit offerings the size of human heads.
Ij'gne thanked the man and took the fruits to an altar on top of a narrow canal leading into the soil beneath. He fastened the fruits onto the altar and clasped his hands to pray.
"O Great and Ancient World Tree,
O mighty world tree,
We gather beneath you to give our thanks,
For all the protection you've granted us,
For the shade and harvest you've bestowed,
And for the prosperity we've chanced upon.
O mighty world tree,
Let us offer our gratitude,
So that you may live long and strong,
Beyond our dearest generations,
And witness a world of your making."
Finishing his prayer, Ij'gne covered the fruits with a rectangular block and pressed down hard. Multiple loud crunches sounded as the outer shells broke apart, crushing the interiors and releasing the fruit's juices. Ij'gne applied more force, turning the fruits into pulp. A glossy red liquid flowed down the canal, enriching the soil that fed their World Tree.
Ij'gne lifted the block and carefully wiped down the altar, ensuring not even a stain remained. He then took the fruit pulp outside and buried it in a spot that hadn’t received this nourishment that week. Afterward, he gathered his cleaning tools and picked up any unwanted debris. For some reason, new rubble always seemed to appear every day.
Ij'gne didn’t mind the repetitive nature of this task and performed it faithfully, seeing it as a leisurely time to commune with his lord. After confirming everything was in order, he returned the tools to their original positions and headed back to his home.
By this time, it was already noon, and the shade offered solace from the searing sun. In this peaceful moment, Ij'gne began reminiscing about his past and how he became the World Tree’s oracle.
Things hadn’t always been this peaceful. There used to be countless heavens scheming to bring down their lord. It was so hectic that it felt like the entire world was against them.
Fortunately, Ij'gne had cleansed them all since his inauguration, becoming the first priest to fulfill his sacred duty and expand his lord's influence. And all of this began when he was a mere teenager of fifteen, devoid of strength and ignorant of the truth.
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"Marry me, Stella," a young Ij'gne proposed to his childhood crush and village belle.
Stella averted her gaze, her emotions complicated, and shook her head. "Ij'gne... I... I can't," she finally uttered.
"Oh," Ij'gne responded, his expression downcast. The rejection didn’t surprise him since he had expected it, but he wanted to try anyway. They were at the age of marriage and needed to select their partners soon. In their world, the average life expectancy of common folk was merely 30, so they couldn't afford to delay.
Ij'gne knew he didn’t stand a chance compared to the other eligible candidates. He was feeble and lacked property. He couldn’t even provide for himself, let alone a wife or family. Essentially, he was among the lower castes of society. This couldn’t be helped since he was an orphan and had to fend for himself.
His development had been stunted by hunger, and his height was in the lower percentile compared to others his age. He had been dealt a bad hand from the start, and the differences only grew from there. At this moment, he was getting by as a herb picker, living meal by meal.
Every day, he would leave the confines of the village to scavenge for medicinal plants for trading or wild berries to fill his stomach. If he was lucky, he would find a ripe fruit to satisfy his hunger for a few hours. Otherwise, he had to make do with whatever bitter plants he could find.
His lack of botanical knowledge didn’t help the situation since he couldn’t distinguish between safe and poisonous plants. Hence, he stayed clear of the unknown, often resorting to tree bark and wet moss on some unlucky days.
Meat was non-existent in his life, which was one of the main reasons for his malnutrition. This eventually fed into a vicious cycle, causing him to grow weaker by the day. That’s not to mention the dangers of venturing into the forest alone, where a single bad encounter could mean his death. However, Ij'gne didn’t have much of a choice.
He needed to do this if he wanted to survive. The village was so poor that he couldn’t even steal any if he wanted to. People simply didn’t leave spare food lying around in places that could be easily accessed. Plus, given his frail body, it would take a miracle to succeed.
In the face of Stella’s rejection, Ij'gne hung his head and ventured out once more. This time, however, there was no will to survive or hope of returning. What was the point of continuing a miserable existence that only led to more despair?
Driven by this sentiment, he wandered deeper into the forest than ever before and soon lost his way. He ignored the growls of threatening predators and continued walking absentmindedly. By some stroke of luck, none of the wildlife disturbed him, and he eventually entered a clearing where a slouched-over figure lay.
Ij'gne was startled by the sight but quickly realized the hooded man wasn’t breathing. In his state of apathy, Ij'gne approached the corpse and began searching through its belongings. The black cloak draped over the body was tattered and reeked of decay, offering no value whatsoever.
He peeled back the cloth to reveal the gear underneath. The deceased had an arsenal of powerful items, the likes of which Ij'gne had never seen. There were striped shoulder pads made of hard keratin, resembling the material of beast claws. It was very firm to the touch and clung to the body like a second skin.
Next, he noticed a metallic pendant nestled between the shoulder blades, which flickered in the sunlight, highlighting its circuit-like patterns. However, the lines were dim, indicating that the item had long since lost its power.
Further down was an ivory-like armguard adorned with a faint Kraken pattern. This depiction was foreign to Ij'gne, who had never seen the sea, but he still felt unease emanating from it. It was as if the armguard embodied death itself, full of menacing triggers. For safety’s sake, Ij'gne opted not to touch this piece.
