"U-UN-UNCLE!" Zego screamed in panic, his voice breaking amid uncontrollable sobs. Tears streamed down his face, soaking his frightened expression. He saw Zeos lying motionless on the sand. Ragged flesh hung from his chest like torn sailcloth, oozing a dark, thick sludge that smelled of rotting seaweed. Every breath Zeos took rattled like pebbles in a tin. The serene silence of the beach seemed to mock Zego's despair. In the distance, Zego saw the faint silhouettes of some people. Without a second thought, he rose and yelled with all his might. "Someone! Help us! I beg anyone, please help us!" Zego fell to his knees, pleading desperately with the ocean and the sky.
The people slowly approached. It was a small group consisting of an old man, an old woman, and a few younger people. The old man, with white hair and a thick beard, stared at Zeos with wide, surprised eyes. "Good heavens, what happened to this man?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
"We need help immediately! My uncle is in critical condition!" Zego rushed out, pointing at the terrible injuries.
"Ah, alright, I understand," the old man said calmly, trying to reassure Zego. Without hesitation, they hoisted Zeos onto their shoulders. Not far from the spot, a small hut stood under the shade of a coconut tree. They carried Zeos inside and laid him on a woven mat. The old man immediately removed Zeos's clothes to examine his wounds. "Argh, these wounds are terrible," he muttered, shaking his head. "It looks like he was torn apart by a monster."
Inside the small hut, his wife, a wise-looking old woman named Anna, hurried over. Anna had once been a nurse at the Vatican. Seeing Zeos's condition, her nursing instincts immediately kicked in. "All of you, get out," Anna ordered firmly. "You'll only distract me." As she began cleaning Zeos's wounds with a cloth, she whistled a strange, ancient melody. The others promptly exited, leaving Anna alone inside the hut.
Outside, Zego sat restlessly on the sand. The old man who had helped them approached him and sat beside him. "Son, what's your name?" he asked in a gentle voice.
"My name is Zego," Zego replied softly.
"Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Gran," the old man said. "I have lived on this shoreline for a very long time. This is the first time I've had visitors from the outside."
Zego's eyes remained fixed on the hut's door, filled with worry. Gran, seeing the anxiety on Zego's face, tried to comfort him. "HAHAHA! Don't you worry, son! That old lady is an expert in her field! Back in the day, at the Vatican, she was one of the best!"
"Why would you want to live on a remote shore like this? Isn't it very dangerous?" Zego asked curiously.
Gran smiled. "Dangerous? Hmm... It seems you don't know anything about the western territory. I'm a little surprised you were able to get here without a ship. That means the person who brought you here isn't an ordinary person, is he?"
"Ah, he's my uncle," Zego replied, his gaze dimming again. "I've been with him since I was a child. I don't know where my mother and father are."
Hearing that, Gran felt a pang of sadness. "Don't you worry, son! Your uncle is strong! He's sure to make it!" Gran said, trying to lift Zego's spirits.
"He's right, Uncle is strong!" Zego muttered to himself, trying to believe it.
"Son, would you like to train with me?" Gran suddenly asked.
Zego paused, thinking of his uncle's suffering. His fists clenched. Cowering wouldn't save Uncle Zeos. If Gran's training could forge him into a weapon... he'd let the old man hammer him raw. "Yes, I would," he answered with a firm voice.
"Train? With you?" Zego raised an eyebrow.
"Son, I may be old, but I was once a Paladin," Gran stated proudly.
They found a spot under a coconut tree to begin their training. The beach wind blew coolly, and the sound of the waves became their background music. "Son! Have you ever held a sword before?" Gran asked.
"Ah, I've never held a weapon," Zego replied.
"So, what would your weapon be if you were in a fight?" Gran asked, testing Zego's spirit.
"My weapon is my fists!" Zego answered loudly, a fierce determination in his eyes.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! SON, THAT SPIRIT IS EXCELLENT!" Gran laughed heartily, pleased with Zego's courage. He took a fighting stance and lunged with his wooden sword. Zego, slightly surprised, couldn't react. Gran stopped his attack just an inch from his nose. "SON! WHY DIDN'T YOU DODGE?! HOW CAN YOU BE READY FOR A FIGHT IF YOU'RE LIKE THIS?!" Gran said, his tone turning harsh.
Sand gritted between Zego's toes as Gran's wooden sword whistled past his ear. Salt stung his eyes—was it sweat or seawater?—as he dodged, the crash of waves counting his failures: one... two... ten...
"Ah, I'm sorry," Zego said, his spirit a little dampened.
Gran sighed, then smiled. "Son! Let's train until you can put up a fight, and call me Master." Gran tossed a coconut at Zego. "Again! And this time," he grinned, "imagine it's that monster's eyeball."
Zego caught the coconut. His knuckles whitened. In his mind, the coconut pulsed with the monster's hellish glow.
"A-ah, alright... MASTER!" Zego said, bowing deeply as a sign of respect.
"HAHAHA GOOD! IT's BEEN SO LONG, THIS FEELS LIKE NOSTALGIA! SON! GET READY!" Gran exclaimed, his enthusiasm returning.
"Come on, Master!" Zego responded, taking a ready stance.
Night fell, but their training continued. The sweat pouring from both of their bodies seemed to reflect their burning spirit. Gran patiently trained Zego, hoping that through this training, Zego could become much stronger. He taught him the basics of defense, movement, and how to use his fists effectively.
"Son, I think that's enough for now. We'll eat," he said.
"Alright, Master," Zego replied, panting from exhaustion but his eyes still bright with spirit.
Gran went fishing, while Zego gazed out at the dark ocean. Before long, Gran returned with a decent catch of fish and immediately roasted them over a bonfire. "Son, how's the fish? Is it tasty?" Gran asked.
"Yes, it's delicious," Zego replied, smiling.
"Hahahaha, the fish from the west are great!" Gran cheered.
"Master, why is the western territory so deserted? It seems like there's no life at all," Zego asked, his curiosity returning.
"You haven't seen Eternian's golden spires, boy? Even from the sea, they blind you like captured suns," Gran replied, his eyes gazing into the distance.
"Spires? Does the Emperor live there?" Zego asked.
"Aye. Arthur Lionhand," Gran replied. "His family's swords built that city... and the Vatican's paladins guard it."
"The Vatican? What's that?" Zego asked.
"The Vatican is the center of the most prominent organization on the entire continent. It's located in the capital city of Eternian. They have a lot of powerful and formidable sacred soldiers," Gran explained. "They are called Paladins."
"Was Master a Paladin too?" Zego asked innocently.
"Ah, that was a long time ago. Not anymore," Gran replied, his eyes gazing into the distance.
"You two should come inside now!" Anna shouted from inside the hut. Anna's hands were gloved in blood up to her elbows. "He's alive... but something's festering in his wounds. Like sea-worms made of shadow."
[VOTE for NEXT CHAPTER!]
What should Anna do about the shadow worms?
A. Use forbidden Vatican magic
B. Ask Zego to "burn" them with his stellar eyes
→ Most voted choice will shape the story! 💫
POWER STONES = EXTRA CHAPTER TOMORROW! 🔥