Dragonlord

Ep 114. Confessions of the Historian: Condition of Worth

Confessions of the Historian are non-continuous pseudo chapters that feature a timeframe far removed from the main story. They will not affect the main story’s update schedule, and will instead be uploaded at random intervals alongside them.

Ep 114. Confessions of the Historian: Condition of Worth

Choice? No such luxury existed to begin with.

It merely lived the way it was born.

It merely used what it was given.

Morality maintains peace and order. However…

Such illusory concepts have no place in the wilderness.

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“Timmy! Why these damned pests…!”

The blade furious slashed through the air. Unfortunately, it was impossible to cut down the thousands of Mire wasps flocking upon them.

And the feathered monster scoffed from afar, watching the colony he summoned devour the two hunters.

“Fools.”

Mire Forest. Otherwise known as Whitewood among men, it was a piece of land forbidden from entry.

It wasn’t because there was anything particularly important within the hazy woods.

Rather, it was simply due to how dangerous it was.

In addition to the blinding fog, the forest was naturally high in monster population. Even the natural life that inhabited the woods were far more vicious than those outside.

But despite its dangers, every year numerous hunters would visit the woods, each one seeking to slay its monsters and obtain their rare materials.

And most never make it back outside.

‘At least they lasted a while this time.’

Three days ago, a group of four hunters had entered the woods.

One had lost her way while scouting the nearby area. She’d wandered the fogs before stepping off a cliff, falling to an untimely death.

Another had made fire, confident that he could defeat anything that the light could attract. He served as bait for the SIlverfang while his friends had fled camp.

And the remaining two had just been drenched in Nevorra sap, attracting a horde of wasps that fed on their living flesh.

‘I wonder how long they would’ve lasted if I didn’t pour the sap on them.’

Numerous monsters were born with an asset to aid their survival. A giant body size, iron-tough skin…some were even born with incurable toxins.

But the black-feathered monster possessed no such assets.

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Low in strength and fragile to bone, he was nothing short of pathetic for a monster of Mire. The only ‘strengths’ he possessed were intelligence that easily rivalled humans, and a thirst that he could never quench.

And so, he’d used his intelligence for years, studying Mire’s every corner and species. Every aspect of the forest’s environment became a tool for his use, and with them, he’d outsmarted the hunters time and again.

He never expected himself to last forever. Perhaps there wasn’t even a reason for him to cling so desperately to life.

He merely lived on, according to his basic instincts. He survived day after day, dreading that he would eventually fall to a skilled hunter.

But contrary to the monster’s expectations, the person that would capture him was quite far from being a hunter.

“There you are.”

“?!”

When Xar abruptly turned his head, a lone, young man was suddenly standing at his side – as if he’d appeared out of nowhere.

Even though the fog shrouded most of their features, their crimson stare was more than enough to strike fear into the feathered monster.

‘The sap…!’

Xar immediately popped the vial open, hurling its contents across the stranger’s figure. Unfortunately, the bottle had already been emptied of its contents.

Realizing his mistake, the monster hurriedly took several steps backwards, brandishing his claws.

Not that it threatened the man before him.

“Ha! You’re not thinking that’d scare me away, are you?”

“…”

“You should know better, Soul Collector.”

Though the lone man provokingly spread out his arms, Xar found himself frozen in place.

Literally. Before he’d realized, his feet were covered in ice, firmly held onto the ground.

And soon, the ice coiled around his lefts to climb his body, freezing everything but his head in place.

“…Mage.”

“That’s right. I’m sure you see hunters all the time, but you don’t see that many mages here, do you?”

The young mage casually whistled, glancing around the foggy scenery.

“We have plenty less dangerous ways to get by, after all. Those who’d risk dangers like Mire are few and far between. Even then, the ones who do come are probably 4^th circles or less.”

The mage slowly approached Xar to face him eye to eye.

“Of course, I’m an exception.”

“…Kill me.”

“Oh? You think I’ll kill you?”

“…The humans that came to these woods…all came for the same purpose. You’d be no different.”

“Actually, no. I’m kinda different.”

“Kill me.”

“Are you even listening?...”

After letting out an exasperated sigh, the mage snapped his fingers. The ice that bound Xar in place instantly shattered apart, and their caster raised their arms into the air in a surrendering gesture.

“There, satisfied? I didn’t come here to kill you.”

“…”

“Besides…it’s not like you’ll just curl up and die easy.”

“You speak nonsense, human.”

“Oh please, there’s no need to lie. I’m a mage; you think I can’t sense manaflow from this distance?”

When the young mage pressed his finger into Xar’s body, dreadful wails escaped the monster’s figure.

Wails of the dead and captured, begging for redemption.

“I must admit though, you’re quite the interesting one. A monster that can absorb souls to make their magic his own…”

“…”

To make others’ magic one’s own.

It wasn’t a particularly useful trait at birth. But as long as its possessor survived, it was a trait that could infinitely increase in value.

In that regard, the two were quite similar to each other.

“If you were to absorb a number of quality souls, how much stronger would you become? Right now, it seems like you’ve only absorbed perhaps two mages at most. And all the other ones are next to useless…”

“…You can see the souls too, then.”

“Actually, no. I guessed.”

“…”

“How about it? If you come with me, I could give you all the souls you’d like. No hunter will ever pose a threat to you again.”

“…I do not trust humans.”

“And you have better things to trust?”

“…”

“Pray tell, what DO you trust then? The brainless beasts of Whitewood? The hunters that are after your throat? Compared to those, I’m quite the enticing option, aren’t I?”

“…What do you want.”

When the young mage heard Xar speak his desired question, a thin, accomplished grin curved his lips.

And in a low, gentle voice, he whispered towards the monster before him.

“Join the empire, Xar.”

“…”

“And I’ll immediately execute ten of my most skilled mages. Their magic and affinity will be yours to take.”

“…You’re…”

Xar trailed off his words, scanning the mage head to toe. The young man seemed no older than three decades, but their words indicated far more authority than he would’ve imagined.

“Ah, that’s right. Where are my manners?”

Brushing back his golden hair, the mage’s crimson eyes let off an eerie glow.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Amadeus Lavnore, ruler of the new Akeian empire.”

“…”

“Perhaps you’d like proof? Would burning down this entire forest do the trick?”

Xar scoffed at the offered ‘proof.’ While he doubted the offer’s authenticity, the emperor’s tone certainly didn’t sound like they were joking.

“…No. That won’t be necessary.”

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It wasn’t a particularly notable beginning.

One merely wanted an end to his days of being hunted. The other merely wanted a capable subject under his rule.

But despite their differences, they recognized the similarity between them. And they didn’t doubt for a moment that the other would prove to be an invaluable asset.

And they were correct in assuming so.

For, not long after their meeting, the two would bring the continent’s most feared creatures to heel.