Below the armguard, on the back of the man's hand, was an ink tattoo of three barbed lines. This design was peculiar, but it lent a sense of serenity that somewhat balanced the menacing atmosphere of the armguard. This was visible through the ripped gloves covering the hands.
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Nearby lay a purple saber adorned with vicious-looking spikes. Ij'gne attempted to lift it, but it was too heavy for him.
Finally, there were twin daggers strapped close to the thighs, as if they had slipped unwillingly from their owner’s grasp. They were the only items Ij'gne managed to salvage, as the others were too difficult to remove.
"I don’t know who you are, but may you rest now. The dangers of the forest are not to be underestimated," Ij'gne bowed and headed toward a nearby stream.
The daggers were caked in blood and dirt and needed a good cleaning before he could use them. Otherwise, they would pollute anything he cut, rendering it inedible.
Following the sound of the water, Ij'gne soon found a shallow stream to dip the blades in. However, this did little to clean them, as the grime was thick enough to form a makeshift sheath around the metal. Ij'gne ground the two daggers against each other, slowly scraping the layers off.
'What happened to them?' he wondered. 'How did they accumulate so much filth?'
Half an hour later, the nearby water had turned murky brown, and Ij'gne held two gleaming weapons. They fit snugly into his hands as if they had always been meant for him.
'The blacksmith behind these did a good job. I hope they’re still sharp because I don't have any money to get them sharpened.'
Ij'gne tested the daggers on a nearby tree and watched in astonishment as they glided through the wood effortlessly. It was as if he was cutting water rather than dense timber.
"What the?" he exclaimed, shocked that the daggers retained their sharpness so well.
Ij'gne had an inkling that these daggers were far more extraordinary than he initially thought, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on this revelation. The heavy footsteps and rustling leaves alerted him to an approaching intruder, prompting him to leave the vicinity immediately.
As he slipped away, he glimpsed an orange hide with glaring black stripes through the narrow gaps in the leaves. Ij'gne was lucky the beast hadn’t noticed him or he would be facing an ambush right now.
After reaching a safe location, Ij'gne finally realized he was lost. This wouldn't matter if it was before, but Ij'gne had now awakened from his depression and gained a will to survive. After all, death is scary. Who would want to die if they had a choice?
Ij'gne parsed through his blurry memories and tried his best to retrace his path. However, it was difficult for an untrained teen like Ij'gne to orient himself amidst the sea of trees. Consequently, he strayed off course and took a path that would overshoot the village.
A few hours into his journey, Ij'gne's stomach growled with hunger. He hadn't eaten anything the entire day and urgently needed some food. With no choice, Ij'gne stripped the bark off some nearby trees and forced himself to swallow his unsavory meal. From experience, this was the easiest way to eat them since the bark was too hard to chew. Any attempt to do so would result in a sore jaw and chipped teeth on unlucky occasions.
As the sun slipped behind the distant trees and the sky turned orange, Ij'gne found a damaged stone petroglyph in an open ruin. The top right corner was broken off, but most of the text could still be seen. For some unknown reason, Ij'gne understood these words despite being illiterate and having never seen these characters before.
Approacheth thy lord with a heart devout, and he shalt bestow upon thee strength unimaginable. But if thou stainest thy heart with heresy, beware, for he hath the power to revoke what he hath bequeathed.
Below this text was a picture of a large tree, surrounded by devout worshippers praying for prosperity. Ij'gne didn't think much about the strange mural and entered to escape the buzzing bugs. His legs were full of mosquito bites after walking for the whole day and he would accept any respite. A few minutes in, he encountered another petroglyph, which he read out of boredom.
In times of plight, when thou art at thy wit's end, call out unto yon tree, and it shall hearken thy plea. Offer up thy heart, become devout, and it shall deliver thee from crise.
Ij'gne saw a few more glyphs with similar messages along the way, but he ignored them after the fifth one. Fortunately, he also found fruit trees bearing plump pears, which he ravenously devoured for dinner.
Night soon approached and Ij'gne gathered some dry grass for a makeshift bed. However, his night was a restless one due to his fear of being attacked in his sleep. After countless tossing and turnings, the sun finally rose and a wave of fatigue crashed into him.
Ij'gne tried getting a few more hours of sleep, but the brightness kept him awake. After a while, he gave up and rose from his position, his clothes filled with grass that prickled his skin. He shook off all this chaff and plucked a few more fruits before continuing his journey. In a stroke of luck, he corrected his path and entered familiar lands. By the end of the day, he'd returned to the village and continued his life as usual.
Ij'gne would occasionally see Stella around town, selling produce, but their relationship had soured by now and made their interactions awkward. It didn't help that her husband was a chicken farmer and periodically accompanied her in her sales.
They were quickly drifting apart, with Stella moving on in life and having kids the following year while Ij'gne stagnated in his usual activities. His life had become a quagmire and he could not get out.
