The village was at peace.
Children chased each other around the central fire pit, their tails flicking playfully behind them. The women were laughing near the water basin, scaling fish with swift, practiced hands. A few elders lay near the pond, talking about old days. It was an ordinary day.
Perfect.
Until he smelled it.
Garuda froze mid-step.
The scent was faint but wrong—like burnt stone and wet metal. Not from here. Not from any of them. His scaled brow twitched as he sniffed the air again, nostrils flaring. His tail stiffened behind him.
"Who goes there?!"
He barked, claws tightening around his spear as he turned toward the thicket.
Then, it emerged.
A creature—no, a thing—stepped out from the dense foliage, its limbs trembling. It stumbled forward, muttering in some odd, broken noise—garbled, like wind coughing through cracked reeds. Then the noise shifted. Slurred… then syllables. Then words. As if something was interfering.
They surrounded it immediately. Ropes snapped taut around its wrists, arms pulled behind its back. The creature fell to its knees without a fight.
Garuda crouched low in front of it, examining the strange being.
Pale, pinkish flesh. No scales. Soft features. No tail. Round eyes. Upright posture.
Everything about it screamed wrong.
And yet… familiar.
He remembered the tales.
The old village chief used to speak of beings from another world—"humans," they were called. Ancient legends. Ghosts of stories that belonged to another time. Although the village chef claims that he had seen two but He'd always thought it was nonsense, the kind elders used to get kids to sleep faster.
But now… here one was. Right in front of him.
When the creature—no, human—said it was one, Garuda scoffed. Until the chief stepped forward, peered closely, and nodded. "It is as I remember."
Garuda's stomach dropped.
The human's body was shaking. Its chest rose and fell too fast. And—
What was that? Was it… leaking?
Garuda stared.
Water. From its skin.
By the gods. It was producing liquid.
The children shrieked and clung to their parents.
'W-W-W-W-W-What is it doing? And WHY is it producing FUKING WATER from its skin. Mommy HELP, I'm scared.'
Even the elders stood, alarmed.
Garuda turned, barking orders.
"Get the children away!"
But the human didn't explode. Or cast a curse. Or melt into fire.
Instead, it calmed.
It just… sat there. Chest heaving. Quiet now.
'What now?'
Garuda's legs felt weak. He almost stepped back, but his pride rooted him in place. The entire village watched. He couldn't run—not now.
He was terrified.
Every instinct told him to flee, to vanish into the jungle and leave this nightmare behind. But if he did… if he fell back… the village would be vulnerable.
He couldn't allow that.
So he clenched his jaw and steadied his breath. He looked around and saw that everyone was was equally terrified. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. Like a warrior going towards his final battle. He asked questions about what it was and what it's purpose was.
The human, as it identified it self and the chef confirmed, spoke softly—too softly. Too calmly. It spoke of "belief," and "benefits," and gods only know what else. Its voice was calm in the way still water is right before it swallows you whole.
Garuda hated it.
Sorcery. That's what this was. It was casting some weird mental curse.
Water-from-skin sorcery was only the beginning.
He shot a glance at the chief, expecting alarm—maybe even outrage.
But the old lizard just chuckled.
"Relax,"
The chief said.
"He means no harm. But since your not convinced, test him. For now, put him in prison."
Garuda wanted to protest, but the words stuck. He nodded. For now.
He would figure it out. He'd test this thing.
And he had just the idea. A duel—simple, brutal. Let it fight one of his warriors. That would reveal its true nature.
When he explained it to the human, however, the damn thing tilted its head and immediately pointed out a flaw in the setup.
'…Daaamiiit!!!!'
Garuda cursed inwardly, his frills twitching with embarrassment.
'I totally didn't think of that.'
This thing was dangerous and smart.
A terrifying combination.
Still, Garuda kept a straight face. Couldn't show weakness.
"I was testing you."
The human just smiled.
Didn't say a word. Just smiled.
Garuda's blood ran cold.
He turned and left—walking stiffly. Almost jogging. His pride wanted him to stride with dignity, but his instincts screamed at him to get away.
All thus while, the thought that the human might be pathetically weak didn't even cross the Lizards mind. Truly dumb.
***
Two days later.
Garuda returned to the prison outpost, spear in hand, stomach uneasy.
He had spent the last two days crafting a foolproof trial for the human. No flaws this time.
But what he saw inside the cell froze his blood.
The human was chatting with the guards.
Both of them. Even the quiet one.
Chatterbox was a loudmouth, sure—but he never slacked off. And the quiet one? He hadn't spoken more than twelve words in a year. Now he was Talking. Talking with the human.
Garuda nearly dropped his spear.
What sorcery is this?
Did it enchant them? Hypnotize them? Whisper secrets of the forest into their ears?!
He stormed into the cell, trying to look menacing. It didn't work.
The human glanced at him with those calm, eerie eyes. Not flinching. Not nervous. Just… watching.
