I woke with a painfully full and unsettled stomach. I had forced down an entire arm's worth of the monster's meat the day before, but I knew the reprieve was temporary. What should I do? The gnawing worry of survival was a constant companion. I needed more food, a clean water source, and my wounds still throbbed with a dull, persistent ache.
A small relief came as I felt a familiar warmth pool within me—my mana had finally replenished. I used my storage magic to secure the rest of the monster's corpse in my inventory. It was time to leave this cursed mountain and find safer ground. I made the careful, aching climb down, and when my feet hit the barren plain, I scanned the area. It seemed clear. Phew.
I started walking, choosing a direction at random. The landscape was a monotonous hell of jagged, thorny mountains under that perpetual, sickly purple sky. I moved like a ghost, my senses stretched taut, every shadow a potential threat.
After hours of trudging, I was chewing the last stringy chunks of saved meat when I saw it: structures carved directly into the sides of the thorny mountains. They looked like dwellings. How can there be civilization in a place like this? I crept closer, using the jagged terrain for cover.
I saw them then: small, dwarf-like creatures covered in shaggy, unkempt hair, each one carrying a wand twice their own height. Magic? They use magic here too? I observed them until one of them spun around, its beady eyes locking onto me.
"Scree! A human!" it shrieked, its voice echoing.
Huh? They can speak?
In moments, I was surrounded by a chattering, curious horde of the hairy creatures. They weren't overtly aggressive, just intensely fascinated. An older creature, using its tall wand as a walking stick, hobbled forward. It looked me up and down with an ancient, appraising gaze.
"We have waited so long," it rasped. "Finally, someone has come."
What? They were waiting for someone? Confused but sensing no immediate danger, I let them herd me toward the center of their village, where a large, flat red stone sat on a pedestal.
"Human, you may be very confused," the elder said. "But we have done much research and wished to impart this knowledge." He gestured to the slab, its surface covered in intricate carvings.
---
[The slab]
Before the magic's gentle art,
The only way was strength and might.
Then wonder stirred in every heart,
And people stepped into the light.
The ones who learned the magic's way
Were called the Draughts, both wise and bold.
The Naughts, who chose the old to stay,
On brute and simple force took hold.
A war began between the two,
Their differences too great to mend.
So to the poles the nations flew,
Beginning stories without end.
The Draughts now live where Southern winds blow cold,
A story that the ice has often told.
The Naughts up North, a different path they tread,
With hardened fists and stubborn hearts instead.
But sometimes comes a soul, a chosen one,
To share their wisdom till their time is done.
They're welcomed as a god, a guiding light,
Who helps to make the Draughts' great purpose right.
Our goal is clear, our mission has been set,
A world where Naughts and their old ways are met
With final peace, a silence and a grace,
We'll wipe their foolish kind from this world's face.
---
So, this was a world cleaved in two by an ancient war: Magic versus Physical strength. The magic users were the Draughts, and the brutes were the Naughts. Shouldn't magic win easily? Then my eyes caught a final, stark record carved at the bottom of the slab: a win-loss tally of 101-101.
They've fought 101 battles, and it's a perfect tie? The sheer, grinding length of this conflict was staggering. The hatred must run bone-deep.
The creatures around me began to bow and kneel. The elder, who introduced himself as King Rugidigus, spoke again, his voice trembling with emotion. "We hope you will be a great light for us Draughts. Welcome to our humble kingdom."
The Draughts erupted into celebration, jumping and cheering. My feelings were a tangled knot. Relief warred with apprehension. They saw me as a prophesied savior, a role I had neither asked for nor wanted.
"Let us hold a feast for our new hero, who will help us finally defeat the Naughts!" King Rugidigus announced. "Until then, we shall prepare the ceremony!"
I was led to a large, open area where the Draughts formed a wide circle. At its center, a single sword was thrust upright into a stone pedestal. Why a sword in a kingdom that venerates magic?
"What you see before you is an ancient weapon," the King explained. "It was left behind by a hero who aided us long ago. Most cannot even shift it, but it has become a symbol of hope. We always begin our ceremony by having new heroes receive its blessing."
I wonder whose sword it was. As I approached, the Draughts cheered louder, some clutching strange, wilted-looking flowers. Sigh, I'll play along for now. It's the price for food and shelter.
The sword was magnificent, its blade untarnished and gleaming, its hilt adorned with sparkling jewels. It looked less like a tool of war and more like a sacred relic. I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the hilt.
The moment my skin made contact, a jolt of icy cold shot up my arm, followed immediately by a wave of soothing, warm energy that flooded my entire being. The sword felt... profoundly lonely, as if it had been waiting an eternity for this very touch.
"Whoaaa!!"
"Waaaaaaa!!!"
Shouts of pure astonishment erupted around me. I opened my eyes—I hadn't realized I'd closed them—to see every Draught staring at me in stunned silence. King Rugidigus's jaw was slack with awe.
I looked down at my own hand. It felt weighted, yet perfectly balanced. Without any conscious effort on my part, the beautiful sword was now held firmly in my grasp, effortlessly freed from its stony prison.
---
[Cherry's POV]
Far away, in the harsh, frozen reaches of the north, a different coronation was taking place. Giant, hulking creatures—the Naughts—roared and beat their chests in a frenzy of celebration. In their midst stood a black-haired girl with a powerful, muscular build. She was a stark contrast to the dark, brutish forms around her.
This girl had just defeated the reigning king of the Naughts in single combat. Now, she was their newly crowned champion, their "light" of pure, unadulterated strength.
She already knew the path ahead. For now, she would bide her time and gather her strength. A single, stubborn hope burned in her heart—the person she was searching for had to be in this same world, waiting on the other side of the conflict.