Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Chapter 1276: The Dragon's Saviour



Agmold, Pelian.

The royal capital of Pelian remained standing. Fortunately, it hadn't been within the range of the blast of Skullius' final gambit ray, the bit of it that Jiggorrhax restrained, at least.

A frightening pressure was pulsing through the city. It didn't affect the citizens, who, while rattled, were perfectly fine, but it did deter a majority of the Carven that had tried to approach from reaching the city. Even their boundless zeal was frozen stiff by the presence of a formidable creature in the city.

Still, the Carven kept circling around Agmold, waiting for the stronger ones among them to arrive and lead them against the powerful enemy.

Within the King's residence, all the guards had been removed. Well, they wouldn't have stayed even if King Royan hadn't told them to leave. The throne room was plastered with a pale blue hue that covered everything from the carpets on the floor, to the chandeliers on the ceiling and the frames on the walls. The normal colours of all ornaments had been banished, and now they adopted this sickly hue.

Oddly, the hue grew more and more intense as one moved towards the throne.

King Royan had tried to reason with the bastard of a bird who had caused this. Asthon wouldn't listen. He had erected his dormant Territory here without even asking for permission; not that he ever asked King Royan for permission for anything else he did. Within the dormant Territory, an expansive, frosty mountain scape could be seen. Hills and mountains frosted with ice covered as far as the eye could see, a wide, starless sky overhead. It was dark and gloomy. No light was expelled from it. Instead, all the frost-layered features within it – the Imaginary GeoScape - were what lit up the entire space.

At the moment though, there wasn't much light to go around.

A humongous mass was perked, packed and peeking beyond the mountains and hills. As vast as Asthon's Territory was, it barely managed to contain the charred, black, but healing body of the Herald, Jiggorrhax.

The dragon's eyes were barely open. He was conscious. The flakes of snow that constantly fell unreasonably from the empty, dark sky above collected in heaps over his burnt flesh only to melt moments later and heal portions of it. The progress was slow, but it was steady.

"How long will it take for him to regenerate his own powers? The effects of my Territory will probably take a week to heal him fully," Asthon said.

The small, dark bird was standing in the air beside a ghostly Giant, Sause. They were both looking down at Jiggorrhax's vast heard which was resting over a conical hill with extra frosty glaze. It almost looked like some freaky pillow perfect for the giant medical patient.

"I'm not sure. I didn't know Elder Jiggorrhax as well as I did Elder Jerthrax. Knowing him, he'll probably be alright by the end of the day. Hopefully," Sause said. Concern was painted over his face for all to see.

After Jiggorrhax had saved the world from the great blast, Sause had been trying to work out how to extract his Elder's body from the great, toxic pit when Asthon had arrived, offering to help. Sause had not been deceived by the bird's small stature. He had instantly been able to deduce its unfathomable powers from its soul. Asthon did the same.

The two seemed to recognise their age of the other's soul.

Both bird and Giant were fossils born and raised before the flames of the First Grand War. They had been alive for a very long time, and knew many things, many secrets. At once, they had connected. Sause had seen enough of a reason to trust Asthon, at least in a preliminary fashion.

"I didn't think mortals could temper with time to such a degree. Imagine my surprise when Aigas was ripped like a cloth," Asthon said. "But now I am not sure how exactly all this can be resolved. A Deity is trying to murder the world."

Sause sniffled.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it if I wasn't going to be participating in the fighting, ahaha," he said.

Asthon turned to him.

"Don't judge me. A relic of old like me is meant to watch and wait until the time is right. And you're one to talk. Where are you now when the world is at threat?"

"At home. Enjoying the peace and quiet. Well, I was."

"I could say the same."

A pause took hold. The blowing of the cold wind filled the gap.

"I loathe heading into conflicts when you humanoids are the ones blessed with the ability to seamlessly reach Divinity," the bird said.

Sause chortled.

"Blessed, you think?" he said. "Well, I don't particularly loathe fighting. However, I only have one fight left in me, I think. A bombastic one, outside this world. I think I'll live till then."

***

Somewhere beyond Feinheath.

"Your penance will be great."

"I know that. I'm all too extravagantly fed up with the disclaimers. I wouldn't have willingly delivered myself into your hands if I didn't think so extravagantly low about my deeds."

The faceless entity cackled with a mouth that could not be seen.

Guissepo seethed, but he did not say anything else.

"What makes you think that simply admitting you're wrong automatically makes you a saint? Your actions need to echo from your mind and soul till you weep," the faceless entity said harshly. "Already millions are dead because you sought purpose in an evil god, Guissepo. It might have already been written that Boron would ascend to Aigas one day, but it was never written that it had to be by your hands."

Guissepo frowned.

Before Boron's rise, he had contemplated and considered that he had made a huge mistake. His desire to have everyone suffer the same without the boundaries of status... He had seen how flawed it was when he saw the beings he had been siding with. The stone-like creatures that called themselves the Carven were going to slaughter humans happily, and he was going to be hailed as the sole reason why.

It struck Guissepo too late that this was wrong. But he was determined to help stop it

somehow.

Thus, he had gone and found the third Herald of the three Deities of Aigas.

Unfortunately for him though, the only one he got an audience with was the Emissary, a faceless entity that represented the will of the Herald.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Listen, Guissepo. Should this world survive what you have caused, your penance shall be even more gruelling. The punishment I am dishing now is to help curb the invasion of the spawn of Boron. However things turn out, make sure you remember this: You will pay dearly."