Return of the Forsaken.
The first light of dawn crept across the village, painting the sky in soft golden shades. The cheerful noises from the previous night's celebrations had faded completely, replaced by the deep, restful silence of exhausted people sleeping.
After the intense day of recruitment and planning, everyone had finally surrendered to their weariness.
Near the massive tree that dominated the village center, Arthur and Eldric sat conversing in quiet tones. Their newfound friendship seemed almost miraculous given their recent history as enemies.
Yet their shared experiences of suffering under the government's oppression had created a bond between them. They spoke of their hopes for the new regiments and their concerns about the challenges ahead.
High above them, in his shelter nestled among the tree's strong branches, Ray carefully organized the papers he had just finished. He had spent the night meticulously copying the ancient arts from the Arts of the Nightmare Legion book, transferring its powerful knowledge onto these fresh pages. The ink was still dark, a stark contrast to the worn, dusty scent of the original text that still lingered in the air. With this crucial task complete, he set the papers aside and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, closing his eyes to begin his meditation.
He focused on the energy flowing through his body—the warm circulation of qi and the vibrant pulse of mana. The fatigue from the demanding day began to lift from his muscles and mind. For a few precious moments, peace settled over him.
But tranquility proved fleeting.
From the distant forest came the sounds of splintering wood and cracking branches. The ground beneath them trembled as if bearing some enormous weight. Ray's eyes fluttered open instantly, his senses alert to the approaching danger.
From the shadowy tree line emerged an elderly man clothed in a tattered black coat. His white beard appeared unkempt, and dark stains marked his garments. Behind him rolled a thick, greenish mist that pulsed with a sickly glow.
Then the mist divided to reveal an army of monsters.
The creatures were terrifying in their appearance. Some wolves bore multiple heads, all snarling with sharp teeth. Other beasts displayed bizarre combinations of scales and fur. Their eyes burned with crimson light, and poisonous drool dripped from some of their jaws. Their collective growls made the very air vibrate with threat.
The old man lifted his arm and pointed a bony finger toward the village.
"Destroy them completely!Leave no survivors!" he commanded.
With roaring cries, the monsters charged forward like a deadly tide.
Inside the village, people slept deeply, exhausted from recent battles and the night's activities. But before the monsters could reach the settlement, Ray's eyes began glowing with intense purple light.
A sudden vision filled his mind—an elderly man with gentle eyes smiling warmly at him. The man's voice echoed in his memory, feeling strangely familiar, like someone from a forgotten past.
Then the vision vanished as quickly as it came.
Ray sprang to his feet. Dark energy crackled around him like miniature lightning bolts.
"Everyone, gather around me immediately!" he shouted. His voice carried supernatural strength, reaching every corner of the village.
People awoke in confusion and fear. Mothers clutched their children protectively. Warriors scrambled for their weapons, not fully prepared for battle. Panic began to spread through the crowd.
"Enemies approach! Remain here and do not move!" Ray ordered.
Without hesitation, Ray sprinted toward the approaching threat. His movements were incredibly swift, powered by his unique energies.
He confronted the monster army directly.
Drawing his sword, Ray watched as crimson mist enveloped the dark blade. The very air seemed to distort around the weapon engulfed in his aura.
With one mighty swing, the world appeared to tear apart.
A tremendous cracking sound echoed through the forest as hundreds of monsters fell destroyed.Their dying cries were swallowed by darkness while their life force streamed into Ray's sword like liquid fire.
Ray continued his assault.
Another powerful strike from his blade split the earth open. Ancient trees toppled into the newly formed chasms while dust clouds billowed upward, turning the morning sky ashen gray.
When the dust finally settled, only the old man in the black coat remained standing. Blood soaked his clothing and smeared across his face.
The surviving 100 or so monsters trembled violently, paralyzed by terror.
Ray advanced toward the old man. Dark energy continued to dance around him.
Unexpectedly, the old man collapsed to his knees. His hands shook uncontrollably, and tears traced paths through the grime on his face.
"Vezir... your humble servant welcomes you, my king..." the old man whispered reverently.
Ray stood frozen, confusion overwhelming him. "What do you mean? Who are you? Do we know each other?"
The old man's weeping intensified. When he lifted his face properly, Ray recognized the kind features from his vision, though now they looked pale and sorrowful.
"Yes, my lord... I know who you once were. But I cannot speak of it. If I reveal the truth... we will both perish."
Ray felt the air catch in his lungs.
A profound silence descended between them.
"I understand," Ray said quietly. "Then, what should be done with these monsters?"
The creatures whimpered pitifully, pressing their faces to the ground like frightened dogs. They appeared to comprehend every word being spoken.
The old man, who had called himself Vezir, wiped at his tears.
"I intended to train them...but the knowledge has been lost. The ancient ways of taming monsters have disappeared over time. What I'm using now is only an incomplete method."
He gestured weakly to the cowering beasts, his expression one of deep shame. "This... this control is crude. A pale shadow of the true art. I can force their obedience through fear and this corrupted mist, but I cannot truly bond with them. I cannot make them loyal. That sacred knowledge died with the old Empire."
Ray considered this information, his gaze shifting from the sorrowful old man to the monstrous horde that now trembled in the silence. Their submission was born of pure terror, not of trust. He understood now the difference between a slave master and a true tamer.
Then he asked gently, "Is this lost art connected to the Fangs of the Chaos?"
Vezir's eyes widened in pure astonishment.
"How do you know that name?"he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "My lord, how could you possibly know of the Fangs...?"
Ray answered with calm assurance, though his heart raced within his chest. "I learned of it from the Ark of Void."
Vezir's entire body shook. Fresh tears flowed, but these seemed to be tears of relief rather than sorrow.
"Those three... they must have struggled terribly," he murmured to himself.
Ray glanced again at the monsters. They knelt quietly behind Vezi, shivering like abandoned children.
"Bring them with you," Ray commanded softly. "We're returning to the village."
He turned and began walking homeward, the morning breeze scattering dust around his footsteps.
Vezir watched him with deep reverence, then followed obediently. The monsters trailed behind them, moving as meekly as trained hounds.
As they walked, one persistent question echoed in Ray's thoughts:
Who was I in my past life?
End of chapter 15