Chapter 1: Eternal Sovereignty of Our King

Chapter 1: Eternal Sovereignty of Our King

The wilderness sweltered under a harsh heat, with the buzz of mosquitoes hovering over the marshes. Ratfolk, with their pointed snouts and gaunt cheeks, dragged their hefty tails, moving stones to block the entrance of their burrows, preparing to hide there for days or even weeks. This was the wasteland connected to the Abyss, where, after the demise of the Demon Lord, the Forest of Omnis was enslaved by the kingdom. Now, both the serpentfolk of Omnis and the ratfolk of the wilderness struggled to survive under the kingdom's whip.

"I loathe humans," grumbled a ratfolk, dragging a stone. "They are insatiably greedy, not even sparing the dung of the wilderness!"

"Not so loud, my dear," his wife, adorned in a tattered apron, whispered, covering her protruding teeth with her forepaws in fear. "They are omnipresent, and could drag us to the marketplace at any moment, selling us off like merchandise. I still remember our poor little son, dragged away by his tail and carried off on horseback."

"Damn that Shago," cursed the ratfolk as he piled stones at the entrance of his burrow. "Damn the Expeditionary Forces, they killed the Demon Lord. What good did killing him do? I truly don't understand why they would go to such lengths to do such a thing."

"Let's not dwell on such sorrowful matters," his wife said, gnawing on the bitter, juicy Herb of Sorrow and wiping her eyes with the apron. "Oh, let's not. I miss His Majesty the Demon Lord. He never had a penchant for trading ratfolk. Though humans often say we lack dignity, we're not nightingales, singing for their amusement is not our forte, and it's unreasonable for them to lash us for that."

"I hope I never encounter a human," the ratfolk fumed as he burrowed into his den, blocking the entrance with stones alongside his wife. "Otherwise, I'd bite his throat and make him sing before he dies!"

No sooner had he spoken than the marshland quaked with the sound of horse hooves. The ratfolk immediately embraced his wife, their tails quivering in the darkness.

"Oh, oh dear heavens," the wife trembled in a whisper. "They've come again."

"To hell with them," the ratfolk peered outside through a crevice, seething. "These two-legged fiends! Butchers! They... Oh, Saya!" he suddenly trembled, clutching his wife tightly, "They're heading towards our home."

"I love you, Peter," his wife sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want to be sold. If they come in, bite my throat, please, my dear."

The overwhelming sound of horse hooves passed like a sudden storm, even dislodging the stones at the entrance of the den. The ratfolk curled up in whimpers, trembling like leaves in the shadows of their burrow. However, the group merely passed by, their steeds draped in brocade, their boots embroidered with gold, swords inlaid with jewels, regal and haughty.

"Where are they headed?" the wife asked, still trembling.

"To the Forest of Omnis," the ratfolk gazed from the edge of the burrow. "They're off to plunder the Forest of Omnis again... Poor serpentfolk, devoid of the Demon Lord's protection, they have nowhere to hide."

"Lord Shaun will protect the serpentfolk," his wife began to cry. "The Abyss watches over them, but how could they do this? I swear by the fire god Ankleos, the serpentfolk never left the Forest of Omnis, why must they suffer such a fate?"

"Damn that Shago," the ratfolk cursed again. "If only he hadn't killed the Demon Lord..."

"Randolph!" the rider called out to the man at the front, "Hey, his Majesty only ordered us to retrieve the unicorn, he didn't command us to visit the Omniscient Forest again!"

"Indeed, he didn't." Grin Randolph, a handsome young man with brown hair and black eyes, sat high on his horse, his demeanor as audacious as the rose crest of the Grin family on his chest. "But I want to go. I wish to bring Arthur the finest gift. There are Treant's Tears in the Omniscient Forest, and I must obtain them from the serpent folk."

"Listen, my friend!" the man blocking with his horse spoke, "Don’t do this. The Temple is already displeased with the Knights for their repeated plundering of the forest. You must stop!"

"Ah ha." Randolph reined in his horse, circling around the man. "Let’s see who this is – the coward from the Zorton family, Sig. The Knights only belong to Arthur; I only heed the King's commands. The glory of the Temple has long faded; now is the age of the Knights. We wield more deterrence than wizards. Why should I listen to what a bunch of old men have to say?"

"Don't be so, Randolph." Sig's lips, half-pursed and dry, spoke, "If you persist in your ways, the Temple will cease all financial support to the Knights."

