Following a short flight, Vahn touched down atop a thick tree branch and observed as Eva and Amalia dismounted their Dragoturkeys and rushed to the aid of the trio he had sensed being attacked.
The oldest, at least at a glance, was a bald man with large, rounded ears, a spiky white ponytail sprouting from the back of his head, and an impressive beard, its bead-adorned mustache bouncing as he bellowed orders. Thick eyebrows lent his expression an ever-stern quality, but his tattered poncho—beige at its base, patterned with fading green accents—softened the impression into that of a wanderer rather than a general. His weapon caught Vahn’s attention imdiately: a casar, the Egyptian variant of a halberd, its silvery-white crescent edge gleaming despite the battered shaft. The gold base had been reinforced with bindings of parchnt, worn smooth where callused hands had gripped it countless tis.
Eva moved with nimble precision across the battlefield, her posture betraying years of drilled form—knees bent just so, shoulders rolling loose between shots, every arrow vanishing into energy a heartbeat before finding its mark. Amalia, anwhile, favored spectacle over subtlety, coaxing thick, thorn-wrapped roots from the soil to tear the terrain asunder. Vahn noted she directed them almost playfully, less like a tactician controlling the field and more like a child gleefully setting obstacles for unwelco guests.
His gaze, however, lingered on the second mber of the attacked group. The youth carried himself like fire incarnate: hair spiked and styled in blazing tufts of orange that seed more fla than fiber, skin bronzed from sun and soot, eyes sharp with the hue of heated steel touched by embers. His ears were long and Elven, yet there was sothing sharper—almost feral—in their angle. His clothes bore more scars than their wearer: a once-white tunic trimd in crimson, now threadbare, the cross-shaped sword sigil across his chest faded and cracked; loose, black gi-pants bound haphazardly by a rope belt; crimson bandages wound tightly at his ankles, grounding the look with black moccasins armored in crimson-trimd plating dotted with four-pointed, star-like patterns.
Striking as the young man was, it was his weapon that demanded attention. He swung it not like a blade but a club, battering the shadow-born creatures into flat motes of smoke. The greatsword’s brownish blade resembled fractured stone fused, the gaps glowing with a baleful crimson light. A broad, tapering guard stretched like the snarling jaws of a beast, edged with fangs, while its poml sprouted a tuft of coarse black hair. Most unsettling was the eye—set into either side of the guard, crimson-lidded, its shifting black pupil glaring at the world as though it, too, were fighting. It spoke in a low, gravelly voice, its words dripping with disdain as it hurled insults at its wielder.
The youth snarled right back, his own barbs cutting through the din of battle as effortlessly as his swings. To Vahn, it painted a picture not of swordsman and sword, but of two volatile tempers bound to but resentful toward one another—sparks and stone grinding until one inevitably gave way.
’This swordsman has trendous potential...’ thought Vahn, sensing the faint embers of Divinity smoldering at the core of the swordsman’s being, waiting to burst into an inferno. This should have made the tanned youth the most stand-out mber of the group, but even with the embers of a God burning within him, it was their youngest-looking mber that drew the preponderance of Vahn’s interest.
Though he was only 110cm, appearing no older than eight to ten years old, Vahn watched as the youngest-looking mber of the group used circular, bluish-white portals cast from his hands to dart about the forest battlefield like it was his playground. He had muted, spiky blonde hair, an oversized turquoise hat with faux, cat-like ears, and a long, cylindrical tail that ended in a large tuft of spiky, off-white fur. The rest of his outfit was a simple, sowhat tattered orange tunic with a large button on the front, tattered turquoise shorts that matched the color of his hat, and sowhat odd shoes—possessing dark brown soles and a turquoise bill that folded over his feet, fixed in place by off-white bindings. This left the backs and sides of his feet exposed, similar to a pair of slippers but unlike any Vahn had seen.
The youth’s slippers and young age aside, it was the energy contained within his body and the portals he flung about that garnered him Vahn’s attention. He could evidently only tap into a minuscule fraction of it, but the young had a veritable ocean’s worth of vital energy contained within his tiny fra. And though he was focused on the battle, Vahn could tell he was having fun, likening the boy to a young Goku but with the added versatility of portals.
’That kid has to be the Protagonist of this setting...’ determined Vahn, comparing the young boy to the others present. Even the old man had a strong life force despite his advanced age. As for the rest, they were the larval form of a God, a Princess, a Princess’s Guardian, and, flitting about along the periphery of the battlefield, a tiny, spheroidal bird resembling a baby chick but capable of flight. Combined with Amalia’s prophecy, it was clear to him that the hodge-podge group was ant to accomplish great things together. The question then beca: should he accompany them and perhaps grow himself, or remove himself from the situation to enable them to fly free and fulfill their destinies without the influence of exterior forces?
"Kyaaa! Stay away, you little monsters...!" exclaid Amalia, drawing both Vahn’s and Eva’s attentions, the latter shouting, "Amalia...!" as she rushed to her friend and Princess’s aid. A small number of the shadowy creatures had managed to get the jump on her as she was crouched down, focusing on controlling her vines. But before they could swipe at her with their tiny but sharp-looking claws, Vahn naturally extended his right hand and used his Domain to pull them away.
