The Weight of the Name
The camera drifts into the Elfen village, the same emerald-lit chamber from the previous.
The emerald crystal spins mid-air, casting green glimmers across the room.
The tension is suffocating—the air thick with the unspoken weight of the teenage elf's word:
"Shammroy."
Eldrin (sweat trickling down his face, eyes wide in silent realization)
(No words—only the shattering weight of understanding.)
Rakhad (brows lowered, stance solid)
(Sharp attention fixed on the source of the word.)
Zoick (mirroring Rakhad's focus, breathing slow but heavy)
(Eyes locked, calculating the meaning.)
Querion (breaking the silence with composure):
"Thanks, Nader! Ok, then we will leave."
Nader (leaning forward, urgent):
"He—"
Before the sentence can form, a portal bursts open, swirling energy flooding the room. Querion pulls everyone in before Nader can finish.
Nader (disappointed sigh):
"Nah… he went away again!"
Teenage Elf (light chuckle):
"It's ok!"
Arrival at the Den
The portal collapses, dropping the group into Querion's den.
Zoick (eyes narrowed, suspicion dripping from every glance)
(Taking in the strange atmosphere.)
Rakhad (matching doubt, jaw tight)
(Prepared for confrontation.)
Eldrin (a heavy look of knowing, breaths deep and slow)
(Steps forward with an almost relieved presence.)
After a long walk, the chamber opens into a vast, ancient hall—stone walls etched with claw marks, ending in a monolithic rock throne.
From the depths of the shadows, a voice rumbles—low and commanding.
Mysterious Voice (resonating from the dark):
"Why do you bring them here, Querion?"
The shadows ripple—then a million demons surge forward like a black sea.
Rakhad (eyes wide, whispering in shock):
"These… these many demons?!"
Zoick (snapping his gaze between them):
"What is this?!"
Eldrin (unmoved, calm)
(His composure unshaken despite the overwhelming force.)
From the demon ranks, a man steps forward—face aged like Querion's, yet radiating presence.
Man (smiling faintly):
"Hey."
Eldrin (vision blurring, knees weakening)
(Loses consciousness, darkness swallowing his sight.)
Zoick (half-annoyed):
"Ah! He blacked out again."
Rakhad (pressing for answers):
"Hey, tell us! Is Shamm Roy a good guy or a ba—"
The hall erupts in a deafening roar, demon voices booming like thunder.
Querion and the man raise their hands—instantly, silence.
Zoick (whispering to himself in tense confusion):
"What…?"
Man (sharp tone to Querion):
"Why do you bring them here, Querion? For this?"
Querion (head bowed slightly):
"I apologize. They don't know about him. They are here to know about him."
The First Step
Steam fills the bathroom.
Sang (beneath the shower, mind racing)
(The vision he see in blur view while he dieing )
He get towel-dried and dressed, he sits in his room. His eyes drift to the memory of an ancient stone carving—
a figure clutching its heart, another holding a glowing orb, one hand raised, one lowered near the stomach.
Sang (in awe, a whisper to himself):
"This… it's just like my situation. This might explain… what the voice keeps saying."
And then he start to do meditation again.He places a hand over his heart—
feeling the rhythm.
From its center—and from the left and right—thin threads of light extend to his clenched fist.
Still his eyes shut, he rises.
His glowing fist lowers to his stomach.
The other hand hovers above it—spinning the light in a slow, deliberate motion.
When his eyes open—
the abyss greets him again… but now it has faded into charcoal gray.
Sang (frustrated, quiet sigh)
And turned away and sits.
The Beast's Shadow
The voice returns—deep, ancient, reverberating through his bones.
Beast's Voice (with certainty):
"You finally made it. I knew you would."
Smoke swirls thickly as the ground trembles.
A colossal leg emerges first—armor gleaming in the dim light—
then a chest plated in jagged steel—
then massive, bladed wings unfolding like a predator preparing to strike.
At last, the twin horns, curling from scalp and forehead, pierce the smoke.
The fifty-mile-tall beast stands before Sang, nostrils hissing smoke like an enraged bull.
Their gazes meet—
and the air between them feels ready to shatter.