“There is always something new that will happen. Some new reaction or some new discovery. Either that of an ancient magic or creature being rediscovered, or an entirely new entity being made. This is the power of magic, or rather mana itself. It is something we cannot properly comprehend, and yet we foolishly thinker with it without caution at all.”

- Lagromatus the Accursed regarding the Flesh Changers of Varai

Howling in pain, Benedict felt the suffering he felt on his side slowly move up. It was like that of the worm-like crawlings of his skin hours back, in a way that it was clawing its way to his mind, like tendrils of strange entities trying to know how he thinked. It was anguish in the highest form he could ever feel, made worse by the bindings that restricted him from attempting to bash his head in.

Visions flashed into his mind, forced by some otherworldly force. Or it was simply the sheer amount pain he was feeling that caused it, regardless he would see the wooden ceiling begin to crumble away. Showing a deep void lit by dying stars, and yet the void was unnatural. Yet he could see figures quite literally swimming in the vacuum of it, as if they had evolved to live in a place that no living thing should ever exist in. It was akin to a vision of madness, like the tales of ‘gods’ of madness in his own world, spoken and written upon only in the fiction of several writers.

The things that swam in the cold void was, in a way beautiful to him. But to others, especially to the natives of this world, they were a sight that would surely cause insanity. But not all of them would cause simple insanity with their forms, as most resembled creatures of myth made into primal variations for the cold void. Some resembled a mixture of ancient earth aquatic entities, with a multitude of eyes that glowed with obvious energy that some could deduce to be as old as the dying stars around them.

But Benedict did not focus on these creatures, the pain he felt was amplified ten-fold whenever he looked at them. As if he was not meant to examine them, as if some entity jealously wanted his attention. The vision intensified then, his screams becoming a distant whisper to his ears as he had lost sight of the room he was in.

His eyes darted out desperately, trying to see more, trying to escape the pain he felt. As he did so he would notice a particular group of void-swimming entities, entities similar to the thing he saw trapped behind the gate in his dream. They had a multitude of tentacles, but most had arms akin to that of octopuses with strange suckers upon them. They however did not swim like the others, instead they drifted with each other’s company.

Among them, there was a particularly large specimen. If it could be described by him, it resembled a large bulbous mass, having a hundred or so ‘arms’ and tentacles alike around its body, though it had seem to be keeping them into a tight drill-like hold as it drifted. It had a singular eye, nearly as large as its entire body, and this very eye was looking at him. It was very similar to the thing behind the gate, but it only held one eye.

It looked at him with obvious interest, but it would shake its ‘head’ as if now was not the time. Strangely enough, as he looked towards this thing, Benedict felt the pain recede, almost disappearing. But it remained like a buzzing behind his head. In that moment he noticed that his screams was silent, it was no surprise because what he saw now was a void. Sound could not travel in a vacuum, that he knew. But he wasn’t there physically, so why could he only hear damning silence?

The answer would come quickly then, as the dying stars began to fade alongside the creatures, it was followed by the cold void fading too. With the previous ceiling returning, reforming again as the screams of his started to ring out again. This time however, his screams would slowly quiet down as the pain he felt receded, replaced by a burning sensation within his body. It was followed by the feeling of his mind being opened up, as if there was another level of complexity added to it, another purpose than what is normally found on a human mind.

[Peculiar, his body is rapidly gathering mana and integrating it within his body. He is not actively fueling any sort of spell, but rather it seems to be a natural process that is meant to feed some sort of change.. And yet it is obviously bringing him great pain. Salia, continue on numbing the pain he feels, I fear that the bindings won’t hold if he keeps struggling.]

Piercing through his dying screams, voices could be heard. The language unknown to him, and being strangely song-like despite it obviously not meant to be any sort of song. With his screams turning into moans and groans of pain, he would struggle against his bindings once again. The rattling of metal would add into the growing noise of the room they were in, he could feel the metals of the chain strained to keep him bound.

