“Werepeople hate humans for using Forbidden Magic on them and for turning them into hybrids. You stay here while I go take a look.” Morok said.
He didn’t like shapeshifting back into his Tyrant form because just like a Balor, his eyes would naturally absorb part of the respective elemental energy they were attuned with. Morok feared that the voices might return or that he might Awaken.
‘According to Master Ajatar, my mana core is blue. Awakening without external help could make me blow up just like it would happen to Quylla if Mogar doesn’t give me a hand.’ He thought.
Luckily for him, without the eye technique that his father had taught him, Morok didn’t experience any discomfort. He leisurely strolled toward the village with the best next thing to a smile that his mouth filled with the razor-sharp teeth could make.
“Hi guys, I’m new here. I’m looking for my friend. He’s an annoying man that can be this tall unless he looks like a Rezar and then he’s this tall. Have you seen him around?” Morok used his milky-white hand to gesture both Nalrond’s heights.
“Maybe.” The man in front of him shapeshifted into a grey-skinned giant and emitted a low guttural sound that drew the attention of the entire village.
The man was now almost 2.5 (8′) tall, with small black eyes barely visible behind the three horns on his muzzle and the two upward tusks coming from his mouth. His hands and feet only had four fingers and he was so bulky that, from a distance, the girls believed that he had turned into a rock.
His Soul Projection as a man resembled an angry Dewan, but after he had shapeshifted, it now looked like an even angrier man.
“I’ve never seen you or even heard about you, stranger. On top of that, Emperor Beasts usually don’t wear fancy clothes like yours. How can I be sure that you aren’t just a shapeshifted human looking for his runaway prisoner?”
“No duh you’ve never seen me before. I told you I’m new.” Morok’s four eyes looked at the Dewan with ill-concealed contempt.
“As for me being human what about this? Or this?” First, the Tyrant conjured a flaming fireball the size of a hot-air balloon and then he fired elemental beams from his eyes that opened four small craters in the ground.
“Awakened can use true magic, but the trick with the eyes is the real deal. I could feel the elemental energy coming from him rather than just being manipulated with a spell.” A man in his late seventies said.
If not for the white of his hair and the deep wrinkles on his face, Morok would have a hard time guessing his age. The man had clear blue eyes and deep bronze skin due to the constant exposure to the sun.
Despite his slightly slouched back, the elder still had wide shoulders and arms thicker than the branch of an old tree.
Hybrids didn’t live as briefly as humans nor as long as Emperor Beasts. Their average lifespan amounted to 150 years, but they aged well and due to their beast half, Werepeople would retain most of their muscle mass.
The village elder had such a keen mana perception that he managed to gauge Morok’s prowess simply by looking at his spell. Among the many villagers, he was the only one lacking a Soul Projection.
“Yet there’s no way to know if our Rezar brother brought you inside the Fringe willingly or if you forced him. Even Beasts covet our secrets so we cannot afford to trust a stranger. You’ll be our prisoner until our brother recovers.” The elder said.
“What do you mean, until he recovers? Nalrond was fine until a few minutes ago. What did you do to him?” Morok brought his hands to the hilts of his weapons, weaving his best spells while the Dewan slowly surrounded him and prepared their own.
“He arrived here flying and then he collapsed for no reason. We’ve tried to heal him, but the fever that plagues his mind resists the skill of our best healers. Are you saying that the Rezar’s condition is not your fault? That you didn’t work him like a slave?”
The elder looked Morok in the eyes, allowing the Tyrant to notice the mana glowing behind his pupils.
‘The bastard is preparing something big. Nalrond chose the worst possible time for a power nap. There’s no way I let them take me prisoner.’ Morok thought.
“It’s not my fault, but yours.” He pointed at the still visible scorched ruins of the houses that the Dewan had failed to rebuild.
“We came here to see Nalrond’s village after the Horseman of Dawn burned it to the ground. My friend must have mistaken you for his kin and is probably having a stroke at the idea that all his quest for revenge was for nothing.”
His words made the Dewan open their eyes wide in surprise while they finally understood what had happened and why the Rezar had collapsed as soon as he had reached the village outskirts.
“Elder Bahn, is it really possible that we have occupied the village of the fabled Rezar people? The Lightkeepers?” The Dewan who had “welcomed” Morok asked.
“It’s possible.” The elder nodded.
“It would explain why our Fringe suddenly expanded and why there were only ruins but no corpses. The ashes of our brothers fertilize our fields, filling our harvest with death. It seems we have founded our village on cursed grounds.”
“Also, I don’t need anyone’s help to get inside a Fringe. I can do it on my own.” No one believed Morok’s claim.
At least until Bahn asked him several questions about how he had come into contact with Mogar’s will. The Tyrant replied in such detail that everyone failed to complete their spells as their jaws hit the ground in amazement.
“It seems we misjudged you, Tyrant brother. Someone who doesn’t even emit a Soul Projection must be as powerful as he is wise. You’ll be our honored guest until our Rezar brother doesn’t wake up.
“Tell me, how many Werepeople Tyrants there are in your village?” The elder asked.
Morok understood that the Dewan had relaxed not because they trusted him so much as because they had mistaken him for one of their own.
“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t trust your mood swings. Tell Nalrond to call me as soon as he wakes up.” The Tyrant suddenly opened a Warp Steps and disappeared before any of the Dewan could move a single muscle.
Morok explained the situation to the girls who didn’t like it one bit.
“Dammit, we’re in trouble.” Quylla said. “This tribe of Werepeople seems to hate Emperor Beasts as much as they hate humans. There are too many of them and just three of us.
“Our best line of action is to wait for Nalrond to wake up and vouch for us. If they treated even an Emperor Beast with such contempt, there’s no telling what they might do to humans.”
***
City of Reghia, Jiera continent.
Between the late start due to Solus’s dream about her past and sightseeing the city while going to the human district, Lith’s group didn’t have much time left before dinner.
