King of Arkaen

PROLOGUE

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❝ 1500 B.C.E. ⏤ Near Lake Ur ❞

[About half a days' march from the Village of Badr.]

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The scorching heat from the afternoon sun burned the backs of the men.

Despite the minimal cotton garbs they wore over their chests and thighs, and the headscarves that protected their napes, the fierce Southern heat was simply too unbearable for the men of Badr clan to bear.

But at least the azure waters of Lake Ur, that lay below them, felt refreshing to the touch.

As they waded through the waters, in boats made of straw and wood, the men vigilantly looked around.

The lake was bottomless, and murky from the plants underneath. Yet it held a majestic and welcoming glow, that always made passerby's delighted. However, little did these passerby's know, but this was only because the Lake was enchanted.

And that was why these Badr men were currently here. These six youths were this year's "Chosen Ones" for the expedition to Lake Ur.

This expeditionary trip happened twice a year, in which men from the Clan travelled to the lake to check for monsters and other creatures that could bring harm to their source of magical water. To be a "Chosen One" was an honourable and extraordinary feat, that only a few men ever tasted — and these were the only six this year to have accomplished that feat.

Suddenly, a ripple in the water caught a certain man's eyes.

He shouted out a warning to his comrades, and all eyes turned towards the ripple, in apprehension. Each man picked up his spear, their vigilant eyes not leaving the spot.

But despite their alertness, what emerged out of the waters left each man shocked.

With an enormous splash that knocked over each of the men's boats, a large alligator's open mouth, with sparkling teeth that shone under the scorching sun, arose beneath them. Due to being exposed to the magical properties of the water, the alligator had turned thrice it's size, with canine teeth as big as a normal person's entire hand from thumb to shoulder.

All the men tightened their grips on the sides of their boats, as fear flashed in their eyes.

"𝘞𝘢𝘬𝘵 𝘦𝘴𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘻𝘩𝘢𝘬 𝘈𝘬𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘢!" One of the men shouted.

The language that left his lips was centuries old, something so ancient that people could not decipher it in present times. However, in the days that this story took place in, this language was a common tongue.

"What the hell is that Demon!" He was saying.

"We will all drown if that monster gets a hold of our boats!" Another shouted, agreeing.

As if it were planned, both the men turned together to the person at the centre of their triangle boat formation.

The boats lurched front and back, as the alligator slowly made its way towards the group of men. It was as if the previous tranquillity of the lake was an illusion. Panic enveloped the hearts of the men.

"Aryan, please!" One of them shouted, waiting for the instructions from their General, to flee from the monster. It was impossible to battle the monster while they were atop the lake, as it could easily drown them. And once they were inside the water, not even the mighty God Valor would be able to save them from being devoured.

With a pleading look in his eyes, the man looked at his captain.

The "Aryan." He was the man who had been silently standing, observing the situation. But after the cries of his comrades reached his ears, he slowly picked up his long trident. His golden hair gently flowed in the cool breeze, and his eyes calmly analyzed his opponent. It was like the panic of the other men was too trivial for this one.

"Men," His voice was refined and calm, and strangely reassuring for his entourage, "Do not fear."

The other five stared at this man — the man who had been given the title of "Aryan." The title of General.

With pure, emerald eyes, that seemed to be hooded by his thick lashes, and a unique golden hue for his hair that fell like waves of dripping gold atop his head, he seemed regal, almost noble-looking, with the kind of confidence which was uncommon in normal tribal men.

If being chosen as one of the expeditionary men was honourable, being appointed the Aryan (the supreme General) of these chosen men was an even more prestigious thing. And currently, within their clan, there was only one man in his youth capable of handling such a post.

In the blazing sunlight, he stood straight, a symbol of their clan's pride, that struck terror and respect in friends and foe alike.

It was a man who held no family name.

It was the man known as Kian.

That simple syllable was the name of their famous General.

Unlike the other five men, Kian, otherwise collectively called by his title of "Aryan" or General, wore a detailed beige tunic and black harem pants, signifying his distinguishing class in the hierarchy of their Clan.

Full clothes, that covered one's entire body, were a sign of status and power in the village. And despite their general's dubious lineage, he had been allowed to remain clothed, signifying his importance inside the Clan which defied even the prevailing social structures that relied on family backgrounds and wealth.

Once again, the men stood still, struck by the extraordinary individual in front of them.

It wasn't because of the General's handsome face, that seemed to have been carved like one of the statues of God, but because of the exalted air around him.

These normal clansmen were not used to seeing someone as remarkable as Kian, and so, whenever the General would talk to them, they could only muster the courage to stare inconspicuously or bow repeatedly.

Everybody in the expeditionary group looked up to Kian as if he were the reincarnation of Valour the Mighty Warrior God, Himself. After all, there was nobody in the entire Badr Clan who did not know his name. 'How could a person as perfect as this exist, and not be divinely blessed?' They would wonder.

'Kian' was the protector of the entire village. In fact, rumours said that the Clan Leader Bakar was thinking of making Kian the new head, instead of his own son! That was how prominent this man called Kian was, at least in the eyes of the Badr clans folk.

"What should we do, Aryan...?" One of the men asked. His eyes were strangely filled with a new-found hope at Kian's simple words, 'Do not fear.' He reckoned that their General probably had some plan to escape this predicament.

Meanwhile, the water lurched to even greater heights, as the huge alligator-monster slowly approached them.

'It was absolutely crazy to fight that thing, but...'

The men's eyes followed Kian and his every movement.

'It feels like... if we were to follow him... we could surely reach victory!'

"We fight." Kian's roaring calm voice graced the travel-worn men, "After me, warriors!"

And saying so, the golden crown of their Aryan disappeared into the dark waters below, with his trident pointing venomously at the creature closing in.

But...

If the men knew what Kian was actually thinking, as he charged — or rather, swam — towards the frightening monster, they would be so shocked that they would wonder if any ailments had struck their ears and left them deaf.

As the distance between the creature and the men shortened, there was only thought in Kian's head — and it was not some grand plan devised by the intelligence of a human God on land.

Instead, it was a simple complaint of a childish man. A rebellious thought, really.

'Fucking hell, I'm so sleepy.'