The Ugdual Dynasty held four braves counted, three honoured, one forsaken.
Kolda The Gilded Tower, Honoured Brave Of Vitality.
Jarrek The Skittering Star, Honoured Brave Of Dexterity.
Idalia The Mystic Supernova, Honoured Brave Of Intellect.
Gorum The Unstoppable, Forsaken Brave Of Power.
Intimidating and violent; Gorum was unfit to be a celebrity that could grasp the love of the masses. Too much blood, too much destruction, too little hesitation. Unlike his fellow braves who flourished in their social connections to the people, Gorum practically never spoke, he only gave out orders or asked for new ones. It didn't take long for rumors to spread, for the people to view him as more of a monster on a royal leash than a man on a mission.
Unknown to many however, he was as plain as they came. Dedicated to his work and little else, he ran himself ragged for his duty to the people. He held them closer to his heart than anything else, even at this own expense. He didn't mind the rumors, the stories. It never kept him from working and it was all idle chatter anyway.
All the hard work no one else was willing to do was the work that suited him just fine, no matter how much it hurt.
Hunting rampaging monsters, unrooting criminal organizations, conquering every unconquerable crisis that threatened the collapse of Ugdual over the years fell to him. But even so he didn't hesitate to tackle the next cataclysm that came his way. He served his entire life for his home, for his thankless people.
Going so far as to isolate himself and ask for undeveloped land far from the population. An entire range of forested hills with a single clearing atop the highest hill is where his manor was, undecorated, unkempt and covered in foliage. His home classified as little more than a abandoned building, only possessing the bare minimum for human living. All so he wouldn't bother anyone.
In the dusty study with no furniture besides a desk to stand at for paperwork, Gorum was still as a statue at his desk within the decrepite manor devoid of all life but his own, staring down at a red letter with a black wax seal on it. The crest pressed into the wax was a spiders web with a stylized heart in the center. It was the insignia of the world's largest anti-government organization, Omen's Order.
'Why of all people would they send a letter to me?' he thought, a puzzled look on his face.
Although, if one of the maids he was supposed to hire actually came into work and saw him, they wouldn't be able to tell since he was wearing a full-face helm. It had to have been years since he last removed his blood-stained armor.
"...Parely, perhaps?" He mused aloud.
Wasting little more time, Gorum opened the envelope, beginning to read the red note.
"Dear Gorum, we hope this letter found you well. Despite our... unfortunate dealings with one another over the recent years.
We of the Omen's Order wish to invite you to our organization, on account of your glorious achievements. So many of which were unappreciated by the world you've protected for so long. Don't you think it's time you finally got the recognition you deserve? We understand your frustration at this thankless world and wish to help you achieve your rightful title at the precipice.
Become the fourth Omen, support us and show the world your worth whether they wish to see it or not. If this idea is of interest to you, travel to the top of Leeroy's Mountain in the Demon King's continent. Once you arrive, lift up the arm of the statue present there, and we shall send an emissary group to guide you.
Greatest Wishes, Omen's Order."
Gorum couldn't process it. It was too strange, the organization he had been tasked with destroying was not only inviting him to join them, but they were praising him.
No one had ever praised Gorum or his deeds, never. Not the little people he had saved, not the soldiers he fought alongside. Not even his comrade Braves. Despite how many times he had unconditionally helped and sacrificed for them, whether it was the midst of battle or in a private matter, they never would thank him. Even the King, who he so diligently served since he was a boy hadn't praised him, no matter what deed he did or how much respect he showed, the King never praised Gorum. He only ever gave him a new order.
Gorum was never the sentimental type but in his old age he was growing...conflicted.
Having felt his first ever gesture of kindness, there was a part of him that wanted to proudly puff out his chest and another part that was telling him it wasn't true. Even more conflicting, he was being invited to turn against the people he had served his whole life. Gorum never gave it much thought past 'I'm a soldier.'
He was forced to think about it now, just a little, and it made his heart ache. The people he loved and protected didn't care for him at all. Even hated him.
What was he to think? What was he to do? Would he betray his people and undo all the years of service he had worked for? Or would he dutifully continue on being the same un-thanked tool for his country? Could he even trust such a group like Omen's Order? He had already mowed down some of their operations and they were morally gray at best. But so was he, to an extent.
"Omen's Order...obsessed with violent rebellion for centuries and now all of sudden they want to be diplomatic?" He scoffed, returning to reality and pushing his own thoughts down.
Perhaps they knew they couldn't beat him and planned to try and tame him this way instead? After all, Gorum was beyond strength, he was the first human to ever become a [Destroyer]. He doubted they knew though since his personal information was beyond hidden, only rumors could even glint at an accurate measuring of his strength. He himself hadn't checked his stats or skills for about a decade, he knew he peaked long ago and wasn't interested to find out how much weaker old age had made him.
"Enough thinking." he said with finality.
"Might as well hear them out. If I don't like it, I'll just kill them." Gorum huffed as he rose from his hunched over position and soundlessly strode to the door, grabbing his spear on his way out of his desolate abode.