"Do you see here, my friend?" Randolph pointed to the rose on his chest, "The kingdom's treasury—Prairie Green. I have no need for their taxes, no need for the family shield. Now step aside, and please take it as a courtesy for our acquaintance that I said 'please.'"

Sigurd wanted to say more, but Randolph had already spurred his horse past him. The wilderness stretched vast and endless, with only a dark silhouette of the distant Omniscient Forest visible. He couldn't turn back; he too served in the Order of Paladins, so he had no choice but to whip his steed and follow.

It wasn't until deep into the night that the Order reached the Omniscient Forest, near the Lost Canyon, once a guardian of the Abyssal Demon Lord. Randolph navigated with ease, and as his torch parted the darkness, illuminating the heart of the forest, the wails of the serpentfolk reverberated throughout.

"I've come to visit again." Randolph, hand resting on his sword, boot on the rugged bark, spoke with a casual tone, "Welcome me, old friend. This time I won't slaughter the serpentfolk; I just want the Tears of the Treant. The Demon Lord entrusted them to the serpentfolk; you've flourished under the Treant's blessings, wearing them. Look at your serpent eggs; you have plenty. Now, I want those tears for myself. Do you hear me?"

"Begone." Rustling sounds spread through the forest, and the irritated flick of serpent tails beat against the trunks, a chorus from all directions chanting, "Begone!"

With no mercy, Randolph threw his torch onto the ancient trees. His face flickered in the firelight as he drew his sword amidst the trees' screams.

"Unfriendly breed, perhaps I need to teach you manners again. Glaran, for the sake of your newborn princess, I assume you wouldn't want my sword stained red," Randolph said, his ears pierced by the trees' lament. He squinted, kicking over a log engulfed in flames, "Hurry, Glaran, give me what I want, or I'll ensure the Omniscient Forest lives on only in the bards' memories."

"Butcher." A long-haired man emerged from the flames, his pupils sharp, fixating on Randolph, "What do you want with the Treant's Tears? Human affairs need no aid; you've never had a fertility crisis."

"I know it's the most beautiful gemstone," Randolph replied, "It belongs to my king, not you. The serpentfolk fail to see their predicament. You're filthy, slippery, luring humans with your allure, once snatching away their children. We're merely repeating your past deeds. I haven't even exterminated your kin; you should thank me, instead of prattling on."

"Lies!" Glaran's furious tail whipped the ground, stirring dust and dead leaves, "Lies! The serpentfolk never left the forest! We've no need to snatch human children! You believed Chagar's lies, you killed the Abyssal King, you weave lies to defame all races! Butcher! Leave my land! The forest will never forgive you!"

"I prefer a calm conversation." Randolph stood upright, "If that fails, I get very angry." A hint of boredom surfaced on his handsome face, "You've angered me, Glaran. I won't give you another chance; you must face my wrath. The serpentfolk will forever be enslaved, the forest will burn to ashes tonight, and you—oh, your beauty amazes me. You can join my brothel with your wife, daughter, and sons. I assure you, you'll be the happiest family."

"Randolph!" The forest trembled in the blaze, and serpentfolk hissed as they slithered. Glaran's long hair fluttered back in the firelight. Holding a vine staff, he slammed it on the ground, leaves swirling up, "Tonight I stand here, even in death I stand. The serpentfolk will embrace death with the forest, the Abyss forever watching us. I will burn my life, offering an everlasting light for my fallen Demon Lord!"

The hisses of the serpentfolk rolled like surging waves, the forest quaked violently, even the Mourning Sirens on the Cliffs of Farewell were startled awake, and the slumbering dragon in the sea of clouds raised its head in a furious roar. Glaran shone brightly in the fire, the tear on his vine staff glowing mistily, his tail stirring the winds.

"I see it," Randolph, entranced, gazed at the white gem, advancing steadily toward Glaran with his sword, "It's truly... beautiful."

In the abyssal darkness, a heart began to beat faintly. The darkness concealed the stars, with only the heartbeat audible. The beating persisted, gradually pulsing with life. Breath emerged, weak at first, then increasingly rapid.

As the dragon flapped its wings toward the burning forest, and the Mourning Sirens' piercing laments echoed through the Abyss, a thornbird suddenly burst forth from the darkness.

The thornbird soared higher and higher, through the flames, passing by the burning Glaran.

"An everlasting light." Glaran murmured his last, "My king eternal."