"Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet~"
The Elf Dragon darted through the ruins, its wings flapping rapidly, stirring up a gentle breeze. In its mouth was a glittering gemstone—the treasure it picked up during its escape.
This little creature cautiously avoided the flames and debris on the ground, trying to find a safe place to hide, but upon seeing Ian, it darted off in the opposite direction.
"Really treating me like a monster, huh?"
Ian felt helpless.
He stood at the junction of flames and ruins, the wind whipping embers across his robe. As he approached the disaster site, Ian waved his magic wand, instantly creating a silver-blue barrier.
The flames abruptly halted as if hitting an invisible wall, ceasing to spread forward, and gradually began to retract and extinguish. Ultimately, the forest fire was effectively controlled under Ian's intervention.
In reality.
If he didn't intervene.
Once he left, the Black-robed Wizards would have come to interfere anyway. After all, such a vast area, like a city engulfed in flames, could lead to unimaginable subsequent damage.
The extinction of species might even occur.
Of course.
Ian's intervention prevented a tragedy.
"I managed to earn some merit."
He looked ahead; although the flames were extinguished, many animals had perished, and the scorched earth had become a foregone conclusion. The remnants of Sky City seemed to merge with the burning earth.
Huge metal beams slanted into the soil, their surfaces covered in molten runes, resembling flowing tears; fragments of magic crystals scattered everywhere, still intermittently erupting dangerous pulses of magic power, turning nearby creatures into blood mist; several Fantastic Beasts blindly charged into the fire, their silver-white manes instantly turning to ash.
They shrieked in agony, ultimately collapsing on the charred ground, forming twisted silhouettes. Clearly, this area might remain a dangerous forbidden zone for a long time.
Years later.
It might even become an unsolved mystery or relic.
"Where are those wizards?"
Having resolved his worries, Ian immediately advanced towards the ruins. He quickly found the wizards' hiding spot, for he could sense the infant version of the Fierce Goddess.
The Black-robed Wizards were deeply hidden.
Yet Ian locked onto the space rift where they hid.
Suddenly.
A mysterious force surged from the tip of the magic wand, forming a strange vortex in the air. As the vortex spun faster, the surrounding air began to distort, and a door to the space rift, glowing with a ghostly light, slowly opened, exuding an ancient and mysterious aura.
This rift's door was forcefully opened by Ian.
Using a spell infused with an Unlocking Spell.
Ian cautiously looked inside, seeing heavy shadows within the rift, faintly visible were a group of black-robed wizards standing there. When they saw Ian appear, their eyes were instantly filled with vigilance and fear, they all moved back, as if he were a terrifying monster, creating a very absurd and comical sensation.
"Huh?"
Ian and the people inside were in a staring contest.
Within the space rift.
Dozens of Black-robed Wizards huddled together, each infused with a powerful magic power, yet at this moment, they retreated like a frightened herd of beasts.
Ian uttered just one word.
It seemed to have petrified these people—even though each possessed immense magical power, even stronger than Ian's, yet all were filled with dread towards him.
"What's wrong with you people?" Ian, having learned their language through prior actions, asked with furrowed brows, puzzled.
The language barrier being resolved.
Finally allowing for effective communication.
However.
In face of Ian's inquiry, the Black-robed Wizards exchanged glances, none speaking, merely encircling Ian at the rift's entrance, their eyes locked onto him with vigilance.
The air felt as dense as water being squeezed out.
Only the heavy breathing echoed in the air.
Ian impatiently took a step forward, intending to squeeze inside, finally, an elder stood up firmly, stopping Ian from a move that might cause panic among his clansmen.
Being the leader is like this.
Any danger has to be addressed first.
At least during Ancient Times, it was like this.
In such a tribal-like group, being a leader wasn't easy; unlike later generations where family members could be scapegoated, otherwise the leader position would be quickly lost.
After all.
Emotional value wasn't important in such times, ensuring the safety of the tribe and leading them to a better life made a leader, not mere deceit.
Ability was crucial in such times.
"Raven…" The black-robed leader was an elder who appeared white-haired and bushy-bearded, his voice dry, squeezed from his throat.
"Do not push us too far."
Although his voice was weak, the elder still stood firmly before the others, his bony fingers tightly gripping a black bone staff, the tip carved with a soaring eagle.
His eyes brimmed with unease, yet he protected the other wizards behind him. On this point, he was a respectable leader.
Whether willing or not.
He did it at least.
"What are you talking about?"
Ian squinted.
"Raven?"
He keenly caught the term.
"Raven? You know me?" Ian mused for a moment, then showed a touch of curiosity. He watched the group's strange reaction.
Inner curiosity surged.
"Stop pretending!" Zeus hesitated briefly, organized his words, and slowly said: "You're the Raven of the Land of Death, the harbinger of disasters."
In his speech.
The elder's voice still held a hint of fear.
"I'm not Raven," Ian raised an eyebrow, softened his tone, raising his hands to show he meant no harm, "I'm just... a pitiful soul corrupted."
"Yes, do not fear, I come from the future and encountered Raven's corpse, resulting in my corruption, so you see me turn Raven-like, but I feel something eroding my soul."
"Indeed, I'm a victim like you." Ian resorted to fabrication hoping to evoke empathy, a tactic quite ahead of its time.
However.
The wizards exchanged glances still in disbelief.
At this point, a familiar figure emerged—a woman he met before, silver-haired like frost, eyes as deep as the cosmos. She stared at Ian before turning to the elder: "Zeus, he didn't lie. He has traces of my daughter's presence... a contract existed between them."
Upon hearing this.
The black-robed elder Zeus was surprised. He glanced back at his tribesmen, eyes full of conflict. He turned again, scrutinizing Ian.
"Zeus?"
Ian was also surprised.
Gaze reverting to the elder.
An eye-lock ensued.
"So, you truly are the future Divine King?"
He verified his previous speculation.
Zeus hesitated again, seemingly unfamiliar with the title, but quickly a hint of contemplation flashed in his eyes, then he slightly straightened his back.
"Divine King..." he softly repeated, as if savoring the weight of the term, "A fitting name."
Ian understood. Indeed, these people were the future gods of myth, just now only wizards who had just toppled Titan rule.
Not yet hailed on a divine pedestal.
"I am not your enemy," Ian reiterated sincerely, "I genuinely come from the future and due to certain reasons, am trapped in this ancient era." He deliberately lowered his stance, even showing fatigue, like a fate-tormented soul.
"Hm? Time travel?"
Zeus scrutinized him, vigilance slightly easing. He glanced a final time at his tribesmen before sighing: "If you aren't Raven… then perhaps we can talk."
Regardless of truth or lies.
He knew he must treat the statements as true—that the power which could vanquish Titans was too terrifying, rendering them lambs to slaughter.
"Good, then let's first discuss what Raven is, shall we?"
Ian posed his most pressing question.
He knew.
Their unusual reactions.
Must have a cause.