In an arid land near the coast, where there was little vegetation or animals, far south of the continent, there stood a man gazing at the se
In an arid land near the coast, where there was little vegetation or animals, far south of the continent, there stood a man gazing at the seashore.
The waves seemed to swallow everything, the fresh air beating against his face, and the hot summer sun made this young man ponder his next steps.
Above average height, at 6'5" and a large build, he stood out wherever he went, wearing simple cotton clothing, seemingly humble if not for his vibrant purple eyes and hair, and his hard-to-forget facial features.
This was none other than the King of the Dragovar clan, Eron Dragovar.
Dragovar, one of the many clans of the human race, possessing a strong physique and purple hair, were once a cornerstone of the human race, but today they are on the verge of becoming the last of their lineage on this continent dominated by the law of the jungle.
"This view, I can't stand it anymore. If there are gods in this world, let them listen to me now."
After these words, it seemed the sea raged, the winds began to gust, and the sky darkened.
"I'd rather defy the impossible, kill my enemies and friends, be hated than loved, but never, ever, be extinct in this world of hell."
Looking as if he were about to devour everything, he turned to the man kneeling and bleeding beside him. Judging by his clothing and features, he seemed to be from another tribe.
"Rest assured, your parents, brothers, and children will find you soon."
The man began to tremble, but soon he began to laugh madly.
"HAHA, DO YOU THINK THAT WITH A DESTROYED CLAN LIKE YOURS, YOU'LL DO ANYTHING?"
"Everything you've done so far will be repaid. We've protected humanity with all the clans for thousands of years, but from my reign onward, there will be only one human clan in this world."
Saying this, he took his one-handed sword, old and brittle, and cut off the head, without another word.
Beside him were ten men from his clan, all strong and with purple hair, but none dared look him in the eye. At that moment, he couldn't tell if it was out of respect or fear.
"Give this bastard to the Nurks, they'll have enough food for today."
Nurks were a rare species of nocturnal feline. When they arrived in this region, Eron tamed them and his clan and made them his mounts.
The clan's domain was a coastal strip far to the south, with few raw materials. They arrived here less than a month ago. Once a glorious clan, they were gradually decimated. Now they are down to less than two hundred people, the royal family, with only Eron remaining, carrying a huge burden.
After about thirty minutes, they arrived at the clan's village. When the villagers saw them, they rejoiced and shouted, for they were almost half the clan's forces, along with their prince. The villagers were large, with purple eyes and hair. It was clear they were all related by blood. There were only two towers on either side of the main gate. The walls surrounding the village were only four meters high, all made of wood, reflecting the poverty of the place.
There were few houses, and the streets were made of clay. One large house stood out from the rest; it was the prince's residence, where he held meetings and lived. A small port on the coast had two fishing boats and two more under construction. Even with a hint of humility in the air, Eron's firm leadership was showing results.
Arriving at the courtyard in front of his residence, he looked at his right-hand man, Kael Dragovar, one of the strongest in the clan, second only to Eron. With his shaved hair and tanned skin, he was a model soldier.
"Call all the men. I want to speak with them in five minutes."
He spoke without even looking to the side.
"Yes, sir."
After a while, all the men in the village were there, sweaty and disheveled, eager to arrive late, demonstrating Eron's authority, or their fear.
"What I will say will be brief, my brothers. As you can all see, our clan has been reduced to less than one percent. Right now we need new flesh, that is, reproduction."
Looking at each of the hundred men in the square as he spoke,
"Our male gene is more powerful than that of the other clans when it comes to lineage succession. The women of our blood will not be enough for rapid progression."
"We will go to enemy villages in a week and plunder and steal their women. We will do what they did to us and our ancestors."
The pressure began to mount, everyone there made a vow in their hearts about the past humiliation. And the elders venerated the attitude of this prince, even young but with a heart as cold as a desert at dusk.
With that said, everyone returned to their duties, while others went home, wanting to have more children with their wives.
Upon arriving at his residence, Eron was graced with his two wives, already with full bellies, showing signs of soon having children. With a rare smile on his face, he treated them well. One was named Ariel and the other Alice. They both had purple hair and eyes, wide hips, and full breasts, showing off the Dragovar gene.
Looking out his bedroom window while his wives slept, he thought about his clan's next steps to prepare for the invasions.
The next morning, he met with Kael and the other men.
"Let's arrange the crops in front of the walls and assign the elders to oversee them in the coming periods."
Their diet was based on fishing and hunting local animals. If they wanted to grow their population, they would have to plant crops.
They then spent the day planting crops. With bodies built for war, and with superhuman strength, they managed to plant four fields. This lineage was no small foundation for the clans and a headache for the other races.
By late afternoon, the seeds were sown, and the work was done. Even so, Eron didn't stop. He knew he was no better than any ruler, or a genius. Of the nearly one hundred men in the clan, he selected sixty and gathered them for military training.
"Everyone knows that the law that governs this world is that of the jungle, and without the necessary strength, we will be at the mercy of others, once again..."
Energy existed in every living being in the world, and it was divided between magic and warrior energy, and each race had its own characteristics that favored these energies. Humans could use both magic and warrior energy, but few clans were skilled at either; some were skilled at magic, others at warrior energy.
The Dragovar clan had no magicians! They couldn't have magic in their bodies, even if they tried their hardest, the result was the same. However, their ability to harness warrior energy in their bodies was enormous, compared to the races at the top of the continent.
But were the humans very envious of this clan? Because only they were blessed by the gods?
Greed was one of the many reasons that led the other clans to join forces with other races and destroy the Dragovar, believing they had been destroyed by then.
Energy is divided into four levels: terrestrial, stellar, lunar, and solar. Each has its own beginner, intermediate, and advanced levels. The Dragovar currently only have two energy users: Eron, who is at intermediate terrestrial, and Kael, who is at beginner terrestrial. The other strongest warriors in the clan sacrificed themselves to escape without being tracked.
"I'll give each of you a copy of Warrior Energy, a low-level Dragowar, so you can learn the energy right before we go into battle. We can't be tracked; we'll have to be quick and strong."
"These parts of the land are the interior of the clan kingdoms, and they didn't pay much attention to us, thinking we were simple mountain bandits."
With that, they began training, with many fainting from the intensity by late evening. Over the next few days, Eron renovated the city, building new fishing boats, paving the streets with gravel, doing his best to prevent anyone from mistaking it for a tribal village.
With two days to go, Eron headed to the only blacksmith in town, an elderly but energetic man named Avar.
Arriving near the forge, Avar greeted him awkwardly.
"My King, what brings you to this humble gentleman?"
"I need you to make Nurk armor for me and my men."
Nurk had a tough, black hide, perfect for making light armor.
"Yes, sir, how much do you need?"
"100 sets. I'll leave the rest with the men who stayed here."
With that, he turned and left, having his men throw Nurk's hides to the blacksmith.
Looking back, he said,
"By the way, I need them ready in two days. Your money will be given to you as soon as it's done... and I expect to have to give money to you instead of your family, okay?"
Sweat pouring down his body, the blacksmith agreed, not even thinking about how he was going to do all this.
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