"I created a virtual copy of you," the wall said. "So they cannot kill you."
Xerxez stared at his duplicate. The sight was at once ridiculous and grave: there he was, fighting like a shadow puppet while he sat eating eggs. The absurdity hit him and then a prickle of gratitude threaded through his chest. "You made a decoy?" he asked, half relieved, half suspicious. "That's—actually clever. Why didn't you tell me?"
"You would not have believed me," the voice answered. "And you would have gone willingly to the teeth. This way, you learn without dying."
He chewed slowly, savoring more than food now—savoring a small, absurd mercy. The virtual Xerxez took a hit, staggered, but did not fall. He parried again, and the claws passed harmlessly through the image as if through smoke. The Lacerta clan hissed and turned, disoriented by a phantom.
Xerxez swallowed. "So it's like a lesson," he said, the word tasting brittle. "A demonstration."
"Remember the demonstration." The wall's voice softened, but it carried the same iron as before. "And remember the eggs."
He laughed, a little too loud, then covered his mouth, cheeks flushing. "Right. Remember the eggs." He couldn't tell whether he meant the food or the warning.
He pushed the plate away when it was empty, wiped his fingers on his sleeve, and stood. The virtual copy turned, shoulders squared, and in the reflection of the screen Xerxez met his own eyes—now clearer, sharpened by fear and by eggs.
"Alright," he said to the wall, to himself, and to the pale duplicate still holding the line. "Let them come."
IN THE SCENE
"Hey… are you ignoring us?" The Lacerta flock leader's voice cut through the air. His scaled body shimmered, scales rippling like water before dissolving into smoke. In their place stood not the wizened elder the boy had imagined, but a young adult—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, and proud, as if carved from defiance itself.
"Whoa… he's a human?" the boy whispered through a mouthful of food, crumbs tumbling from his lips as he stared at the flickering wall.
"Yes," came the calm assurance of Mr. Martheuw Cereun, his voice steady within the chamber. "And they are all humans. Look closely—those figures are his trainees."
The boy leaned closer, squinting at the phantom shapes shifting across the glowing screen. "So… they're all kids like me, huh? And the Lacerta entity lets them turn into little lizards?"
The answer resonated, low and firm. "Not quite. In Salamandar land, some are born gifted, able to shift into lizard form on their own. Most remain small, ordinary reptiles with little power. But a chosen few—touched directly by the Lacerta entity—become monsters the size of mountains."
The boy's jaw dropped, and a piece of half-chewed bread slipped from his lips. "Mountains? Whoa… that means they're amazing! If I ever meet one of those giants… it'd be worse than facing a gripping monster. I'd be like—like a pebble stuck under their footstool."
Inside the scene, the flock leader's gaze hardened like steel. "Give us the dagger. We hunt treasure. And all treasure in this stream belongs to me."
The boy gasped as he watched his double on the screen—his own likeness—tighten his grip on the dagger. Slowly, instinctively, the copy lifted the weapon, holding it before him like a torch warding off the dark.
While the boy was watching the scene on the wall, his eyes examine the face of the lizard's leader. "Hah! I didn't expect this. In Lacerta form he looked almost cute, but in this human shape? His face is like… a furious vulture trying to smile!"
"Cute?" The wall flickered, light rippling as though offended. "They are ferocious when they evolve—not some bird to be mocked."
Boy sputtered mid-sip, nearly choking on his drink, as he listened to wall. He thumped his chest, coughing and laughing all at once. "Ah! A furious vulture—yes! That's even worse than angry crane! Wait, what do you mean by evolve?"
Inside, the projection of him squared his shoulders. His voice trembled but rang with defiance. "I will not agree!"
"The life of a Lacerta entity in the Thavizarus clan…" Martheuw's voice trailed off, heavy with fatigue. He gave a faint shake of his head, as though brushing away cobwebs. "That is another story. One I have no will to speak today."
Xerxez leaned forward, his curiosity sparking. "Another story? What kind of story?"
But the wall dimmed, its light rippling like a tired sigh. "Another time, boy. Not now."
The wall scene seems forming a possible chaos when a leader of the flock commanded his retinue. "Hah… then you wish to die? Attack him!"
The wall spasmed violently—*Blitzzzz!*—before collapsing into darkness. The scene evaporated like mist, leaving only a faint hum in the chamber.
"Hey—hey! What was that?!" The boy jumped to his feet, his food pouch tumbling to the ground. His cheeks flushed red in outrage. "It wasn't done yet! I want to see the fight!"
But the calm voice of Martheuw Cereun answered, steady and unmoved.
"That scene has passed. You are safe now. Do not return to the stream—and promise me, when the time comes, you will help me."
"Alright... I promise," Xerxez murmured. Then, hesitantly, "But I can't promise I'll save you. I don't even know where that dungeon is… or what spell keeps you there."
"Do not trouble yourself with that," Martheuw replied gently. "It is my burden to unravel the curse—to find the path back. When that day arrives, I shall return to the land I once swore to protect… and guard my chosen people again."
In the quiet that followed, Martheuw's thoughts stirred like whispers in the void: I knew their plan long before it unfolded… yet even with that knowledge, I could not escape the snare they wove. Their spell bound me all the same — a cruel reminder that even foresight cannot always defy fate.
Xerxez tilted his head, curiosity gleaming. "Chosen people? Which country was that?"
A low chuckle echoed through the chamber. "Too many words for one day. Keep your wonder to yourself—and go home now. And don't linger by the stream again, or the talking dagger may refuse to help you next time. It's tired already."