[I can only do so much to numb the pain he feels Elder.. He is experiencing something akin to mana-burn, but it is brought about by him.. By him absorbing the raw mana of our home.. It shouldn’t be possible for humans to do that Elder!]

With one final grunt, Benedict would cease his struggling entirely. Opting to lay still on the bed he was on, noticing that it was surprisingly comfortable and soft. He could feel the urge to close his eyes and sleep, but he refused that as he would focus his attention to the sources of the voices he heard. As expected he would see the girl, her hands outstretched and holding his right hand. From her touch he could clearly feel a gentle warmth, something born from some sort of magical spell she was doing.

To his left he would see an elderly male. He was horned like the girl, but his eyes glowed brightly in a blue color, suggesting that powerful energies coursed within his very body. He had about six horns, ornate and marked with runes that he could see to be dimly glowing too. He looked particularly weak, and yet something told him that this old man could do him harm before he would be killed.

“Where.. Am I…Why am I chained..”

He would manage to say with a pained grunt as he would try to relax his body. The pain was there, but not like before where he wanted to bash his head in. He would assume that they were at the very least friendly, seeing as how the female was clearly doing something that did not harm him. But with him being bound, it clearly spoke of how they were wary of him. Which was understandable given the fact he has two deadly limbs.

[Strange. That is not the Northern Tongue,or any of the human languages I have heard. Salia, continue to alleviate his pain. It is best we calm him, before he does anything rash.]

Given the tone of their song-like language they seemed to sound worried, either for him or for their own well being.His fingers would twitch a bit, slowly curling inwards to let him ball his hands into fists. The female on his right took this as a sign of agitation, and he expected for her to back away. Instead she would speak soothingly, that song-like language somewhat compelling him to relax.

[Please, calm down. We mean you no harm.. We will not scorn you for what you are, or what you have become. Though, you are in pain.. Try not to move.]

Reluctantly he would relax, letting his hand unfurl. With his fingers touching the soft sheets of the bed, he would finally realize that he did not have his gauntlets on. In fact, he was wearing an entirely new set of clothing. It wasn’t anything particularly special, just a grey shirt and black pants, but what it implied caused him to feel slightly embarrassed.

[I believe he cannot understand our language. Though despite that, he clearly understands the tone of what we are saying. A good sign for certain, as it means that whatever he has become, he is not a Revenant. So you can rest easy and can safely return what belongs to him. But I suggest doing it after we establish a spell to speak with him.]

With the assumption that they were truly friendly by the tone of their voice, Benedict would examine their clothing. Trying to find out if what they wore was familiar, as the lessons he actually remembered from Isalabi spoke of some races that they should expect within and outside the Lonesome Frost. The best way to find out what race, or civilization they came from was based on their attire as one of the instructors said. Even going as far as to cite that some of the races wore what seemed to opulent dresses, but is in actuality everyday clothing to their culture.

And yet their attires, did not match anything he had heard. Though they were familiar in way, as they largely resembled ancient clothing of past human civilizations. But they had their own take on it, with it being a sort of mixture from similar clothings he had seen in the past. As far as he could described it, their attire was a mixture of silken cloaks and fitting leather bindings that almost looked as if it was meant to be armor. There was no clear way to describe it, aside from calling it an elegant mixture of practical and aesthetic designs.

[He is utterly strange Elder.. I feel it, that primal need to simply survive. There is wrath underneath, boiling and roiling purposely kept in check, yet steadily building up.. The mana around him is being siphoned within, under some instinct that is wholly not human.]

To Benedict their conversation was that of two songs intertwining, with each participant relaying the words of their language in varying pronunciation that he could barely comprehend. But it felt magical, like their words were laced with mana like how spells are chanted out. And yet they did not actively do it. It was peculiar as how he could feel such a thing, when a month ago he couldn’t feel mana itself. Certainly he could feel the effects of magic, that vague tingling in the air or certain smells or even taste depending on the spell. But never mana itself. This would have been an interesting thing for him to take not of, but he was more keen on listening to the tone of the two before him.

