The wind howled through the desolate plains of Alathar, carrying with it the smell of something ancient—something older than the very land beneath my feet. The battle was over, but the weight of the creature's presence lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating.
I stood alongside the giant, watching as the last remnants of the beast's body disintegrated into dust, blown away by the unforgiving winds. The giant made no move to celebrate or to mourn. They simply watched the ashes swirl into the horizon, eyes narrowed and deep in thought.
"What now?" I asked, wiping my brow and trying to catch my breath.
The giant didn't answer immediately. They stared out over the empty plains, their golden eyes glowing faintly in the fading light. For a moment, I thought they hadn't heard me, but then they turned their gaze back to me.
"There's more to this land than you can imagine," the giant said, their voice soft but carrying an underlying weight. "And more to you, Arthur, than you understand."
I bristled at the mention of my name, but I said nothing. Instead, I let the silence stretch between us, the cold wind biting at my skin. The weight of this strange world pressed on me—its unfamiliarity, its dangers, its ancient powers. This wasn't the world I'd fought in for so long. This was a new battlefield, and I wasn't sure I even knew the rules.
The giant stepped forward, their massive form moving with a grace that belied their size. The golden light around them flickered again, and for a brief moment, I saw something flicker in their eyes—something not entirely human. Not entirely... alive.
"We should move," the giant said, breaking the silence. "The night will bring worse things than that creature."
I frowned. "Worse than that thing?"
The giant nodded. "That was a Wyrix, a lesser guardian of this land. But the true threats of Alathar—those you need to fear—are far older and more powerful. That was only the beginning."
I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. "And what do you mean by 'worse'? What are we dealing with here?"
The giant didn't reply directly. Instead, they began walking, their steps sure and steady as they moved toward the distant hills. The way they carried themselves, so confident and unshaken, only served to increase the knot in my stomach.
I had faced demons, armies, and monsters. I had led battles and fought through the ashes of war. But something about Alathar felt different. The air was thick with a strange energy—something alive, something... waiting.
As we walked, the giant finally spoke again, their voice low, almost like a whisper.
"Alathar is a land that was once home to powerful, ancient beings. Creatures that have long since faded into myth—some still slumber, some have died, and some… are still very much alive. They are not like your demons. They are forces that shape this world, that pull the strings of reality itself. And they are aware of your arrival."
I furrowed my brow. "My arrival?"
The giant glanced over at me, their expression unreadable. "Yes. Your presence here is no accident, Arthur. This world has chosen you. And whether you like it or not, you will play a role in the events to come."
I couldn't hide the skepticism in my voice. "Chosen? By who? For what?"
The giant's eyes darkened. "The powers of Alathar. They see your past, your strength, your potential. But they also see the wounds you carry. And they will test you, just as they've tested every being who has set foot here before."
I clenched my fists. "I've been tested before. I survived the end of my world. I don't need to be tested again."
The giant stopped walking and turned toward me. For the first time, I saw a flicker of emotion in their gaze—something like pity, or perhaps understanding. But it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
"You misunderstand, Arthur. The tests of Alathar are not about survival. They are about understanding. About... change."
"Change?" I echoed, disbelief creeping into my voice. "What do you mean? I've seen enough change in my life to last a thousand lifetimes. I'm done with it."
The giant's gaze softened, but only for a moment. "You may think that, but the land doesn't care what you think. This world will change you whether you like it or not. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you will be ready for what is to come."
I wanted to argue. To scream at them. But instead, I stood there, staring at the giant as they turned away, their words settling heavily in the air. I didn't know what to make of their cryptic statements, but one thing was clear—I had no choice but to follow them. I was already here, and whatever strange purpose this world had for me, I would have to face it head-on.
As the sun sank below the horizon, the sky shifted from orange to deep purple, casting a cold, eerie light across the plains. The air grew heavy, and I could feel it—the pressure, the weight of something watching, something waiting.
The giant seemed unaffected by the oppressive atmosphere. They marched forward, their steps echoing through the silence.
"Keep up," they said without looking back. "The road ahead is long. And the true dangers of this world lie beyond the horizon."
I didn't ask what they meant. I didn't have to. The way they moved, the way they spoke, told me all I needed to know.
This world was not kind. And I was about to learn the hard way that survival here wasn't just about