The tavern had settled into a calm hush again, though an air of unease lingered. Akin rose from his table after finishing his meal, his black cloak draped over his shoulder, his calm demeanor casting a heavy silence across the room. Conversations that had resumed during his eating now dwindled into murmurs and cautious glances.
He walked toward the front counter where the innkeeper—a middle-aged woman with a sharp gaze dulled by fatigue—watched him approach with a subtle wariness.
"I need a room," Akin said.
She nodded quickly, handing him an iron key. "Second floor, second door to the left."
Akin accepted it without a word and turned, his boots creaking against the wooden floor as he headed for the stairs. The tavern fell completely silent behind him, only the occasional whisper slipping through the thick air. Eyes followed him, tension rippling through every table as if they all sensed something unnatural about the young man who had just shared their space.
He reached the room, pushed the door open, and entered. It was a small chamber with a single bed, a wooden desk, and a basin of water sitting on a washstand. The lantern on the wall flickered with a dying flame.
Akin tossed his cloak to the side and collapsed onto the bed. For a long moment, he stared at the ceiling. That's when it came — the haunting echo of memory.
Rain against a tin roof.
The scent of his mother's jollof rice wafting through their small Lagos apartment.
Her laughter, full and comforting, calling him to dinner.
Akin's throat tightened, and he sat up. He walked to the basin, splashing cold water onto his face. His reflection stared back at him—older than his years, eyes colder than they once were.
He dried his face and returned to the bed. The lantern had dimmed completely now, and the room was cloaked in darkness. He lay down again, folding one arm behind his head.
"Hey… you there?" he asked aloud into the silence.
A familiar voice echoed gently in his mind. "Yeah?"
"I've been thinking," Akin said. "I can't keep calling you 'hey' or 'deity.' Don't you have a name?"
The voice hesitated. "I don't remember. All I know is my role—as the guardian of Elarian. My existence has always been tied to this land… as its deity."
"Hmph," Akin grunted. "So you're invisible and a kind of mini god—"
"I'm not a mini god," the voice cut in with a quiet chuckle.
Akin allowed himself a small smile. "Alright then. Since you're the guardian of Elarian… and that's the name of this kingdom… I'll call you Elan. From now on, you're Elan."
The voice was quiet for a heartbeat, then replied softly, "Thank you… for bestowing a name upon me."
"Elan," Akin repeated, testing the name. "I want to go to the capital. Show myself to the king. Rescue my friends."
But Elan's tone grew somber. "Not yet. You need to head to the beastkin territory first. I sense something there. A faint energy… familiar, though distant. Someone in that region holds a tie to you."
Akin frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Elan answered. "Though the signal is weak, I feel the connection."
Akin exhaled slowly. "Then we've found our next destination."
He closed his eyes and let sleep take him, his mind briefly at peace.
A sharp sound shattered the stillness.
CLANG!CLANG!CLANG!
The town's emergency bell rang furiously.
Akin's eyes flew open, It was morning already. Shouts echoed in the streets. The ground trembled faintly beneath the weight of chaos.
He leapt to the window.
Outside, villagers ran in panic. Warriors in armor rallied at the village square. Flames erupted as beasts tore through wooden homes. Mages conjured shields and flames, but the monsters were unrelenting.
But what drew Akin's attention was a presence—standing at the tree line, watching with cold amusement.
A mutated beastman. Taller than the rest, covered in blackened fur with jagged horns, and eyes glowing crimson. It wasn't attacking—it was commanding.
Akin stood up and grabbed his cloak, tossing it over his shoulder. He stepped out of the room and down the stairs. The innkeeper was crouched behind the counter, trembling.
He walked to her and said calmly, "Sign me off. I'm leaving."
She blinked at him, startled, but said nothing as he walked and pushed open the tavern doors.
The first beast spotted him immediately—a grotesque hound-like creature with six eyes and burning saliva dripping from its fangs. It charged.
Akin didn't flinch.
He raised his left hand, extended two fingers, and summoned a sphere of fire atop them.
"Know your place," he said.
The flame condensed instantly into a beam and shot forward like divine wrath, annihilating the creature and several others in its path.
Silence fell.
Warriors stopped fighting. Mages turned mid-cast. Even the beasts hesitated.
Akin stepped forward.
"Allow me to join you," he said, raising his voice.
He rose off the ground, levitating slow and steady. Fire curled in one hand. Lightning danced in the other. His eyes ignited with golden energy.
The skies darkened.
He clasped both hands together and summoned an orb where fire and lightning merged. It swirled, growing denser until it glowed white-hot.
Then—he released it.
A flash.
An explosion.
The battlefield was consumed in light and thunder. When it cleared, nothing but scorched earth remained. Every beast, obliterated except for the civilians and warriors that are fighting.
The mutant beastman gasped. It turned, trying to flee into the forest.
Thunk!
A hole appeared in its head as a narrow spike of ice pierced its skull. The body collapsed, twitching.
Akin lowered his hand. He had compressed water from the air and fired it with precision.
Villagers erupted into cheers. Warriors roared in relief. But Akin was already gone.
He didn't wait for thanks. He didn't need applause.
He vanished beyond the village walls, heading toward the beastkin territory.
Whispers began to spread.
A man with glowing blue eyes and a deathly aura who crushed warriors with a look.
Some said he was cursed.
A mysterious stranger who levitated like a god and destroyed a monster horde in a single strike.
Merchants carried the tale from town to town. Soon, the rumors reached Empheria's capital. High Mage Estria. Jendol. Annabel.
None of them realized the truth.
None of them knew the outcast they had abandoned was still alive.
Even the king was intrigued.
In his private chambers, he ordered his son and the summoned heroes to investigate the village that had suffered the attack.
To find out what had truly happened.
But the answers they seek… are already far ahead of them.