[Indeed. The new limbs he has is certainly different, but the way it is positioned on his back implies that it grew naturally. But the time it took for it to have grown should have been far longer.. Perhaps this is why his body siphons mana? Is this only a part of the changes he is undergoing? I will have to consult one of the Choir and Menders.]

Despite the obvious language barrier, it became truly clear they had no plans in doing him any harm. But the way the older man spoke implied he was talking about him, the tone of his voice holding curiosity but also being cautious. His instincts dictated that he must lay down, allow this to happen, and he followed that. As he felt he had a higher a chance to survive this ordeal without being violent at all.

[The Choir and Menders had said he is.. Strange. The Lord of Hymn even said that the song of mana around him is like a chant, a low droning sound of voices joining in speaking in a tongue known not to them. Even the healers had said that his body acts as if it is trying to adapt to mana itself.. Is there any truth to this Elder? Is this why the Forlorn chose him?]

They talked almost casually about him, that he could be sure of. The room he was in, as he would notice now actually looked quite furnished. As if it was some guest room of sorts, the room he was in didn’t have any indication that someone own it as there was no pictures, or anything that could imply as such. It also looked utilitarian, with it just being the right size to accommodate a knight or two. This would put him at ease, as they were hospitable enough to let him rest in this room. Though at the cost of him being restrained, presumably for their own protection.

[The Forlorn as far as I can remember, belonged to a particular clan of Northerners from the Lonesome Frost. They were among the few that looked to the empty void, and found a strange comfort to it. They created strange art from it, most notably their equipment. I know not what could have made him choose this boy, but I can assume it is because he had proven himself. Hence why he even spared the boy, leaving him with a few cracked ribs of course.]

Seeing as how his options were limited, he would consider sleeping. But that would mean he would miss the things that would occur as he slept, and he wished not to dream of that dream again. There was nothing to gain from it, and he needed to be awake to deduce what it truly was.

[We may ask him about his origins Elder..I know the Word spells of the Choirs, if you will allow it I will try the spell on him. And.. Has the Menders commented about the state of his… hands? This isn’t some effect of the Forlorn bequeathing his equipment to him, right?]

Surprisingly he could feel the female caressing his hand as her tone became deeply worried, but the sensation was strangely numb in a way. Slowly he felt another surge of warmth followed by a coolness that would creep up to his body, it offered relief that fully removed the remaining traces of pain his body felt. He was thankful for this, but worried that should she remove her hand then the pain would return tenfold, and that was something he did not want.

[The Menders are unsure what to make of his hands, but they say it is literally a sort of bone-growth. Its purpose seems to be that of defense, where it currently is growing around his fingers and assumingly would still allow him to move them. And yes, you can try it on him, it would be best that he would not get the wrong idea about his situation.]

With a nod, the elderly male would take a few steps backwards as he directed his gaze towards Benedict. He looked intrigued and particularly lax, a front to make sure he would incite any false assumptions. But it only made it clear to Benedict that the old man was powerful, that or wherever he was in, the old man held some sort of position of power. Without a moment’s hesitation after that, the female would let go of his hand, and just as he feared the pain returned.

But it was not as worse the first time it happened, but nonetheless it was painful enough for him to begin straining on his shackles once again. However the female wouldn’t let him feel it any further as she leaned in and touched the side of his temples, gently rubbing them as that familiar warmth came from her touch. It was quite the intimate sight as she was near him, with her face gently smiling upon him with those yellow irises of hers.

He could feel a rush of heat on his face, a natural reaction to how close a girl was to him. But fortunately, or unfortunately he was incapable of actually blushing at all. And so he could only looked wide eyed at her, as heavy feeling would begin to gather around her hands, followed by her starting to gently massage his temple with her thumbs. The mana around him, one of the many things he couldn’t describe at all, but was closely similar to a strange feeling of something being there but at the same time not being there, began to spread out.

He could see her eyes starting to glow blue as she maintained her smile. His senses briefly was overtaken by a surge of fear and a desire to survive, with his thoughts thinking that she was about to steal his soul or enslave him to her will. He feared both outcomes, especially when they suddenly appeared as irrational thoughts in his mind.

