Chapter 6: Terror from The Past
Liraen, Grak'Mar, and Volgran exchanged glances.
Grak'Mar slipped the ring Reyvik had given him earlier onto his finger, then looked at Ren.
Liraen turned his face away, rising from where he sat beside Kael. He walked toward Grak'Mar's wooden chair and leaned casually against it. His expression hardened for a moment before softening into a faint smile.
"His full name is Aeronis Ivan Ashvale," Liraen began, his tone grave. "A noble High Elf… and commander of the Eastern Cardinals."
Reyvik cracked open one eye from where he reclined against a log bench. "Sounds like you know him, Ren."
"Yes," Liraen admitted, voice steady. "He's the one who inspired me, Volgran, and Grak'Mar to pursue the path of the Realm Protectors."
Volgran and Grak'Mar both nodded silently.
"Wait, you guys wanted to become Realm Protectors?" Kael leaned forward, eyes shining with excitement.
"Not anymore, human." Grak'Mar's reply was sharp, his face serious.
"Huh? Why not?" Kael pressed, curiosity flaring.
"Yeah," Nylum chimed in, tilting his watery head. "Could you explain? I don't get it."
Reyvik only gave a slow, silent nod.
"I'd like to know too, elf," Nibsken added bluntly.
Liraen and Grak'Mar exchanged another look before turning up to Volgran, as if waiting for his approval. He answered with a single nod.
Liraen exhaled deeply, adjusting his stance against Grak'Mar's chair. Grak'Mar's eyes met his, and after a beat, he gave a small nod in return.
"Alright, but first… let me tell you about Aeronis." Liraen's voice fell quiet, heavy with memory. "We met him twenty years ago."
"Twenty years ago?!" Kael echoed in surprise. "That's long before we met!" Kael surprised he know Human age and other races flows differently but he didn't expect the gap is so huge. Honestly he didn't know Liraen age accurately.
"Yeah," Grak'Mar added, his gaze distant. "Back then, we hadn't even reached Kallidora yet, human."
Liraen nodded slowly.
"Back then, I lived near Aeronis's mansion same as Volgran and Grak'Mar. I can't recall the name of the place anymore, but I remember this much: we all lived near his reach."
"But when I was a child, my family worked as Aeronis's assistants preparing his equipment before patrols and battles. He was a good man… always helping my poor family. He gave us food, shelter, and kindness."
A faint smile crossed Liraen's face as the memories resurfaced.
"While my parents worked inside his mansion, I often played with Grak'Mar and Volgran outside. We spent our days in Aeronis's vast green backyard, chasing each other with wooden weapons and laughing as we pretended to wield Might like him. Sometimes I try to climb Volgran's giant body. Every day, we played. Every day, we practiced—trying to awaken our own strength, the way we imagined Aeronis did."
One day, the three of us finally awakened our Might. We were so excited, we wanted to show Aeronis."
"At first, we could only use Ground Might," he continued. "But as the days passed, I discovered I could wield Wind Might. Within weeks, I had already mastered it."
To demonstrate, Liraen twirled his hand, summoning a small current of wind that danced around his fingers.
"I use Crystal Might," Grak'Mar added, raising his palm. A shard of light-blue crystal shimmered into existence.
"Volgran… uses flame," the giant rumbled, each word heavy and deliberate. Volgran uses Flame Might as his dominant Might.
"We played with our abilities constantly," Liraen said. "Little by little, we grew stronger and more confident in our dominant Might. And then… one day, Aeronis noticed us."
His eyes softened at the memory.
"He was watching from afar. Then he called us over, placed his hands on our shoulders, and looked up to Volgran towering height and smiled at us. He said…"
Liraen's voice lowered, imitating Aeronis's tone.
'You three have talent. Let me train you. One day, you could become Realm Protectors.'
"We were overjoyed," Liraen said, almost laughing. "It was our childhood dream come true. For the first time, we believed we could show our strength to the world."
"From that day on, Aeronis trained us as if we were his own apprentices. He sharpened our control over Might, taught us weapon skills, and drilled us in everything basic a Realm Protector must know.
Day by day, we grew stronger. Our control became sharper. Even Aeronis himself praised our rapid growth."
Liraen's voice softened, carrying the weight of nostalgia.
"Then, one day, he said to us—"
Liraen straightened his voice, imitating Aeronis's deep, commanding tone.
"You three, you guys must pass the ceremony's selection. Only then can you enter the Academy and begin the path toward becoming true Realm Protectors. There is so much you can learn there—far more than I alone can teach you. I can only give you the basics. But with your talent and the training you've endured, I have no doubt you all will pass the ceremony with ease!"
