Elios asked quietly, breaking the silence, "What happened to him?"
The air turned heavy, thick with the weight of shared, untold history. For the first time, the three young people—Elios, Gracia, and Flexo—all shared the same silence: the deep, profound silence of loss.
Flexo's mother quietly wiped a tear from her eye as she stood by the doorway, her gaze fixed on the darkening horizon. Flexo noticed her distress and muttered, "We don't talk about my father very often… my mother is still very sensitive about it."
Trying desperately to lighten the mood, Flexo suddenly sprang up, his rubbery grin returning with full force. He clapped his hands together. "Anyway, dinner's ready! Get ready for a feast! I didn't just cook this meal—I battled it into perfection!"
Elios, intrigued by the sheer absurdity of the statement, raised an eyebrow. "Battle? Against what exactly?"
Flexo dramatically pointed a stretching, elastic finger at the pot simmering over the small fire. "Against the twin tyrants: hunger and bad taste. I fought a hard fight, and I won decisively."
Gracia, still recovering from her tears, chuckled weakly, the sound brittle but genuine. "Let's hope your victory tastes good, then, Flexo."
They began to eat, the sound of spoons scraping bowls slowly filling the silence as laughter slowly faded into the quiet crackle of the fire. Flexo's mother excused herself, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and went outside to tend the gentle Cattle they kept nearby. One cow, sensing her distress, gently nudged its head against her hand and licked it, as if trying to comfort her deep, lingering pain.
Inside, Elios pressed gently, his voice low. "What really happened to your father, Flexo? I need to understand this place."
Flexo hesitated, his grin finally fading completely. He looked down at his half-eaten meal. "It's a long story."
But when Gracia softly said, her voice filled with quiet understanding, "It's okay, you can tell us. We're ready to listen," Flexo immediately stood up, stretching his spine until he was twice his normal height. He took a dramatic bow and exclaimed, "Alright then! The audience has spoken! I'll tell you everything from the very beginning!"
Elios sighed, a mixture of exasperation and relief. "What a guy he is…"
THE TALE OF MYNTHARA
"There once existed a great and mysterious nation," Flexo began, his usually comical voice now surprisingly resonant and somber.
"A country hidden from the outside world by powerful Aetheric mists, known as MYNTHARA — the land of Mystery and Power."
Mynthara was vast—an expanse filled with natural, powerful Aether currents that manifested physically. It was a place of glowing rivers that ran like molten silver, endless golden deserts that whispered ancient secrets, sky-piercing mountains crowned with frost, and infinite valleys where exotic life flourished. It was entirely powered by the energies of Aether.
The society itself was complex, divided into over 300 distinct Clans, each gifted with a unique elemental power channeled through the ambient Aether. There were clans of Fire, Water, Stone, Wind, Light, Shadow, and countless others.
Crucially, each Clan Leader—the head of the lineage—bore a sacred Artifact Ring. This ring was not just ornamentation; it symbolized their entire lineage, their accumulated strength, and their birthright to lead. Rivalries between the Fire and Water clans were fierce, and the struggles for resources were frequent. But despite the battles and overpowering clan pride, life in Mynthara was vibrant, prosperous, and rich in spirit.
"My father, Rubble Rubberon," Flexo continued, his eyes glazing over with respect, "was the renowned leader of the Rubberon Clan. He was strong, infinitely flexible, and a master tactician. But our clan had a crucial, tragic vulnerability: we were easily defeated by sharp objects or extreme cold."
He straightened his back. "He and my elder brother, Tyber, were known across Mynthara for their bravery, using their agility to save many lives during border skirmishes."
RISE OF THE SAVIOR
"One day," Flexo said, his voice darkening and falling to a conspiratorial whisper, "a man wearing a mask appeared before all the clans. He materialized in the middle of a massive gathering of leaders, uninvited and unknown. On his mask, a strange, terrifying symbol glowed—one that no one had ever seen or could understand. It was the same symbol you saw on the Royal Gate."
He called himself Savior — the man who claimed to have seen Heaven itself. He spoke of salvation, of eternal peace beyond death, and of freeing all souls from the endless, petty cycle of clan wars and suffering. Many of the weary citizens were immediately drawn to his silver tongue, his impossible charisma, and the raw, terrifying power he wielded, even when his true origins and clan remained a complete mystery.
He performed what could only be described as impossible Aether Magic, manipulating reality as if the world itself bowed before his will. Slowly, quietly, hundreds and then thousands of people began to abandon their clans to follow him.
The critical turning point came when the Great War broke out between the fierce Emberion Clan (Fire) and the proud Tydora Clan (Water). The entire continent feared the destructive potential of this conflict.
Savior stepped in. He publicly offered his support and his unparalleled power to the Tydora Clan. Under his terrifying, strategic guidance, they launched an offensive that completely decimated the Emberion Clan. The Fire leaders were defeated, and Tydora was victorious.
But that victory was a trap set in the dark.
In the dead of night, just hours after the victory celebrations, Savior betrayed the Tydora Clan with a shocking, unprecedented attack—annihilating them completely with a mysterious wave of dark, unknown Aether. Not even ash or water remained of the Clan. They were simply erased.
He then stood upon the smoking, empty battlefield and declared to the horrified continent:
"Those who follow me shall rise to Heaven. Those who resist... shall drown in Hell."
The remaining clans, terrified by the instantaneous obliteration of the powerful Tydora, were given a choice. One by one, they bent their knees, offering their loyalty and their Artifact Rings to his iron rule.
Savior soon united Mynthara under his banner of false hope and absolute power.
Flexo still continues his story, his face pale with the memory of fear and betrayal...