The midday sun warmed Saland's back as he traversed the dusty paths between the outermost villages of the Amalor kingdom. A familiar chorus of cheerful greetings followed him from every doorway and field. Respect, a currency he'd always valued, was freely given. Having distributed the much-needed supplies and food, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled within him. He turned to Saruth, his steadfast companion. "Fancy a stroll near the border, old friend?"
Saruth, ever agreeable, nodded his assent. They set off, their footsteps soft on the winding trails that traced the kingdom's edge. The air hummed with the lazy drone of insects, a peaceful counterpoint to the weight of their responsibilities. This tranquility, however, was about to be shattered.
Suddenly, harsh voices cut through the afternoon calm.
"Yes! We finally managed to kill that beast!" a gruff voice boasted.
Another voice, laced with a cruel amusement, chimed in, "What about these two young elves? Found them cowering behind some bushes."
A woman's voice, sharp and calculating, followed. "They'll fetch a good price as slaves for some noble. Let's take them along."
Saland's jaw tightened. Without a word, he turned to Saruth, his eyes blazing with a familiar protective fire. "We're going to save them."
Saruth's gaze, however, held a note of caution. "From the sound of it, there are at least five magical creature hunters. Be careful, Saland."
Ignoring the inherent risk, Saland moved swiftly and silently towards the source of the voices. He peered through the dense foliage and assessed the situation. A motley group stood over the prone forms of two trembling young elves. There was a gaunt mage clutching a staff, two burly fighters armed with a sword and a wickedly barbed spear, and the woman, her hand resting on the hilt of a gleaming saber.
As Saland stepped into view, the woman's eyes narrowed. "Stay back, or we'll kill them!" she snarled, her grip tightening on her weapon.
In that instant, the faces of the captive elves, pale with terror moments before, flickered with a fragile spark of hope.
Saland remained silent, his movements a blur of lethal grace. In a heartbeat, his own unseen blade flashed, and the woman's head tumbled to the dusty ground, her surprised expression frozen in death.
The two fighters reacted instantly, their bodies glowing with the activation of their innate abilities – a surge of raw power that rippled through the air. But before they could even fully unleash their attacks, a wave of searing heat washed over them. Saruth, his eyes now burning with an inner fire, had unleashed his elemental fury. The fighters didn't even have time to register the impossible before they were reduced to nothing but smoking ash.
The mage, witnessing the swift and brutal efficiency of their demise, let out a strangled cry and collapsed to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Please… don't kill me! I don't want to die!" he sobbed.
Saland's gaze, though cold, held a measure of grim resolve. "I have no intention of killing you," he stated, his voice low and steady. "But when you return to your kingdom, you will deliver a message. Tell everyone that the lands of the Abyss now have a new sovereign. And this sovereign will not tolerate his people being used as slaves or slaughtered for amusement. That king… is me. Saland. Now go!"
The mage scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with terror, and fled with a speed born of pure desperation, disappearing into the trees.
Saland and Saruth exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Their peaceful stroll had taken a dark turn, one that would undoubtedly have far-reaching consequences. They turned back towards the neighboring villages, the weight of the day's events settling upon them as they sought shelter for the night.
The incident at the border served as a catalyst. Saland, now acutely aware of the vulnerability of his people, acted swiftly. He ordered the establishment of fortified checkpoints along the entire perimeter of the Abyss, manned by his elite Imperium warriors. The message was clear: human incursions would no longer be tolerated.
Predictably, these new restrictions led to friction. Sporadic clashes erupted along the border as humans, accustomed to freely traversing the land, were met with staunch resistance. The Imperium, well-trained and fiercely loyal, defended their newly established boundaries with unwavering resolve.
Word of the Abyss's transformation, and the rise of its new, formidable ruler, reached the ears of the human king and his advisors. They viewed the newly consolidated realm of Saxasol not as a neighbor, but as a burgeoning threat. Fear gnawed at the royal court. The whispers spoke of a serpent king, ruthless and powerful, who had overthrown the previous, more amenable ruler.
In their growing apprehension, the king's councilors turned to a legend, a figure of immense power who had long since retreated from the world. Wakawa, the hero of countless battles, had sought solace and enlightenment in a secluded monastery high atop an ancient mountain.
The arduous journey to Wakawa's sanctuary fell to the five eldest and most respected advisors. Their aging bodies protested with every upward step, the thin mountain air burning in their lungs. Finally, one of them, his breath ragged, reached the monastery's weathered door and stepped inside.
He found Wakawa in a state of deep meditation, his form still and serene. The advisor hesitated, unsure how to break the hero's concentration. But as he opened his mouth to speak, Wakawa's eyes flickered open.
The effect was immediate and profound. A wave of unexpected joy washed over the advisor, stealing his breath. Wakawa's golden-blond hair seemed to radiate a soft light, and his eyes, the color of a clear summer sky, held an unnerving depth. The advisor felt an inexplicable reverence, as if standing before a divine being.
Wakawa's voice, calm and resonant, broke the silence. "Honorable messenger, what brings you to such a remote place?"
The advisor, regaining his composure, bowed slightly. "My name is Makin, and I am a councilor of King Emporio III. I am here because the kingdom of the Abyss is becoming a grave threat to humankind."
Wakawa's brow furrowed slightly. "Impossible. Sheax forged a pact with the previous ruler ten years ago, guaranteeing humans free passage into the Abyss."
Makin shook his head, his expression grim. "The problem, esteemed Wakawa, is that Sheax has been defeated. A new sovereign has risen in his place, and… it is said that he is a serpent."
A flicker of concern crossed Wakawa's serene features. "Tell me then, why does King Emporio III seek me out?"
Makin leaned forward, his voice urgent. "The king desires that you lead an army to eliminate the magical creatures of the Abyss once and for all. He fears that they may one day turn their aggression outwards, and so he has decided to strike first."
Wakawa sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of ages. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, his gaze resolute. "Very well. It is decided. I will be the commander of this… monster extermination army."
Makin's eyes lit up with relief. "There is one final matter, great Wakawa. King Emporio III has decreed that you will have absolute authority. All decisions will be yours alone."
Wakawa nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the distant peaks. He rose, his movements fluid and graceful despite his years. Turning to Makin, he simply said, "Let us go."
And so, in the span of a mere ten days, fueled by the fear of one king and the legendary prowess of a retired hero, the monster extermination army was formed. The stage was set for a conflict that would undoubtedly reshape the destinies of both the human kingdoms and the newly sovereign Abyss.