A faint smile touched Liraen's lips as he recalled that moment.
"He gave us hope… a future. We called him 'Commander,' thanking him, believing that our dreams were finally within reach."
"The ceremony is important," Liraen continued. "It's called the Academy Invocation Ceremony. A ceremony that selects candidates worthy of entering the Academy."
"Oh, that ceremony happens every five years, right? I went last time with Reyv, maybe two years ago," Nylum replied with his watery voice
"Yeah, but it doesn't last too long," Nylum continued. "Reyv was sleepy, and we didn't even know who got selected that day. But, yeah… it's just like Ren said."
Reyvik peeked one eye open at them, then closed it again, as if it weren't his fault they didn't know who got selected.
Kael continued with his excitement after looking at Reyvik with an annoyed face.
"Whoa, that sounds cool!" Nibsken and Kael said almost in unison, eyes lighting up.
"Yeah… sounds cool. I hope," Grak'Mar muttered, his tone grim.
"Huh? What do you mean, Ogre?" Kael frowned. "Didn't you guys go through the ceremony?"
Liraen, Grak'Mar, and Volgran fell silent.
Finally, Liraen spoke, his voice heavy. "No, Kael. We didn't."
"What? I don't understand. Where was Aeronis? Didn't he promise you could pass the ceremony?" Kael pressed, confusion laced with concern.
"Listen here, human" Grak'Mar pushed himself up from his wooden chair, his voice rising.
But Liraen quickly placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. "Let me tell him, Grak'Mar."
The Ogre hesitated, then gave a single nod and sat back down.
Liraen's eyes swept across the group. His voice lowered, steady and somber.
"Listen, all of you." Liraen's voice grew firm, though his eyes carried the weight of memory.
"It's not that we avoided the ceremony on purpose. No… it was because we discovered the truth—what the Realm Protectors truly face on the battlefield."
He stopped, the words catching in his throat. For a long moment, silence filled the room.
"…It is terrifying," he finally said. His jaw tightened. "No—disturbing is the better word."
Liraen's hand clenched into a fist as he lowered his gaze. "When we learned the truth, we realized… it was impossible. It was impossible for us to fight that thing."
They fell silent.
Kael, Nibsken, and Nylum leaned in, their faces growing serious. Until now, none of them truly understood what it meant to be a Protector what they were protecting against… or from whom.
Reyvik kept his eyes closed, but Liraen knew he was listening.
"What are they, Ren?" Nylum asked. His voice trembled, rippling like disturbed water, fear carving itself across his fluid features.
"How did you find them, elf?" Nibsken pressed, his tone sharp.
Kael remained silent. He didn't have a question—he only wanted the answer.
Liraen's expression hardened. "The Realm Protectors don't want anyone outside their ranks to know this information. In fact…" His voice lowered. "…what I'm about to tell you is forbidden. Sharing it is an illegal act."
He swept his gaze over the group, his eyes cold and unyielding. "But for you—for this group—I'll speak. And hear me well…"
His tone dropped into a deadly seriousness, the kind that froze the air around them.
"Never tell anyone else. Not a word. Or I swear on my races name—I will silence you myself."
A heavy silence fell over them. None of them had ever seen Liraen like this before. His usual calm, playful demeanor was gone, replaced by a seriousness that made it clear. This was not a joke or something that can be taken lightly.
Listen Carefully. Liraen seriously speaking
Our world is protected by the Realm Protectors. Each cardinal region has its own commanders, guiding them in defense. In order for us to survive, we must remain within what they call a "Zone"—a space filled with life, food, sunlight, and all the essentials we need to live. But what if that Zone were disturbed? What if something broke through? What if the races within were slaughtered? That is when the Realm Protectors act, guarding our Zones from invasion and collapse. I don't know the system of this world too well, but this much I've heard from Aeronis.
Nibsken and Nylum exchanged uneasy glances, both of them shaken by Liraen's words. Fear hung heavy between them.
But Kael's gaze was different. His eyes burned with a fire that refused to dim. He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady, cutting through the silence.
"Disturbed? By who?"
For a moment, no one answered. The air grew tense. Liraen studied Kael carefully, his sharp elven eyes narrowing. He knew this human was not his other friend—Kael would not cower, not shrink away from truth. No, Kael wanted the answer. He demanded it.
Finally, Liraen's lips curved into something grim, his voice low, heavy with memory.
"Good… Then listen well, Kael. Let me tell you a story."
His expression hardened, the weight of the past etched deep in his tone.
"A story that I, Volgran, and Grak'Mar will never forget for the rest of our lives."
It happened a week before the ceremony.
