Book 2: Chapter 25

Cyil laughed. “The Nefarious Saint? You’re taking the name of a made-up monster?”

Cyil remembered the Nefarious Saint from stories his mother had told him. The Nefarious Saint was a figure that parents reminded their children of whenever they needed a good scare. The Nefarious Saint was a being that did whatever it wanted whenever it wanted. It would eat children, steal away memories, create unnatural phenomenons, bring a person to madness, plague a dream, and any other labels people could think of.

The proliferation of stories had gone beyond time and now no one really knew who or what the Nefarious Saint actually was; some say the Nefarious Saint was a human mage, others say a demon or Dark One, while even more say the Nefarious Saint is a phantom. Shrouded in mystery, everyone had their own interpretation of the Nefarious Saint, but there was one constant--all the various stories pointed to the Nefarious Saint as being an evil entity.

“What monster? Made-up? Speak clearly, boy… though, your soul is older. Wait, that isn’t your true body. Interesting interesting.”

Cyil stopped laughing and his expression turned serious. “How do you know about that?”

Now it was the Nefarious Saint’s turn to laugh. “I know many things. I am the Nefarious Saint after all! Let me guess, your true body was destroyed, but your beloved master helped you transfer your somewhat strong soul into a new vessel. Tsk tsk. I can tell you that that vessel is degrading faster than usual because your soul is too strong for it. What an amatuer mistake!”

Cyil didn’t respond but quietly digested the Nefarious Saint’s words. Then, without squandering words, Cyil said, “what is it that you want from me?”

“Getting right to the crux of the matter. You’re a smart boy. I don’t ask for much…” The Nefarious Saint held the suspense, but when Cyil’s face darkened it continued, “I simply want to be your friend. In a way that is straightforward and without any deceit. In this world, it’s so hard to have someone you absolutely trust. Even when someone has swore an oath to the elements that is still not an airtight deal. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to always have your back? I mean, come on boy. The little friends you have right now will all soon embark on their own paths and inevitably leave you behind. In fact, most of them will die long before you, because I see a great destiny awaiting you. I want to be part of that and I can greatly help you along the way. Nakrul is huge, but I’ve been to--”

--Cyil was growing tired of the Nefarious Saint’s beating around the bush and he couldn’t block out the other’s voice from entering his mind so he just began to walk away from the stall. Hearing the Nefarious Saint talk so much hurt Cyil’s head. It was like a bug buzzing right in his ear that he couldn’t get rid of.

Frantic at Cyil’s departure, the Nefarious Saint scrambled his words. “Wait wait. Hold on my boy. Well, what I am saying is, to sum everything up and put things in order is that I want to feed off of your soul energy. There. I said it.”

Cyil grew angry when he heard what the Nefarious Saint wanted and walked away even quicker.

But to his dismay, the Nefarious Saint’s pestering voice was still just as loud as before. Cyil no longer answered the Nefarious Saint’s questions but sprinted out of the city and to the forest. Yet, even with so much distance, the voice was still there.

“I didn’t want to do this, but you keep pushing me,” Cyil spat out, planning to destroy the object.

Running back to the market street, Cyil quickly located the vendor and asked, “how much for the pair of silver earrings?”

The vendor, an old woman with patches of white hair missing from her head, responded in a strained voice, “this has been in my family for many many years. I really didn’t want to sell it, but what use is it when I am going to die soon? I will give you a fair price: 5000 gold coins.”

“What?!” Cyil’s eyes widened. What a swindler!

“Granny, how could a kid like me have that much money? That pair of earrings is so old and it’s not even real silver; I suspect no one would pay even 1 gold coin for it. I am willing to pay you 500 gold coins and that is me being generous.”

The old lady calmly said, “it really is old and not real like you say, but it is an antique! The history behind it is worth a fortune. 4000.”

Cyil shook his head. “Forget it. How about that misshapen chain? How much does that cost?”

The old lady paused, then said, “10,000 gold coins and I’m not willing to go 1 copper coin less.”

Cyil was a fairly stable minded person but even he almost coughed up blood in disgust thinking about the hefty appetite of the old lady. “Are these magical artifacts or something?” Cyil couldn’t help thinking, then he said with a wry smile, “you won’t go any less, huh. Forget it then.”

Pointing to his real objective, Cyil said, “then what about this aged leather glove? Surely it can’t be a precious artifact, too, right?”

“Oh, that?” The old lady scoffed. “I’ll give it to you for 1995 gold coins.”

Cyil trembled. “Can you go any lower? It’s not even a pair, just a single glove. ”

The old lady grinned, revealing the gaps between her teeth.

“Fine,” Cyil said through his teeth; he didn’t really mind the price because the money he got was all ‘donated’, but he had to act pained in case the old lady increased the price once more.

Handing over the money with a less than satisfied expression, Cyil was given the smelly leather glove.

Once the exchange was finish Cyil quickly moved and returned to his rented room in the Polite Palm Pub. Each member of Ravenous Serpent had their own room, but of course Cyil didn’t so he found a different place to stay in.

Locking his door, he threw down the leather glove onto the floor.

“Ouch! Be gentle with me. I am a delicate, almighty Saint! The Nefarious Saint!”

“Yeah, that’s what you keep telling me, but you know what? To me you’re just an annoying voice in my head that won’t go away. I think I may even go crazy listening to you ramble all day.”

“Cyil my boy, I apologize for talking so much, but you still bought me in the end right? We’re friends now! Come come, just drop your blood onto the glove and we will be lifelong friends!”

