The Forgotten Heroes
A ferocious roar echoed through the air, shaking the very ground beneath us. In the sky, a dragon soared, its wings spread wide as it ascended to the heavens.
The undead no longer had their eyes on us. It was as if we were invisible, their attention entirely consumed by the terrifying presence above.
Finally regaining my senses, I quickly turned to my clan members. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening, but this is our chance to escape. Let’s put as much distance between us and this place as possible.”
With that, I grabbed Ansul’s hand, ready to flee. But I felt a slight resistance. I tugged a few more times, but the resistance only grew stronger.
“Ansul?”
“Uh-uh…”
“Ansul!”
“Uh-uh…”
Ansul didn’t say a word. Instead, she pulled her hand back, silently refusing to move. Tears still streamed down her face, but her wide eyes were fixed on the sky, showing no intention of leaving.
“You…”
I wanted to say something, but the words caught in my throat. Anger was useless now. I forced myself to stay calm and surveyed our surroundings.
A dragon had suddenly appeared at the fortress, and the undead were fighting it.
‘Could it be…’
A chilling thought crossed my mind. Ansul had allowed the undead’s summoning ritual to proceed earlier. I hadn’t understood why at the time, but now it made sense. If the undead hadn’t been summoned, we would have been left to face the dragon alone.
‘Did she foresee all of this?’
Just then, the misty sky changed dramatically, turning a deep red as if bathed in twilight. The dragon, dodging arrows and spells, began to slow down.
It spread its wings wide, glanced down, and let out a thunderous roar, its eyes glowing red.
In that moment, it felt as if the sky itself was opening. But it wasn’t the sky; the clouds parted, and fiery raindrops began to fall like lightning.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The fiery rain stretched into long streaks as it descended, transforming into streams of fire that struck the undead below with pinpoint accuracy.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions erupted all around, deafening in their intensity. It was as if the sky itself was raining destruction. The bombardment started on the right, cutting diagonally across, even tearing through buildings.
The central plaza was spared direct hits, but the aftermath was unavoidable. Flames erupted, and debris flew everywhere. The roar of the explosions gradually faded, replaced by the crackling of flames consuming the fortress.
Crackle! Crackle!
The fortress was ablaze.
“Hah!”
I heard someone collapse to the ground, their legs giving out under the strain. The other clan members stood silently, but I imagined they felt the same.
This wasn’t a battle or an exploration. It was a war.
“Everyone…”
I paused, looking at Ansul, then turned back to the clan members. “Ansul and I will stay here. The rest of you, please, get to safety.”
Even in the urgency of the moment, the clan members stared at me in disbelief.
It was a decision I had made after careful consideration.
There were two choices: stay or flee.
Fleeing was the safer option. Even if Ansul resisted, we could force her to leave.
But Ansul’s abilities, which I had just confirmed, were not to be taken lightly. There had to be a reason she wanted to stay.
So, I decided to trust Ansul’s choice.
However…
“No.”
“No way!”
“I refuse!”
“Not happening.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I won’t!”
The unanimous response from the clan members defied my expectations.
I tried to maintain a stern expression, as if to question their defiance of the clan leader’s orders. But I couldn’t hold it for long. Their incredulous looks pierced through me.
My lips felt dry. I was grateful for their loyalty and admired their resolve.
But the clan members here were elite mercenaries. Losing them here would be a waste.
So, I planned to evacuate most of the clan while the dragon and undead fought, and then decide our next move.
Judging by the current battle, it seemed unlikely the undead would win. The dragon was formidable, but at least it was a single entity. We wouldn’t be surrounded.
I decided to stick to my plan. For now, I would stay with Ansul and observe the situation. If the worst came to pass, I could at least ensure Ansul’s escape.
“It’s okay.”
A small voice reached my ears.
Ansul wiped her tear-streaked face and pointed in a direction. I followed her gaze to see the undead aiming at the sky. Thousands of them, each with a weapon drawn, were looking upward.
An unfamiliar chant rang out, and swords, spears, arrows, and spells shot into the sky. The sheer volume was overwhelming, but I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The attacks rose into the air, not targeting the dragon but simply soaring upward. It was as if they were just thrown into the sky. The dragon glanced down and then flew higher with powerful wingbeats.
The attack made no sense. What were they doing?
Another grand chant echoed, and a purple dome appeared in the sky, twinkling like a starry night. It emitted a loud, mechanical hum.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The various attacks that had risen into the sky began to converge on the center of the dome, like water swirling down a drain. As they passed through, they condensed into a single point.
The point, charged with immense power, burst through the dome and shot forward.
It was a spectacle. The concentrated force, leaving a long tail, streaked like a meteor. It chased the dragon and struck its body with explosive force.
Moments later, the explosion enveloped the dragon entirely.
Boom!
The dragon roared in agony.
And at that moment…
“───. ───. ───.”
A soft murmur accompanied Ansul as she raised her staff high. I turned to look at her.
’…….’
But seeing her, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Because…
“───. ───. ───.”
With her eyes closed, quietly chanting, Ansul looked more sacred and divine than ever.