[Do not fear, you will not be harmed.]

Without any warning at all, he would feel something similar to a mental invasion. It was not dissimilar to the feeling of those worm-like crawlings, with them moving like tendrils into his mind and making him feel as if he knew something, giving him knowledge that he could not grasp. It also strangely made him not hear anything at all, as if his hearing was shut off by the same force that gave him some sort of knowledge.

He could see the girl speak, her lips moving almost hypnotically before she would pull back, her hands letting go of his head. Just like before the pain returned, but it was quickly doused when he felt her touch again on his right hand. With the return of the warmth, his hearing returned and strangely enough he could comprehend what they said. They still spoke in that song-like language, but he could understand it as if they were speaking in english.

“The spell should have taken effect now..”

It was obvious that she had done a spell that would allow him to understand them, it was similar to the spell he had first witnessed when he came to this world. It was casted by the head mage of Isalabi, allowing the summoned to understand the language and speak them. But that one simply made it so that whatever language they heard would be directly translated to the language they were fluent in.

“He should understand us now. If you can understand us, tell me are you alright?”

The old man smiled at him as he asked his question, nodding towards Benedict as if indicating that this was a place that would not harm him. He had already deduced as much from the way their voices sounded before he could comprehend them, but still he couldn’t help but feel wary now.

“I.. I am alright.. Thank you for not harming me.”

Hesitantly he replied, unsure how to speak towards the individuals that had saved him, individuals that he knew not of. To his surprise, his own voice came out not bearing the english language but that of the song-like language they spoke in. Unlike theirs his was a gathering of voices, chanting out in a strange order akin to three layers of chantings that lagged in the end. The two looked at him strangely, as if this was something they did not expect.

“The voice of yours.. Interesting, allow me to introduce myself. I am known as the Elder, my name matters not for my purpose is what defines me now. I bid you welcome to the forest of my people, and hope that you shall abide by the laws set about by those that came before us. Though you will not expect anything less than respect from the others, as you are the successor to the Forlorn.”

At the mention of the Forlorn, flashes of memory revolving around that ghostly warrior would resurface quickly. Showing him exactly why the Elder called him the successor to the Forlorn, as he had inherited three items from that warrior. The image of those outstretched tentacles trying to grasp out towards the dragon on the weapon and shield, was shown clearly in his mind as he momentarily lost himself. His attention would be pulled back to the present by the voice of the female, who was still holding his hand.

“Are you by any chance well versed in the manipulation of mana?”

Her question was sudden, but it had an edge of worry to it as she stared at him. It was a strange moment for Benedict, as a complete stranger showed worry for a person like him, a person with obvious monstrous qualities and who was also a stranger. He opted to reply, but hesitantly as the language he spoke in did not seem to be english.

“No.. I am not, I am incapable of manipulating mana. I have no skill in it, nor will I ever be able to do so.”

There was a reason as to why he said that, he was Godless. And the Godless as the others have put it, cannot have abilities granted to them by Gods, as they do not or will not accept their gifts, and as such they will not be granted the ability to wield magic. It was logical as when they came to this world, they had no ability to even wield mana, and one of the mages even went as far as to say they were empty vessels that needed only to be filled.

His answer would cause the female to look at him curiously, as if his reply did not make sense at all.It caused the Elder to chuckle, clearly amused by how his reply sounded so grim and accepting. Even when it came out as a chanting of voices. The Elder made no reply, instead it was the female that spoke as a small frown crossed her face.

“Well.. You are manipulating mana right now.. It’s the source of your pain, the pure raw energy that is within the home of my people is being forcibly integrated into your body. Normally humans cannot do such a thing.. As only mages could do so! But you.. You’re not a mage, and your body is changing because of it!“

He would give her a confused look, unable to comprehend what she had just said to him. But slowly it made sense, the pain he felt, the scything-blades that grew from his back, and the worm-like writhing he had experienced. Before he had jumped, before he had woke near that lake in that clearing, there was nothing comparable like that happening to him. In fact as the others chose to accept Gods, and he and his friends were deemed Godless, he became aware of a sort of emptiness within him. He chalked it up as the usual emptiness, a lack of proper motivation of sorts, but now it seemed to be the emptiness of mana.