"Tired?" Xerxez blinked. "How can a dagger get tired? It's not even human!"
"Ch… ch… enough questions," the voice scolded with quiet amusement. "Go home."
The wall shuddered, its luminous panels folding inward, vanishing into hidden grooves. With a soft hiss, the light dimmed—like reality itself sewing shut the seam between worlds.
In the blink of an eye, the boy stood once more by the rushing stream. The dagger weighed heavy in his hand, its surface cold and alive. At his feet, the pouch of eggs sat waiting, as though nothing had changed. Yet his heart pounded wildly, and the taste of unfinished battle lingered on his tongue.
He saw the leader of the lizards. But, the ground was shaking...like there was an earthquake. The Thavizarus clan feel something incoming from afar. "Let's go comrades!!!" If it wasn't for the incoming creature...we will not stop fighting with the boy." The leader said. Then, he thought, but the question is, how the boy was suddenly become knowledgeable to fight, many of my trainees now was battered, dislocated, and even wounded by that little brat of Thallerion. Well, if I can upgrade my evolution....I could defeat him like a flea on my finger nail.
The leader immediately transforming into a Swamp-lizard and swim swiftly like a fish. But the leader said before they leave. "Mark my face well, though we walk away broken. I will return—and Thavizarus shall rise, darker and greater than you could ever imagine."
The boy smiled proudly as they ran disparately like sensing a powerful entity. "why are they look, they were defeated? Are they afraid of earthquake?" Well, I don't know what Mr Martheuw Cereun did to them, as I can see... many of his trainees was aching with crippled joints, did he dislocate them, like twigs twisting their very bones?
---an hour ago---
The boy still stubbornly leasuring in the stream, he sat on the grass, watching birds fleeting across the sky like tiny comets. In his hand glimmered the dagger he had found—ornate, covered in strange carvings, its hilt studded with amethyst, topaz, emerald, and a pearl at the center.
"Well, Yeak, you are a real treasure," he muttered, tilting the blade, "but more importantly… you're a powerful dagger that lets me talk to Mr. Martheuw Cereun. And—wait—hey! Where'd you go?"
A sleepy whisper tickled his mind. "I was exhausted, boy. So, if you don't mind… nap time. Yeak."
"What? Nap time? You can't just disappear when you want!"
"Actually, yes I can. Self-willed dagger, remember? Read the fine print." his hand project a tiny virtual screen. "What is this? A magic?"
"It is not a magic..it is a technology, I mean a futuristic technology."
"Whoa!" Xerxez scowled. "But, Mr. Cereun forgot to mention I was babysitting a blade with an attitude."
"Relax. You can summon me anytime—if it's important. Emergency important. Not 'I'm bored, talk to me' important." Well, I can sense when is important.
He threw up his hands. "So what about me? You're just leaving me here—alone, daggerless, and without a talking buddy?"
"Grrr… overused… too tired… zero patience for whining… bye."
"Wait! Don't you dare—"
The dagger winked out of existence. The mark on his palm shimmered, then faded. He stared at his hand as if it had personally betrayed him.
"Oh, come on! Don't ghost me now!" He found himself arguing with his own palm, waving it around like it owed him an explanation.
"Croak!"
A frog on a nearby rock stared at him with judgmental eyes, then leapt into the swamp.
"Great," Xerxez sighed. "Even frogs think I'm crazy."
***
"I should go home and tell Dad—and my friend too. Oh, he's gonna be so surprised!" He said.
He peeked into his pouch, grinning at the bright eggs: blue, green, and speckled. They shimmered like little jewels. Every time he brought a bagful home, his parents lit up—even when they were mad that he slipped past the guards. Maybe if I get enough, they'll forget all about scolding me. But what he really wanted… was that one golden egg.
"But here I am, still sneaking around… hehe." He tilted his head at the sun and gasped. "Nine already? Oops." Leaning against a tree near Thallerion's border, he heard it:
SQUAWK! SWAAAAWK!
His heart leapt. The mythical bird! I hear it again! This time I'll find the nest for sure. His stomach growled as he licked his lips. Mmm… Mr. Martheuw's recipe… sooo good.
He pushed through the grass, crouching low. Then—there it was. A bird unlike any other, feathers shimmering pearl and blue like the Borealis, eyes glowing amethyst. I heard, their eggshell was golden.
"Aha!" You showed up at last. That cry… it's like you're calling me to your nest! He tightened his grip on the bow, whispering, Please, no one interrupt me this time. Just me, you, and those eggs. He ducked behind rocks and branches, as if he was a thief carefully moving, and giggling whenever the bird's cry echoed through the forest like music. Its wings shimmered as it hopped from tree to tree.
"Almost there…" His pulse quickened. Grandpa said mysterious Cranes are scarier than Cassowaries. Scarier?! I mean—what if it pecks me to death? Nah, I'll be fine. I only need two eggs… or four… okay, maybe five. Then I'm out.
And then—
HOOOOOONK!
A trumpet blast, deep and heavy, shook the land. The Cranes shrieked and scattered like sparks from a fire.
"Nooo! Why now?!" He stomped the ground, nearly dropping his arrow. "I was this close! Just a step more!" He growled angrily.
"Argh!" Always interrupted! Is it an earthquake? His mind raced as he clutched his pouch of eggs and dashed toward the palace as he heard a growl.
Then another blast tore through the air.
HOOOOOOONK!
He froze mid-step. Two honks? That… that can't be good.