He didn't show it, but Garuda was already rattled.
Still, he delivered his plan.
They would use the ancient trial. The jungle's rite—the path of the Forest God itself. If this human was truly to be trusted, then let the gods decide.
He turned and left with the proud dignity of a war general.
At least, that's what he hoped it looked like.
***
But fate wasn't done with him yet.
As he approached the village outskirts, his heart stopped.
Smoke. Screams. The sound of wooden spear clashing.
A rival Syltharion tribe was attacking.
Garuda pushed all thoughts of the human from his mind and sprinted forward.
The nightmare had only just begun.
***
A scream echoed through the cave.
It was distant, muffled by thick stone and humid air, but clear enough to freeze the two guards standing outside the wooden prison.
They looked toward the sound, then at each other, then back at Norian.
Another scream followed. Louder this time. Sharp. Urgent.
The two lizardmen shifted, their clawed feet scraping against the moss-covered cave floor.
Norian raised an eyebrow.
"So?"
He said calmly, hands still bound behind his back.
"Is guarding a prisoner more important... or saving your village?"
That did it.
Their hesitation shattered.
One nodded, the other growled something under his breath, and within seconds, both sprinted down the winding cavern path toward the distant sounds of battle. Their figures quickly disappeared into the twisting dark of the underground passage.
Silence returned.
Norian exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the now-empty guard post carved into the wall of the massive cave system.
"…Finally."
He stepped forward and tested the bars. The so-called prison was made of interwoven wooden sticks and thick vines, tied tightly and anchored into the stone floor. It looked primitive—but held strong.
He pressed both hands against the central bar and shoved.
Nothing.
"Tch. Stronger than I thought,"
Norian muttered. "Just like that lizard said…"
He backed away, his movements calm, almost lazy. Then, he reached into his right pocket and retrieved a small, sharpened shard of stone—a spear tip he had crafted days ago for emergency use.
Rough. Jagged. But deadly enough.
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
'They really didn't search me…'
'These lizards are truly stupid.'
'Don't blame me. Blame your own idiocy. Hehe...'
He crouched low and twisted his wrists, sliding the sharp edge between the vines that bound them. The stone caught the tension point of the knots perfectly.
Scritch. Scritch.
It didn't take long. A few cuts later, the first vine snapped apart. Then another. And another.
Within a minute, his hands were free.
He stretched, pocketed the stone, then stepped back up to the bars. One hand pressed against the vines. The other slid between a weak gap and pulled.
Creak.
Snap.
The bars gave just enough for him to squeeze through.
He was out.
The prison sat in a hollow carved from the cave wall, dimly lit by glowing moss clinging to the ceiling. The path to the surface—or at least, the main cavern where the lizard village rested—was narrow, twisting, and long.
But he could already hear the chaos spilling from it. Screams. Clashing wood. Shouted orders in a guttural language he didn't understand.
He started running.
His breath echoed in the tunnels, bouncing off stone and root. The air was humid, heavy with the scent of moss, smoke, and something sharper—fear.
'What the hell am I gonna do?'
His thoughts churned faster than his feet.
'I can't take down an entire tribe of scaled warriors.I'm not even strong. Heck, even a single lizardmen is probably enough to defeat me.'
But still… he kept running.
Because if he didn't… who would?
Because even if he couldn't win…
'I could try.'
***
As the path opened, light burst through the end of the tunnel—faint and flickering. He slowed and crept behind a large jagged stone jutting out from the cave wall. The cavern beyond was vast—larger than he expected, easily the size of a stadium. He couldn't get the whole view previously because of the situation.
It was burning.
The Syltharion village was under attack. Fires flickered along the stone structures built into the rock. Lizard warriors clashed with invaders—another tribe, larger and meaner, their scales dull and cracked like battle-worn armor.
Norian ducked low behind the stone, peeking out.
The defenders were struggling. The guards he recognized—the same ones who had once stared at him like he was a monster—were now covered in bruises. Tired. Desperate.
But not dead.
Not yet.
'I made it. I'm here.'
He crouched lower.
'Now what? What can I even do?'
His hands trembled. Sweat pooled in the back of his neck. His knees felt hollow, like they might give out at any second.
'They're warriors. I'm not. They have weapons. I have a rock shard and a vague idea.'
He pressed a hand against the stone, grounding himself.
'Calm down. Don't panic. Think. If my power really works the way I think it does…'
Then this might actually be an opportunity.
They believed he was dangerous.
They feared him.
Even Garuda had looked at him with eyes full of caution, suspicion… dread.
That belief was still alive. Maybe stronger now.
'I don't need to be strong. I just need them to believe I am.'
He sucked in a long breath. The smoke from the battlefield stung his lungs.
He stood up straight, eyes sharp, back straight, and stepped out from behind the rock.
His footsteps were slow, deliberate. Measured.
Toward the battle.
Toward the fire.
Toward the belief.
'Let's do this.'
-To Be Continued