He couldn’t feel the same emptiness now, instead he felt hunger. That strange hunger that drove him to devour that deer-like thing, and strangely enough he felt something similar to a smoldering flame within him. He tried to focus on it, but all he got was a sudden anger rising up, something wholly familiar to him. He did not dwell on it, instead he spoke as he raised his left hand, causing the shackle upon it to rattle.

“Where am I?”

He would witness his left hand to have grown strange growths, highly reminiscent of bone and forming along the lines of his fingers and hand as if it was to form armor. They mainly formed around his fingers as if some force ossified something so specifically, allowing him still to be able to move them. His eyes widened momentarily at this, a surge of nervousness overcoming him before it being replaced with quick startling acceptance.

“You seem to be taking your situation quite well. I applaud that, as most humans by now would have struggled and spat in disgust at the sight of something that is not of their kind. Though the answer to your question would be ‘Malvirek’, or Forest of Ancients, the home of my people and many others. It is in a sense directly below the Lonesome Frost, though one must traverse great mountains and treacherous paths to find the one true path that leads within that place.

And one must actually survive the many beasts of our home to find the homes of my people. Though you bypassed that, in a particularly creative way.”

The Elder spoke as he began to draw symbols upon the air with one hand, it initially looked like the old man was simply playing tricks on him. But soon enough with one final stroke of his finger a blinding bolt would burst out from his palm, whizzing towards him as if it was set to kill him. Benedict did not have time to react before the the bolt would hit him squarely on his chest, but it did nothing, and all he could do was growl at the Elder.

“Aggressive, quick to retaliate and surely malevolent. And yet that holy bolt did nothing to you, simply going within you without any resistance in your part. Then your body simply devoured the bolt, like some sort of snack. Curious, you aren’t undead as we have first assumed, since you arrived within our lands as a cold corpse.”

The Elder nodded in satisfaction, his hands once again drawing symbols upon the air, and this time it simply caused the bindings that held him back to disintegrate. It was a blatant display of magic, and briefly he could feel the mana in the spell he did, even taste it to some extent. In response to that, his scything-blades would extend out for a moment, moving in a way that suggested that it was not limited to one set of movements, before it was reeled back in.

“I.. actually died?”

He asked in disbelief, before he would let out a strange chuckle. It strangely felt amusing to him, as it truly made sense now. But what did not make sense was how he was even alive, that could not be explained at all.

“Yes! I well… I found you dead and floating on the waters of cleansing. The holy lake had kept your body from actually decaying, letting me reach out to compel the water to let your body come to the earth of the altars. Though when I left to ask the Elder what to do with your.. Body, you were certainly dead! And when we came to bury you among our honored dead.. You were gone.”

The girl spoke with a bit of hesitation, her eyes looking at his with a bit of shame in them. As if she had done something dishonorable. Benedict noticed this, but he would begin to think of what she said, and what it implied. It meant that just as she left, he had awoken with these new limbs. Even if there was a gap between the hours she left, and the time he woke up, it meant that these new limbs grew rapidly, and only when he was actually on solid ground.

“...God damn it...”

He cursed as he would not know what to do. It was clear that the changes he was experiencing was advancing in a pace once deemed impossible, it was only a matter of time when the next big change would occur, as right now there was an obvious growth of bone on his hands. This was obviously a reaction to something, perhaps a way to make him survive? But it mean that he was something else now, a mutant, a changeling, an abberant of nature.

“I am no longer human… I am an.. Aberration..”

He muttered his thoughts, but at that the Elder would chuckle as he would go turn around.

“You’re indeed an aberration. Something different, something new, something that has inherited the mantle of the Forlorn. No matter what you are, know that you have purpose. You are now titled Despot, an entity that shall be the beginning of a change like none other. For you will carry the will of the Forlorn, and it shall be sang forth in the voices of wrath, and with each beating of your heart you shall become this new being.