The daggers were a great addition to his life, greatly easing his efforts in scavenging. To this day, he had yet to find anything they couldn't cut. He grew so fond of them that they rarely left his side, even accompanying him in sleep. They provided a sense of comfort in his hectic life and helped him appreciate the beauties of living.
In an attempt to improve his living standards, Ij'gne applied to be an apprentice to a furniture maker. This was relatively easy for him since the daggers could make up for his frailness, allowing him to channel all his focus into carving the aesthetics. Ij'gne enjoyed this process quite a bit and it became his purpose in life.
After six months under the furniture maker, Ij'gne resigned to pursue wood carving. Compared to the grueling hours spent on processing the final product, he preferred to focus on the artistic aspects and delegate the "grunt work" to the others.
Unfortunately, this plan failed because of the village's poverty. Due to their struggles, many people would rather spend their hard-earned money on something practical than a piece of art in their homes, especially when Ij'gne charged a similar price. There was simply no demand for his works. In the end, Ij'gne had to sell his pieces at a pitiful price and earnestly return to furniture crafting.
Time passed peacefully in this manner. It was quite an enjoyable period, one that Ij'gne was happy to repeat. However, everything changed one day when a grizzly bear attacked, plunging the settlement into chaos. On this fateful morning, Ij'gne ran out to witness a gruesome scene: the bear mauling several villagers to death.
Among these casualties was Stella's husband, leaving his former crush widowed with three children. Yet this hardly mattered at this moment because the bear was heading right for her. Stella's eyes widened with horror, but her body refused to move. Terror had paralyzed her muscles and made her a sitting duck.
As the bear approached to finish her off, a rock smashed into its face, eliciting a wrathful roar. Turning to the source, the bear saw Ij'gne throwing another rock before shouting, "Come at me, you bastard!"
Then he turned and ran towards the outskirts of the village. The bear roared again and charged at him with brutal momentum, threatening to crush anything in its path. As this unfolded, Ij'gne inwardly panicked, questioning why he had taken action at all. In all honesty, he didn't know the answer himself; his body had moved before his mind even registered his act.
If he had to pinpoint a reason, it would be his buried love for Stella. Perhaps it had finally exploded after being suppressed for so long. Maybe he just wanted to perform one final act for her. Or maybe he was simply a fool, endangering himself for a distant acquaintance. It was unknown which of these scenarios Ij'gne fit into, but he didn't regret his actions in the slightest.
Ij'gne ran for his life, vaulting over sturdy roots and fallen trees with pumped adrenaline. However, the bear stayed on his track, easily pushing aside any obstacles.
His breath grew hurried as his weak physique began catching up to him, causing his steps to falter and the distance to narrow. His lungs burned with piercing pain, but he forced himself to continue running. That was the only thing he could do if he didn't want to experience the same death as the villagers.
His legs buckled several times, but he managed to stay upright by failing his arms for balance. Unfortunately, his luck eventually ran out and he tripped on a protruding rock, sending him sliding forward. Large rashes and bits of mangled skin broke out across his knees and elbows, bringing him immense pain.
*ROOOAAAWWWWW*
The bear pounced at him, seeking to crush his skull. Ij'gne rolled aside just in time and sustained a cut on his cheek from a stray projectile. Suddenly, he collided with a wall, halting his retreat closer than he hoped. As he got onto his feet, he realized he'd rolled himself into a corner, with the bear closing in and cutting off all escape openings.
Frantically glancing around, Ij'gne spotted a familiar petroglyph in the corner of his eyes. In his mindless escape, Ij'gne had unknowingly entered the same ruins that he'd discovered years prior. Memories of this place resurfaced in his mind and words he'd previously dismissed as a fool's rambling flashed through his mind.
In times of plight, when thou art at thy wit's end, call out unto yon tree, and it shall hearken thy plea. Offer up thy heart, become devout, and it shall deliver thee from crise.
The bear roared one last time and leaped at Ij'gne, its teeth bared to crunch him in half. Ij'gne tensed up and despair engulfed him. In his hopelessness, Ij'gne made one desperate prayer, yearning for a miracle.
'Please! If you really do exist, help me. I'll give up anything! I just want to live!'
"Very well," An archaic voice suddenly sounded in his mind, causing Ij'gne to doubt if he was hallucinating from the stress.
But before he could dwell on the issue too long, the world returned to normal and a tremendous strength surged inside him. His body instinctively grabbed the bear's jaws, preventing it from closing around his torso. His muscles bulged in ways never seen before and exerted strength rivaling a giant's.
Ij'gne kicked the bear and launched it backward, giving him time to draw a dagger. Ij'gne charged forward and raised the weapon as far back as possible, gathering all his strength. Then with venting bellow, he released everything in one final swing. The dagger carved through the air like a fighter jet and coasted through the skull without resistance, like all cuts before.
The bear's head collapsed as a sonic boom sounded, causing the body to go limp. Ij'gne followed, crumpling with heaves of breaths as every fiber of his being quivered from the strain forced onto his body. But regardless, this didn't stop the joy forming within his heart.
'I survived!' He celebrated, falling backward.
Later that night, Ij'gne tasted bear meat for the first time in his life, and it was delicious.