Noticing her attackers get flung back by an invisible force, Amalia looked up at where she knew Vahn was observing them from, finding him waving back at her with a faint smile. She would have preferred it if he dealt with the monsters and saved her the effort of having to exert herself, but that didn’t stop her from beaming and reciprocating with a cursory peace sign before she used a thick, thorn-covered vine to brutally whip her would-be assailants into inky-black paste...
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With the last of the shadow-ford creatures dealt with, the fiery-haired youth raised his sword skyward and boldly proclaid, "And yet another victory for Sir Percedal of Sadlygrove! I knew a bunch of Polters couldn’t defeat us...!"
"Says the self-proclaid Knight saved by two girls," quipped Percedal’s sword, prompting a vein to bulge at the fiery-haired youth’s temple before he began slamming the talking sword against a tree.
While Percedal was busy raging at his sword, the oldest and youngest mbers of the group convened with Eva and Amalia near the center of the clearing they were in, the younger of the two eyeing the two won with faintly enchanted eyes and a broad smile as he expressed, "Thanks a lot, friends. We would have been in a real sticky situation if you two hadn’t appeared when you did. My na’s Yugo, from the village of Elka. May I ask what your nas are?"
"What a polite boy," remarked Eva, adopting a faint, approving smile as she touched her right hand to her chest and courteously revealed, "My na is Evangelyne. And this here is—"
"Amalia Sheran Sharm," chid Amalia, posing with her hands on her hips and her chest puffed proudly as she added, "Daughter of the Sadida King, Sheran Sharm, and Princess of the Sadida Kingdom."
"Oh? To think it was a Princess that ca to our aid. It’s usually the other way around..." remarked the old man, making a show of bowing deeply as he stated, "Ah, where are my manners? The na’s Ruel Stroud, seasoned adventurer and treasure hunter. It’s a pleasure to make the acquaintance of two exceptionally beautiful young ladies. Though, technically speaking, this is our second ti eting."
"Did you hear that, Rubi? She says she’s a Princess...!" shouted Percedal, moving like a blur to join the group before striking a heroic pose intended to show off his lanky muscles as he exclaid, "Greetings, Princess! The nas—"
"Yeah, yeah—Sir Percedal of Sadlygrove, right...?" interrupted Amalia, folding her arms and looking unimpressed as she shifted her weight in a way that flared out her right hip as she droned, "I heard you shouting it before."
Drawing everyone’s attention, the chick-like bird that had been flitting around landed atop Yugo’s head, prompting him to look up, beam, and remark, "Oh, yeah, this is my friend, Az. He may be a Tofu, but the two of us have been like brothers since we were small."
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"We also have soone else to introduce~" chid Amalia, prompting a wry smile to briefly adorn Vahn’s lips as she took the liberty to gesture up at him, smiling as she announced, "It is my honor as a Sadida Princess to introduce the Dragon God, Vahn Mason."
Startling Yugo, Percedal, Ruel, and Az, Vahn promptly teleported to join the small gathering, his smile easing into a more relaxed expression as he remarked, "I wasn’t expecting to be introduced in such a manner, but it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Once again, I am Vahn Mason, the Dragon God of Infinite Possibilities."
"Dragon!? But you look like any other person to !" blurted Percedal, his skepticism clear in his expression.
"You would be wise to mind your words, Iop," quipped Eva, crossing her arms and boldly asserting, "This is rely the form the Dragon God takes to interact with mortals. If he were to appear in his true form, you’d either have soiled yourself or charged at him like a fool."
’Wasn’t the girl doubting my status and identity just an hour ago...?’ Vahn mused, both surprised and amused by Eva’s shalessness. At the sa ti, he transford just his right arm into a draconic appendage, holding it up for the group to view as he asserted, "I am who I claim to be, but I’ll not fault you for choosing to believe otherwise. I am not one of those who preside over this, The World of Twelve, so while I expect a certain degree of deference, you do not owe your belief or deification."
"Ugh, I feel like my ears are burning just listening to you. If you’re really a Dragon God, let’s see you prove it...!" countered Percedal, brandishing his sword, which, out of combat, resembled a dagger.
"Bwahahahaha! Let’s do this...!" shouted Precedal’s sword, swelling to its greatsword form and exuding a nacing energy.
"Even for an Iop, this is a bad idea," remarked Ruel, wisely backing away from the potential conflict. He couldn’t sense any power from Vahn at all, but that was even more suspicious than if he had been broadcasting it like a fla. Thus, while he was curious to see how things played out, he had no intention of being nearby as they did.
While calmly gesturing for Eva and Amalia to remain silent and back away, Vahn held Percedal’s gaze with a relaxed smile, even as the youth swung his sword in an overhead arc directed at his left shoulder. To the surprise of those present, he made no obvious attempt to protect himself, allowing the surprisingly heavy sword to strike his left shoulder—where it failed to tear the fabric of his yukata, much less budge him.
"Launching a potentially fatal blow at soone you’ve just t isn’t very Knight-like..." comnted Vahn, causing the confused look on Percedal’s face to turn to shock as he slipped around the heavy sword’s blade and struck the fiery-haired youth in the chest with a casual palm strike. As a result, Percedal was sent flying backward as if he had been fired from a cannon, his body slamming into a tree with a trunk more than ten ters in diater, cratering its surface on impact and causing his eyes to turn white as he coughed up blood and promptly fell unconscious...
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