That is what I have seen with my eyes, yours is a future carved not by the tapestry of fate, but guided by it. What it guides you to, is your choice alone. Your voice mimics this, a hymn or cacophony that follows what you say, almost discordant yet also pleasing. Salia has found you first, and as such her fate is tied to yours. A fate much better than what the Tapestry had set for her is in your hands.

As you are… Godless.”

The Elder smiled as he uttered the word ‘Godless’, in a way it was not the word Godless he said. It was another word in their song-like tongue, which closely resembled the word Godless and its meaning to benedict. Zahliel, that was the word, he did not know its meaning but to him it was Godless. Godless in the context that one chose not to accept the Gods of this world, in blatant spite and defiance. Benedict could only nod in response, his mind trying to digest what the Elder just said.

“Now, would you tell us your name?”

It was Salia that spoke, the female that held his hand. Her voice was steady, as if they had talked about this beforehand. It was overwhelming really, and for the Benedict who did not want any sort of obligation to this world he was forcibly brought upon, he could only sigh.

“Benedict.. I am.. Benedict Ligare.”

But he would reply nonetheless, seeing as it was for the best. And with his reply, the Elder’s smile returned and it widened to somewhat of a mad grin. And without even so much as letting his heart beat, the old man would clap his hands, his glowing eyes even getting brighter with visible excitement.

“Yes, another individual to fulfill what has been said in age old lore! An individual to finally succeed the Forlorn. Benedict, you shall be the one to fulfill what the Forlorn wanted in his undeath. Though it will be hard, it will be a purpose for you.”

Salia could be heard sighing too, as if she had no say in this. It was obvious on her beautiful face on how she started to glare at the Elder, but the glare did not last long as she would held his hand tightly. It was peculiar before she would pull out a necklace from a pocket of hers, she then would open his hand and place the necklace on his palm. And instantly he recognized what the necklace was.

“I shall hope that you will have me.”

She would say with a tinge of a blush on her face as she would bow her head. Benedict as this unfolded could only look on with a mixture of confusion and horror. He remembered one of the reasons why he even left Isalabi, aside from a petty desire to get better and bash Damien’s skull in, he did not want any obligations to this world. A world that was not his own. But now, he was being forced into a purpose he had no say in.

But there was something that confused him more. The Elder blatantly said that he was the first of his kind, what did he imply? Did he know that he was a Summoned? But why would he call him the first? It made him assume many things, but none was close enough to what the Elder actually meant.

“Now that you at least know your situation, allow me to leave the two of you alone. As I have other things to attend to. Salia, I suggest you teach him how to manage his ability in absorbing mana, or he shall never be able to sleep at all.”

With that, the Elder left him alone with Salia. He didn’t even notice the Elder leave, as Benedict would let out a frustrated sigh which was followed by him muttering a few curses, particularly directed to Asairos and the head mage that authorized the summoning. He had to wonder at least, if his friends were faring much better than him.

--

It had been a day and a half since Benedict had torn apart a Jaelir, eating most of the eviscerated creature whilst leaving most to rot. He didn’t particularly leave any large chunks behind save for the head, as he had ravenously devoured a majority of the creature including its bones. He himself did not notice it in his hungry haze, and when he had left, there came scavengers looking for an easy meal. Of course being creatures of the Forest of Ancients, they were particularly strange in biology.

Many tried to come for the scraps, but one in particular wont out due to its sheer size and managed to steal away the remains of the Jaelir. This entity was a Raemir, a distant cousin to the common wyverns of Jasolem. It was a young Raemir, nearly nine years in age and resembling something akin to serpentine formation of rocks. It also was strange as it had an exoskeleton of sorts, similar to a spine that grew on its upper plates that helped interlock the majority of its stone-like shells, whilst helping its helmet like head to seemingly look eyeless, whilst maintaining a large deadly maw.

