“Hey everyone, I’m Mors, what are your names?” the bulky, tanned boy asked.
As of now, the group were making their way back to Sharrow from the forest after being told by Julius to prepare for departure, right before he vanished.
“...”
To that question, Mors was answered with silence from everyone.
“C’mon guys, don’t be like that, I have a feeling we’re going to be together for a loooong time, who knows, we might all become immortals in the future. Why don’t we start with why we all want to become stronger?” Mors asked enthusiastically.
“Shut up, you’re annoying…” the girl with the long black hair replied, while everyone else continued to quietly walk.
“Well, uh, everyone knows about the Silver Saint Volheilm, right?” Mors asked, looking at Zieg. Immediately, everyone’s interests were piqued, and they started paying attention. Zieg’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Yup, yup, your father is my inspiration, Hope. Y’know, I’m actually from Central.”
From Mors’ statement, everyone aside from Zieg’s eyes widened. Looking at the others’ reactions, Zieg became confused. What was so special about the center area of the continent?
“No way, the frontier… But that’s...” the boy wearing glasses muttered to himself.
The center area of the continent was the place where the most warfare took place, and it was the place where the demons had been fighting the fiercest, trying to reclaim their land for nearly two decades, and now that the Holy Crusade had ended, the onslaught of the demons had only intensified.
“I’d even heard they made a magic school in Central earlier this year, pretty cool, right?” Mors grinned, continuing “Actually, my entire village in Central was wiped out by demons a few years back. Back then we were all praying for anyone to save us, god, immortals, heroes, but no one came. I was the only survivor,” Mors continued grinning. The other four only had serious or blank expressions.
(Death begets death, and yet we still crave it) Zieg thought to himself.
“That time, I thought I was a goner,” Mors said while waving his arms around exaggeratedly “But y’know, right before a demon was about to bite into me, I saw a silver flash of light,” his smile widened. The others were now listening intently, waiting for Mors to continue.
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“It was the Silver Saint Volheilm. He moved so fast that all I could see were silver flashes, and all the demons were cut down before I knew it. When I saw him coming my way, I was no longer terrified of the demons, or sad that everyone in my village vanished just like that. To me, he was a Hero, almost like a ray of light, like… hope for humanity itself. Y’know, like the ones in the fairy tales, or the immortals that we always hear about and never get to see in our lifetimes… He saved my life and brought me to Sharrow, him, an immortal, for a mere peasant like me...” Mors’ cheerful face suddenly took on a serious expression, “So that’s why I want to become stronger, no matter what. I’ll become an immortal and a hero like Volheilm, one that humanity can actually look up to. Even in his final moments, I hear that Volheilm sacrificed himself to take down the Demon King Zieg.” Mors’ smiled.
A hint of respect could be seen from some of the others. It seemed like their opinions of Mors had improved, if only a little.
(Hah, if only you knew…) Zieg scoffed inwardly.
Once again, Mors asked, “So, why are all of you trying to get stronger?”
“For revenge,” Zieg replied.
“Ah, I thought so, for your father?” Mors asked curiously.
“Something like that,” Zieg smiled innocently.
Mors brushed off the sudden chill he felt for some reason, and continued asking, “What about the rest of you?”
“Just because you told us your reason, does it mean that we have to tell you ours?” the long-haired girl quickened her pace, ignoring him.
The boy with glasses and the girl with the bobcut seemed to agree, and remained silent.
“Hmph, killjoys,” Mors pouted, “Well, it looks like it’s just you and me, Hope,” Mors smiled while wrapping an arm familiarly around Zieg’s neck.
(Greaaaaat…) Zieg thought.
The trip back to Sharrow felt that much longer.