[Book II Chapter 121] ZENTRIAS: The Mountain Wraith

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Holding his knees, Zentrias rooked back and forth against the cavern wall. His moments of lucidity were becoming scarcer. He now spend the majority of the day in a stupor, reliving the early years.

<> His younger self crowed contently. <>

Zentrias said nothing in response. The confidence and pride from back then was beginning to affect him, to the extend that he longed for it.

<> His younger self whispered. <>

…

Back then, he’d killed constantly. At first, it was bandits encroaching on his territory. On other occasions, it was the bodyguards of merchants who though they could pass without offering up tribute. Both groups learned it was foolish to challenge him.

These victories fueled his ego, and he’d hungered for more. So when villagers approached him with pleas to deal with other warlords and the scum who served under them, he happily accepted.

Thinking back, this might’ve been an attempt to send him on a suicide mission, ridding themselves of a nuisance. If so, it’d failed totally. No matter how many he faced, he never perished.

This fueled his fame. Whispers began spreading of a ‘mountain wraith’ who descended to commit slaughter. The warlord without an army.

Despite the rumors, he’d had a following. Since menial tasks were a distraction he couldn’t be bothered with, he allowed men and women to join him so they could clean, cook, and maintain the fortress he’d taken over. This led to guards for periods when he was away, scouts to locate caravans, and a second-in-command to manage them all. Eventually, once merchants ceased disrespecting him, he even let others claim tribute on his behalf. However, anything that involved battle was his domain alone. Opportunities for violence were too precious to share with anyone. There were those who tried to seduce me, but I payed them no mind. My lust was for blood.

His skills at ending lives grew by leaps and bounds. With each foe felled, his understanding of human anatomy improved, and the weak points became clearer to his eyes. His speed and efficient reached the level where he made a game of killing with lightest possible touch. He loved witnessing the fear of his enemies when their companions exploded after a few light taps.

Eventually, the wars engulfing Middle Earth came to a lull, and weary nations set about reclaiming the authority they’d ceded. First in their cross-hairs were the warlords. One by one the bandit armies were wiped out. To deal with the fabled mountain wraith, three saints were sent.

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<> His younger self giggled. <>

It was my crowning achievement, Zentrias agreed fondly. He’d lured them into a forest, playing hide-and-seek for over an hour until one finally strayed from the others. He struck hard and true, aiming for instant and dramatic results. When the others caught up, he stood covered in blood, experiencing an unforgettable adrenaline high. The second soon fell, and the third fled. He was left standing triumphant.

<> His younger self smirked. <>

Zentrias glanced down at his blade-like fingers with a mixture of sadness and expectation. He wasn’t sure how long he could fight off their influence, or whether he even truly wanted to.

“So this is where you were hiding…” The soft voice sent a chill down his spine. Under the shock, the fog clouding his mind evaporated. He looked up to see a goddess at the mouth of the cave.

<> His younger self panicked. <> But he wasn’t listening anymore. That’s right, how could I forget…

After the saints, the next to come was Yuria Raven. He’d answered her challenge by luring her to the woods, full of confidence. Setting off a series of explosions, he jumped out of the smoke, ready to deliver a decisive strike, and stopped dead in his tracks. They weren’t there, the lines and points which were supposed to guide his destructive power. The being before him was flawless. Yuria’s martial arts were always top notch.

This stunned him to his core. At that point, he’d started seeing others as bags of meat, only differentiating between them by the inner defects his eyes revealed. However, here there was nothing to see. For the first time in months, he was forced to observed the other party’s outer appearance, and what he saw was an unworldly beauty. His will to fight vanished completely. Yuria vanquished the mountain wraith without lifting a finger.

<> His younger self raged. However, the voice was barely audible.

“You found me…” He whispered.

“The way you tore up the land around here…” Yuria smiled. “That was a message to me, wasn’t it? I’m the only one who’d recognize your work.”

With a wave of her hand, transparent fairies danced into existence, their glow lighting the cavern. “Sorry, it took so long.” She said sadly, noting his disheveled, bandaged form. “I believed you were still trapped in Dark Heritage…”

Zentrias shrunk away, trying to hide his deformed fingers, but the immortal walked over and grabbed them. “These gauntlets…” She smiled. “It’s fine if I take them, right?”

All objections melted away before the gentle voice. “Yes…” He mumbled.

Suddenly his hands felt a cold. Looking down, he found them ending in flesh and blood digits. The horrifying artifact had slid right off. The ghost of his younger self was gone, and he was alone in his own head. It was as though an incredible weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

With a sigh of relief, Yuria wrapped up and put away the gauntlets. She then looked him over. “How did you end up here? And how did you escape Dark Heritage without anyone noticing?”

Zentrias’s eyes opened wide. “Amare Vitiose!” He quickly relayed his experiences with the undead champion.

Yuria frowned while listening. “So that pestilence is back… Thank you for letting me know.”

She glanced towards the exit. “I’d love to escort you back to civilization, but I must return to Nordric immediately. Will you be alright on your own?”

Zentrias nodded serenely. “Yes, I’ll be fine now.”