It was quite long, nearly capable of wrapping around ten adult humans and eating four of them whole,but curiously this great beast was not moving at all. Moments ago it had just finished eating several Jaelir and other creatures, a day after it had found the head of an already eaten Jaelir. Right now it was deathly still under the shade of the trees, not even the faintest tremor could be seen or heard from it that indicated breathing. It would lay still for nearly half an hour, before it would suddenly move and unleash a roar.

It was a pained roar, one that caused the surroundings to shake. It tried to curl up before it would simply drop dead. It was an anticlimactic end for such a beast, and an undignified one at that. These creatures could be quite aptly compared to the ‘World Eating Serpents’ as they could, if given millennia to actually grow reach such a size, sadly some peculiar races did not allow them to reach such sizes. And this Raemir was barely even the size of a normal adult, and so its death was strange and sudden.

It would simply lay still for minute after its last roar, being as dead as one could possibly be. Then its body would subtly twitch, visible only for a second. This would repeat over and over, with slow twitches that indicated life. But it was clear that it was not life from the Raemir, but some sort of parasite that was within its body.

Slowly there seems to be movement within its length, slowly crawling up from its stomach and traversing upwards towards its mouth. From the outside the Raemir completely looked normal, as if it was asleep or generally dead. But unseen there was things crawling up its insides, savagely ripping and tearing and eating through. They did this because it was the only actual way to get out, as the other parts of this wyvern-like creature was particularly hard for them to pierce through.

It took them roughly half an hour to actually reach the head, and once they did they would come out by lifting up the roof of the mouth of the creature, letting its maw open. And at that moment the clear smell of blood would waft around the area, obviously enticing carnivorous creatures to seek its source out. But what came out next would surely cause any creatures to back away at their sight.

The first to come out was a human-like thing, covered from head to toe in the blood of the Raemir it came from. It was roughly the size of an adult man, but it was particularly thin as if its growth was accelerated, which it was. It clearly resembled a human, but its skin was unnaturally pale, and it being hairless and having no outward signs of a reproductive organ at all.

It would let out a low growl, as it revealed more features aside from being sexless and truly unnatural. First was that it had sunken eyes, with the irises being brown and dimly glowing red in a way. Second its arms was unnaturally long, nearly as long as it was tall with its own hands being twice as large, with each finger tipped with a particularly long claw. And third it had no lips, or rather it had no skin covering the area around its mouth.

This made it looks like it was grinning, showing off its sharp teeth whilst letting out a low throaty growl as it breathed in fresh air for the first time in its life. This was an entity that resembled a human, but mutated to suit a purpose, and in this world this being was an abomination. And it knew that, as it was connected to something.

Behind it, the one that kept the maw of the Raemir opened came out, letting the maw close with a low thud. This thing that came out next was closely similar to the first, but compared to it it was bulkier and more brutish. It was also more human in a way than the other one. Unlike the first, it had lips but the side of its mouth had no skin at all, allowing one to see its muscles and tongue and surprisingly normal teeth.

This one did not seem to have any claws or obvious deviations, but its legs were formed in a way that the feet only had two long toes that could dig into the ground, in a way it made it look like it had a y shaped foot. Its heel was also a tad bit longer, as if most of its changes focused on its legs.

Instinctively these two knew what they were, they were the first of specific breeds that would be used for their kind. In some way they knew what their kind was called, through a link to a specific individual. Aberrations, that was what they were, and if they could articulate words they would be saying that very word over and over.

Instead they would growl as their brains, one disturbingly similar to that of a human would begin to establish a link to their progenitor and to each other. To the world of Jasolem, this was the birth of a new race, but in actuality it was the birth of the very first Hive-Minded race in this magical world. And without anyone to order them as of now, they naturally focused on two instincts that their progenitor felt so keenly. First was survival, and the second was hunger. There was an addition to that, they sought out their progenitor.

With two roars that barely echoed out, two Aberrations would begin their search for their master, or rather their search for flesh to devour. As it was obvious that they were barely complete at all.