It felt like witnessing a savior.
It was sorrowful. Just sorrowful.
From the moment she set foot in the ruins, Ansul was overwhelmed by emotions from all directions.
The grief etched into the ground.
The sadness soaked into the buildings.
The sorrow held by mere bone fragments.
No, the melancholy engraved throughout the fortress.
All of it cried out to Ansul.
We are wronged!
So much anger and resentment!
Feeling their pitiful plight, Ansul wondered.
What happened here? What could have left such a deep-seated grudge?
The answer was on the walls.
While everyone else deciphered the inscriptions, Ansul saw something different.
A long, drawn-out war.
And the final battle that could have ended it.
This wasn’t a war that ended in a year or two. It spanned decades.
Decades. The time it takes for a child to be born, grow into adulthood, and reach middle age.
A child growing up amidst the horrors of war was destined to lose everything.
A newborn lost their father at birth. An unexpected attack took their mother. The war claimed their siblings.
It was a time like that. A time of such horror.
Countless miserable and horrific moments passed.
And finally, the ultimate battle that would put an end to this era was upon them.
Among the humans, a select few volunteered to enter the mountain range, knowing full well that most of them would not return. They understood the grim reality: entering the mountains meant likely death, with little chance of coming back alive.
Yet they chose to go, not just because it was unavoidable, but because it was what everyone desired.
To end this tiresome era once and for all. Even if they perished, they were determined not to pass this age onto their brothers, sisters, children, and descendants.
They vowed to reclaim the peaceful times of the past.
Under this singular conviction, the humans—no, the ‘heroes’—entered the mountains.
And so began the final battle.
The dragon’s assault was fierce, and the humans allied with it were cunning. As expected, they suffered heavy losses, but in the end, the dragon could not break the humans’ resolve.
The war concluded with pools of blood soaking the ground, but the victory that emerged belonged to the humans.
However, the end of the war did not signify the end of everything.
The dragon of the apocalypse, Magna Carta, cast two curses.
One was a complete curse, while the other was more of a prophetic curse. The former enveloped not only the humans but the entire mountain range.
The latter, the prophetic curse, was bestowed solely upon the great hero who led the others.
And as a result, the great hero accepted the curse.
The humans who survived the great war tasted despair before they could even savor their victory. After the long war, all that awaited them was a hollow death.
Even in death, they were not free. They should have ascended to the places they believed in, but due to Magna Carta’s curse and the great hero who accepted it, they could not leave the mountains.
The curse that bound them in life continued to affect them in death, turning them into wandering spirits of the mountains.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The earth-shattering noise jolted Ansol back to reality.
In the air, the dragon, though staggering, flapped its wings once more, and the skeletal spirits stood resolute, as if they knew this attack wouldn’t be the end. They calmly prepared for the next assault.
And so, Ansol felt even more sorrow.
These were the ones who fought with everything they had in life.
The ones betrayed by the commander they trusted without question.
The ones who wandered the mountains in solitude for thousands of years.
The ones who were denied their rightful peace and forgotten by the world.
And now, summoned back to reality, the dragon of the apocalypse had also been resurrected.
Without hesitation, they chose to fight once more.
Though no one would recognize their sacrifice, though they had harbored resentment for millennia without ascending, though they were betrayed at the brink of victory.
The conviction they held when they first entered the mountains still burned within them.
A single belief: to reclaim the peaceful times of the past.
Fearing the dragon’s return to the world, they drew their swords once more, ready to face eternal oblivion.
As Magna Carta gathered itself and the human heroes prepared for another attack, Ansol slowly raised his staff. A gentle light flowed from the staff, enveloping Ansol in a soft glow.
Ansol quietly spoke.
“A miracle…!”
A brilliant light erupted from Ansol’s body, shooting into the sky and forming a circular halo. Then, amidst the dazzling radiance, an angel with white wings appeared at the center of the circle.
Ansol called out.
“Angel, oh angel….”
The angel opened its eyes serenely, as if inviting Ansol to make a wish.
“Please….”
The battle had momentarily paused.
Both the dragon and the spirits were taken aback by the sudden appearance of the colossal angel. Ansol’s desperate invocation of a miracle exuded an overwhelming presence that encompassed the entire fortress.
With a voice full of urgency, Ansol pleaded.
“Save those who are buried here…!”
A heartfelt cry. The angel widened its eyes momentarily, then tilted its head in understanding.
But upon seeing the gathered spirits, a compassionate smile graced its lips.
After a brief moment, as if comprehending everything, the angel nodded calmly. Ansol’s previously sorrowful face brightened with hope.
The whispered word echoed through the air.
The angel turned towards the spirits, gently spreading its arms. With a warm, motherly smile, the angel’s entire being began to shine brightly.
A brilliant light descended from the heavens, covering the land.
On the ground that had been shrouded in darkness for millennia, the miracle of warm light was finally realized.
---------------------------= Author’s Note ---------------------------=
Today’s story from Ansol’s perspective pairs wonderfully with this BGM: http://bgmstore.net/view/0O1HB. It’s the song I listened to while writing. :D