As usual we were waiting in Aeronis's wide greenery backyard for our daily training. Usually, the evenings were quiet—no patrols, no battles. Just training beneath the fading light.
But that day was different.
We saw Aeronis in a full set of armor, his sword at his side. His face was stormed with anger.
Then, without warning, he rushed toward us.
"No training," he barked. "I have something to do."
We had never seen him in such a hurry, and never without his usual smile. That day, there was nothing but grim purpose in his eyes. Without another word, he sprinted to the teleportation platform beside the mansion and vanished.
At first, we didn't do anything. We just stared at the wide platform, the light still swirling. The portal was still open.
I glanced at Grak'Mar. "Yo… look at that. It's still open."
Grak'Mar wanted to reply but Volgran grunted, already stepping forward. "Volgran wants to close it."
"Wait, Giant!" Grak'Mar grabbed Volgran's leg, holding him back. His voice was sharp, serious.
I fly to Volgran's shoulder and put my hand on his temple. "Hold on, Volgran. We need to figure out how Aeronis closes it first. He always shuts it when he leaves. Maybe he was in too much of a rush this time."
I bit my lip. "Let me get my parents. They'll know what to do."
I darted back into the mansion, my heart pounding, and found my father in his study. I asked him breathlessly how to close it, and without wasting a moment he followed me out.
When we returned, the glow of the portal was even stronger. My father raised his hand, summoning his wind Might, and sent a spiraling gale to seal the gate.
But then—
The platform roared. The air cracked like thunder. Instead of closing, the portal flared open even wider, spilling shadows and violet light across the courtyard.
Despite his towering height of twenty-five meters of muscle and stone-like flesh Volgran staggered first. His massive frame tilted as if caught by invisible chains.
"Volgran!" I scream, the ground quaking as his enormous hand clawed at the earth, carving trenches deep into the soil. But even the giant's strength was nothing against the pull of the portal. His colossal body lurched forward.
Grak'Mar roared, his ogre arms straining as he tried to catch Volgran's hand. I leapt in beside him, my smaller elven frame bracing against the pull. But it was useless his fingers slipped from ours. We fall together with him while my father not moving shocked by that sudden situation.
VWOOSHHHH!
Light exploded. My vision burned white. My body convulsed as if torn apart and re-stitched midair. I couldn't breathe, couldn't even scream the air froze in my lungs, my voice swallowed by the void.
Then, just as suddenly, we were hurled out the other side. My knees buckled, the taste of skin on my tongue, my chest heaving as the world reshaped around me.
THUD!
"Ughhh… my head…" I groaned, rubbing my forehead.
When my vision cleared, I realized both Grak'Mar and I had landed on something warm and solid, Volgran's chest. His enormous body cushioned our fall like a mountain of flesh and muscle.
"You okay, Volgran?" I shouted up at him.
The giant blinked slowly, his heavy brows furrowed. His voice rumbled, deep and sluggish.
"...Yes… nothing… too… serious. Volgran… okay."
Grak'Mar and I climbed down toward his feet—and that's when I saw it. A dark red pool spreading beneath him.
"Volgran! Your foot!" I gasped.
The giant lifted his heel slowly, wincing.
"...Feet… little… blood."
"Little?!" I barked. "That's not 'little,' Volgran—that's a damn bathtub full of blood!"
But then I paused, catching my breath. For a giant his size… bleeding that much was probably normal.
Still, it didn't change the fact that he was hurt.
"Don't move, Volgran," I ordered, glancing at the wound. "Stay here, you'll make it worse."
The giant gave a slow, obedient nod, his voice like rolling stones.
"...Okay."
Grak'Mar was the first to climb down from Volgran's chest. He took a few steps, then suddenly froze.
My feet were still resting on Volgran's broad chest, but when I saw Grak'Mar standing stiff, staring at something, a chill ran down my spine.
I quickly slid down and ran to him.
"Grak'Mar, are you okay?"
He didn't answer at first. The silence was heavy. Then he finally spoke.
"Oi, Elf," he called, his tone low and strange.
"Huh?"
"Look at that." Grak'Mar lifted his arm and pointed. His finger trembled slightly.
I followed his gaze. At first, it just looked like a massive, broken shadow in the distance. But then the shape became clear—an enormous chunk of a destroyed building, jutting out from the shattered earth.
Even though the clouds above were thick and gray, and the sky threatened rain and like its about to cry, I recognized it instantly. My stomach dropped.
The fear ran cold down my spine.
It was a castle.
Not just any castle, The Third Castle of the Etherians.
The assembly place of my people. The hall where the Etherians like the elves, dwarves, gnomes, pixie-kin, and fairies once gathered to hear the words that shaped our lives. Out of the three great Etherian castles that remain, this one… this one stood as a beacon of unity.