Cyil lightly stepped on the glove. “Feed off my soul energy? You reassure me that it will recover and even get stronger in the process. But this whole time you never told me about why you’re in a glove, what you are, and why you choose me. You’re simply not trustworthy and you want to be friends?”

“Cyil my boy. I thought we were pass all that introductory stuff. If you had asked, I would have told you. My story is a tragic one, actually. I am, or was, a dwarf who was born a saint. Not only was I a saint but I had two saint attributes! They were the Time attribute and the Space attribute. When my father, the king of dwarves, discovered that I was a saint he kept it quiet. Dwarves are not meant to be mages and never before was a dwarf even born with an elemental body. Even more, we were slaves at the time. Slaves to the dragons!”

Speaking up to this point, the anger in the Nefarious Saint’s voice was palpable.

“My father kept me in the dark as our entire race slaved away day after day, year after year. I trained hard when I knew about the fate of my race. Although my father never said it, I knew what he wanted of me. I was to liberate the dwarves from our slavery... but when I was just a rank 4 saint, I met the love of my life. A new batch of dwarves were being transferred to my region and Ergrya was amongst them. She was the prettiest dwarf I had ever seen. Instantly we hit it off and love naturally developed, or maybe it was always there.

We talked about everything and did everything together. Ergrya was always curious and not too good with blacksmithing work so I taught her. I had long since become a master blacksmith thanks to my father’s teachings and the spells I had learned from stolen scrolls. I even developed some of my own spells…

Using some of my self-developed spells and skills at blacksmithing I managed to forge a pair of gloves that were at saint artifacts! These gloves were my proudest works at the time and I happily gifted them to Ergrya. When she saw them her eyes shone like never before. She gave me the right hand of the pair and kept the left for herself. She told me to hold onto that glove until she came back. When I heard she was leaving, I grew confused and asked her many questions but she evaded them all and simply vanished.

Not a day later my father was personally beheaded in front of my eyes by Oiyst, the supreme ruler of the dragons. Even in his death, my father’s eyes told me to wait. To endure. And to get stronger. And of course I obeyed, because my father had taken the blame for my mistake; he had claimed to have crafted the very glove that I had given to Ergrya the day before. Yet now, there it was in the hands of Oiyst who stood with a crying Ergrya that no longer appeared as a dwarf but as a tall blood scaled dragon woman. She was actually a dragon! Although her form had changed, I recognized her right away and my heart shattered.

The next day I disappeared from the prisons that could have never really hold me. With my mother dead at my birth, my father now dead, and no one to care for I traveled Nakrul far and wide. Many things happened during the 400 years I roamed Nakrul, but that was a long time ago… On my 484 birth year I finally reached the threshold of godhood. I was a rank 9 level 10 saint! I could hear a higher plane of existence calling for me and the laws of here on Nakrul could no longer bind me. I was going to ascend in less than a week, but before then I had something to attend to. I had waited long enough and could not afford to wait any longer.

When I slaughtered my way through the horde of dragons, I was unstoppable. I laughed as I stepped on Oiyst’s lopped off head and roared a cry of freedom for all my race that had waited long enough. I called to my father and told him about my success, tears falling for the first time since I was a born. That was when I broke into the dimensional barrier which contained the last of the dragon race. Their children and their hope for the future. I wanted to eradicate their cursed race, but my weak will caused me to falter. Ergrya was one of the few adult dragons guarding the eggs and kid dragons. She pleaded for me to stop and profusely apologized for showing the glove to her father. She clutched onto the glove I had so long ago given to her, and asked if I still had mine. In that moment of hesitation, I was struck by a construct of unimaginable power. I do not know what it was, but this was clearly the dragon clan’s trump card.

The construct was strong, but I was stronger by far so that it only fazed me. In that dazzling light I saw the relief expression of everyone and looking to Ergrya I could see that her eyes were the same. She was also glad I was gone. So I choose to disappear in that blinding light and let everyone believe I was dead.

I then left an incarnation of myself within the dwarven mines to protect against future threats and awaited my ascension. I spent my remaining days mulling about, but something was off. My heart would ache everyday and Nakrul seemed cold and lonely. Hah. I wasn’t even interested in ascending anymore. I tried to purposefully fail my ascension but that didn’t work and I ascended anyway. I will tell you about the higher plane I went to maybe when you are stronger, but I was like an ant there. A slightly stronger ant, but an ant nonetheless. But seeing the corruption in that place, I fought once more. I made friends. I had a reason to live again. Yet, we were too weak and we lost. I managed to escape back to this lower realm and I waited once more.

I slept for a long time and when I woke, I discovered that Nakrul had become smaller than it used to be. I found that man-made mountains now surrounded Nakrul. I found that the refreshing water particles had decreased. I found that everything had changed. More importantly, I found that a great evil has spread here. Perhaps, when I returned so long ago, something from that realm also managed to come here.”

The Nefarious Saint sighed then remain silent.

Cyil quickly shut his slightly agape mouth still trying to wrap his mind around everything he had just heard. Higher realm, godhood, ascension? Cyil had read about it from the library but they were even more mythical than the existence of the Nefarious Saint.

Cyil did not know if the story was true or not, so he simply lifted his foot off the glove and went to sit on his bed.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Cyil inquired.

The leather glove seemed to wiggle as the Nefarious Saint said, “simple! Let me show you the power of a godhood Saint!”