-

Far away from the Forest of Ancients, another event was occurring. This one was less grand or surprising as it did not involve any monstrous entities, or battles. It was a convoy of caravans moving through the land of the Lonesome Frost, to the far east near the dens of the beastmen. This caravan was not uncommon, in fact it was very common to the humans of the Lonesome Frost.

These caravans contained a wide assortment of individuals, from the Merchants that organized them to the adventurers that hitched a ride in exchange of guarding the caravan itself. In one particular caravan that contained preserved goods, there were two individuals that guarded the goods themselves. This was not strange, as there were usually guards within such a caravan while the rest would travel along the side should they have spare horses.

These two however were obviously not natives of the Lonesome Frost. As they both had black hair, dark brown eyes and a youthful look to their yellowish complexion. They resembled the people of the far eastern lands, beyond that of the Lonesome Frost itself, but they were not from that place. As they were among the many summoned.

These two were a bit different, as they looked particularly tired and obviously grim. These two were Carleon and Jio, and they had received a disturbing letter that had forced them to drop everything they were doing to simply return to Isalabi, the capital of the humans in this land. They did not look pleased at all, and instead they looked as if someone pulled a sort of trick that they did not appreciate at all.

Carleon the most grim among the two, had a large two-handed hammer resting on his shoulder. This two-handed hammer, or war-hammer for many individuals was not at all fantasy like. It actually closely resembled an ancient maul, nearly similar to the modernday sledge hammer. Though the size of the head was only a bit bigger than the usual, whilst the entire shaft was made out of metal. It was very simple with little to no design at all, save for a cross highly reminiscent of that from the Knights Templars etched on both sides of the hammer.

It was also peculiar that on the shaft of the hammer itself there was two chains welded to it, directly connecting to the right gauntlet Carleon wore, welded onto its surface like the hammer. Most of the length of the chains was wrapped around his arm, but the majority hanged and rattled in the air. It made for quite a sight, as Carleon wore a surcoat over a hauberk, the surcoat being made to be grey with a red stylized cross of the Templars at the front. On his head was a mail coif whilst the rest of his attire was simply that of leather armor.

He had bag to the side of his seat, and to the side of it is a strange dusty old tome. As thick as Benedict’s notebook, but obviously older and its pages made out of different paper.

Jio on the other hand wore a simple leather set of armor, it was very fantasy-like and looking as if it was for thieves or assassins. But the dull coloration of it implied that it was not up to standard at all. Like Carelon, he had the marking of the Templar Cross on his chest in a bright red color, whilst both of his shoulders had the same mark. On his hand was a sword similar to the japanese ninjato, but thicker in a way and unbalanced as it seemed to rest heavily on the floor.

Like Carleon’s hammer, the hilt of the blade was also chained and connected to Jio’s right gauntlet which was made out of metal unlike his other equipment. This was particularly ritualistic, and one might even assume that Jio and Carleon belonged to a specific faction of sorts. They looked on to the floor, not really speaking to one another for one reason or another.

But after a minute or two, Jio would speak, a small smile on his face would appear that would quickly fade as the words left his mouth.

“Hey, maybe Benedict is just pranking us.. Trying to make us come back sooner because he wants us to see something. He can’t be dead.. Right?”

Carleon would look up towards Jio as he heard his sentence, and the boy would nod for a moment before taking a minute or two to reply.

“Maybe, but the letter was penned by Leila. The third princess of the Basalos line. I do not know what this means, but the contents of that letter was.. Suspicious. Though regardless of that.. Benedict is not dead.”

He says with a dispassionate voice in the end, as if this entire thing was a waste of time. He was confident that his best friend was alive, that he was sure of, but he couldn’t help but feel that following the request of Leila would lead to trouble.

“Oh.. Yeah. Remember what Benedict kept saying to us?”

Jio asked as he shifted a bit, his face still looking grim. Carleon would quickly reply, as if he had been chanting the reply for the past few days, as his voice suddenly gained strength and passion behind them.

“In suffering there is absolution, in pain there is forgiveness.”

At that both of them smiled, but they would return to their grim demeanor soon after.