And now, it lay shattered before my eyes.
I knew it instantly, even through the rolling gray clouds and the heavy scent of coming rain. I remember walking these halls with my parents when I was young, carrying messages, hearing decrees, serving Aeronis himself as his important assistant. It had been grand, radiant—a place where countless Etherians once filled its courtyards.
Now it was nothing but rubble.
My legs refused to move. My chest locked tight, trembling. Fear swallowed me whole.
Volgran couldn't stand; his feet were torn and bleeding. Grak'Mar stood frozen, his face dark as stone. And me… I was no better.
I could not move.
I could not breathe.
I was terrified.
Just what… what could possibly destroy this grand castle?
Who could be strong enough to shatter the Etherian Third Castle—a place guarded by the Realm Protectors themselves?
I was about to run. My chest tightened, my legs trembled, and I shut my eyes, fighting back tears. Terror clawed at me.
Then tap. A heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
It was Grak'Mar.
"Yoo, Elf! Don't be scared. You wanna be a Realm Protector, right? Then get those feet moving. We're checking if anyone's still out there."
I lifted my gaze and met his eyes. Pure spirit burned there—fear hidden beneath, but never surrendered. He was terrified too, I could see it, but he refused to let it rule him. Even though Grak'Mar was an ogre, he understood something simple and unshakable: we have to help each other.
I nodded, swallowing hard. Slowly, I forced myself forward, leaving Volgran to rest where he'd fallen after the impact.
"Thanks, Grak'Mar," I whispered.
"Let's move, Elf." He grinned through the fear.
Step by step, we pressed on. The ruins of the great castle stretched before us—fallen bricks, scattered flames, shattered armor, broken arrows, and weapons abandoned in the dirt. Yet no voices. No footsteps. Not even corpses.
Only silence.
And in that silence, the weight of dread grew heavier.
We finally reached the ruined castle. I summoned my Wind Might, lifting myself into the air for a better view. Below, Grak'Mar planted his massive hands on the ground, and with a rumble he called forth jagged crystal, shaping it into a towering spire so he too could rise above the wreckage.
At first, all I could see was haze. The sky was choked with storm clouds, their shadows smothering the land in a dull grey. The air carried the acrid stench of ash. The once-grand castle lay in ruin broken stone and twisted steel, its silhouette blurred by the heavy fog.
I narrowed my eyes, straining to see through the gloom. The castle's heart had been torn apart so completely it looked less like the work of siege engines and more like some monstrous force had ripped its very soul out.
I landed in the middle of the castle, Grak'Mar lowering his crystal tower beside me. We searched for any sign of life, but there was nothing until I heard it.
At first, it was faint, barely audible, but the closer I got, the louder it became.
I peered through a destroyed wooden door. It had once been massive, but now it was just a hollow frame, a gateway to the backyard. And then… I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Grak'Mar!" I shouted, my voice trembling, calling to him as he continued searching the castle for anyone in need.
"Yo, what is it, elf?" he replied, rushing over.
I gestured ahead, and we both froze. Before our eyes unfolded chaos: shouting, screaming, the clash of weapons against steel, commands barked in desperation. The crackle and roar of unleashed Might tore through the battlefield like a living storm.
Anyone with a sane mind would already recognize it.
This was no mere skirmish.
It was a war.
We were in the battlefield.
Grak'Mar and I quickly recognized the chaos before us—armies clashing with no end in sight. I saw them all: ogres, elves, dwarves, orcs, cyclopes, elementals, beastkin. Above, flying units—massive insects with armored riders, winged draconoids, even a few towering giants—battled in the skies.
But despite their differences, they all bore one thing in common.
On their shoulders gleamed a circular badge, bright red, glowing even through the haze of war.
I couldn't make out the letters on it, but I didn't need to. I had seen that mark before.
Aeronis always wore one when he was on duty.
And now, countless others bore it proudly.
There was no mistake.
These were the ones who had always stood to protect us.
They were the Realm Protectors.
At first, we smiled with relief
but in the blink of an eye, that comfort shattered,
our expressions hardening the moment we realized
what they were truly fighting against.
It's… a race I have never seen before.
But more importantly can they even be considered a race?
None of them looked the same.
Some crawled, some floated, others twisted in ways a body should never move.
They shared no single shape, no single shade of skin.
Some bore warped limbs, others carried bones jutting out like jagged spears—
and some… I couldn't even begin to explain.
Yet one thing bound them all together.
Terror.
Every movement they make pulls fear out of me, like it's being wrung from my chest. My body automatically tells me. They don't belong here
End of Chapter 6
Just one question. Who are they?