After slaying one Wither, Eric didn't stop.
Monts later, another Wither was summoned, only to be destroyed by the very man who brought it into existence.
Using obsidian as a base, he set a Nether Star upon it and sealed it beneath a do of glass. The result was a beacon, radiating with power and purity.
[Achievent Unlocked: Bring Ho the Beacon]
A soft click echoed through the grand hall of the castle as Eric placed the newly crafted beacon atop a fully built pyramid of mineral blocks. Then, with a craftsman's care, he replaced the ceiling above it with glass.
In an instant, a brilliant white beam of light surged upward, piercing through the night sky, stretching toward the heavens beyond sight.
[Achievent Unlocked: Beacon Engineer]
The air trembled as two forces pulsed outward: Strength and Regeneration.
Throughout the territory, people felt it. Their bodies seed lighter, stronger, alive. Minor cuts healed without notice. Fatigue faded. And all of it, the miracle of strength and recovery, ca from one place — the lord's castle at the heart of the realm.
Even though it was the middle of the night, hundreds of residents left their beds, drawn by the sight. They gathered outside, gazing in awe at the pillar of light. So dropped to their knees, praying as though to a god who had revealed himself upon the earth.
Their faces reflected devotion, reverence, and a touch of fanatic wonder.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Inside the castle, Eric ran a hand over the beacon's glass shell. Within, the Nether Star glowed like a flawless white gem, its radiance clearer than mithril and purer than moonlight. Around it shimred a faint azure halo, soft as daylight after rain.
Few things in this world could rival its beauty. Perhaps only the legendary Silmarils.
Though the Silmarils, in comparison, held a power far beyond — sacred, burning, capable of blinding evil with a single glance. The beacon, by contrast, was an impartial force. It blessed all equally, friend and foe alike.
As Eric stepped out of the castle, he nearly jumped back in surprise.
A crowd had gathered at the gates.
"What are you all doing here?"
"My lord," one of the townsfolk said reverently, stepping forward with a hand over his chest, "we've co to witness the miracle you've wrought."
Eric sighed and waved them off. "Alright, alright, you've seen enough. Go ho. It's late. Get so sleep."
He added, deadpan, "If you don't, the sun will burn your backsides tomorrow morning."
A hush fell. One man blinked. "The… sun will burn our backsides?"
He tilted his head, clearly confused, and began ntally playing out the scenario — soone snoring away, sprawled in bed, while sunlight slowly crept up and scorched their…
"Oh!" He suddenly nodded in enlightennt. "I see! How humorous, my lord!"
The rest of the villagers exchanged puzzled glances as the man tried to explain the joke with great enthusiasm. By morning, the phrase "the sun will burn your backside" had already spread like wildfire through the settlent — a new proverb, courtesy of their very own lord.
Children would soon learn to fear those words whenever they overslept.
"Understood, my lord!" the villagers chorused before reluctantly dispersing, though many lay awake that night, minds filled with the image of that shining white pillar and the man who had created it.
Once the crowd was gone and Eric had pushed the curious pink dragonling's head back through the window — "No, you can't sleep on the roof, Blush " — he climbed the tower once more.
There, using another Nether Star, he forged a new magical core: Guardian.
A dangerous relic. Its power was extre, uncontrollable if mishandled. To overuse it would an inviting ruin — not only for his enemies but himself. True protection could, if twisted too far, beco eternal tornt.
He spent the entire night studying it, testing its limits under the pale glow of the beacon.
By dawn, sunlight stretched over the hills, washing the village in gold. In the central square, a small crowd had already ford again, murmuring while staring up at the glowing column above the castle.
Even Pinky had woken early, draped over the treetop like a lazy cat, eyes fixed on the light.
"Don't fall off that branch," Eric muttered, climbing up just to nail a small railing to the platform.
The dragonling imdiately stuck its head through the gap between the bars, staring through it like a child pressing its face against a window.
"Just so we're clear," Eric said, "if I hear you yelp because your head's stuck, you're solving that yourself."
He checked the width — it was just barely wide enough not to trap the little troublemaker — then jumped back down, patting the huge hound lying in the grass nearby.
Stretching lazily, he decided to take a stroll around his domain.
And that was when he heard voices.
"Rember what I told you?"
A calm, elderly voice drifted from a small house nearby — one that looked slightly different from the others, with shelves and books visible through the window.
"Yes, sir!" several young voices answered in unison.
Curious, Eric pushed open the door.
"My lord!"
The old man at the desk straightened at once, bowing deeply. The children scrambled to their feet and mimicked him, though their clumsy attempts at formality were more adorable than proper.
Eric smiled, motioning for them to sit. He crouched slightly to pat the head of the nearest child.
"What's going on here?"
"I'm teaching the children, my lord," the old man replied, a gentle warmth in his tone.
"Ah, so this is a classroom," Eric said, glancing around. The room indeed looked scholarly — bookshelves lined the walls, stacked with both new and worn volus. Papers and quills lay neatly arranged on the large central table.
The shelves bore nas written in careful ink.
"Their parents asked to teach them," the old man explained. "I've been giving lessons in reading, writing, and a bit of history."
Eric's expression softened.
Education. He'd been so focused on construction, expansion, and defense that he hadn't considered schooling. When the population was small, there hadn't been enough children for it to matter. But now… things had changed.
"You seem new here," Eric observed. "I don't recall seeing you before. Did you arrive recently?"
"Yes, my lord," the old man said. His voice carried a tone of old dignity. "I ca from the western edge of Arnorien — between the great forest and the river's mouth. I once served as a librarian in a small town there."
"Arnorien…" Eric rubbed his chin. "That's north of Gondor, isn't it? What happened to your town?"
The scholar sighed softly. "It wasn't always like that, my lord. When I was young, our town was full of life. rchants ca and went. Children played in the streets. But over the years, orcs began appearing in the forests. Wolves with crimson eyes prowled the outskirts. People left — most fled southeast, toward Minas Tirith. In ti, only a few of us old fools remained."
"I stayed for the books. For the knowledge we'd preserved over generations. I tended the garden, kept the hearth lit, and read to pass the days. Until one night, a pack of orc riders broke in."
Eric's expression grew still.
"I thought that would be my end," the scholar continued, "but a ranger appeared — quick as shadow, bow on his back, an ancient sword at his side. He cut them down and pulled from the fire."
"He told ," the old man went on, "that if I didn't wish to go to Minas Tirith, I could travel west. That a new city had risen there, one that welcod wanderers and the displaced. He even offered to escort ."
Eric's brows arched, amusent glinting in his eyes. "And this ranger — what happened to him?"
"He said he was heading further west, my lord, to a place called the Forgotten Inn."
Eric couldn't help it. He laughed — quietly, but with clear delight.
"Well, I'll be damned. That guy's still wandering around, is he?"
A ranger with an ancient sword and a habit of frequenting the Forgotten Inn. There was only one man that could be. It had been years since they'd parted ways. And yet sohow, he'd still managed to send another odd soul his way.
The scholar, noticing the lord's faint smirk, suddenly paled. "My lord… forgive ! I didn't an to gather the children or teach without your leave. It was presumptuous of !"
Eric raised a hand. "No harm done. In fact, I should thank you."
The old man looked up, startled.
Eric smiled. "Our population's been growing fast, and so have the number of children. It's ti we built a proper school — a place for learning and teaching. And I can't think of anyone better suited for the role than you."
He extended a hand. "What do you say, Professor? Care to beco our first teacher?"
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