Legend

He had left the village not too long ago and was now on his way to Gilgamesh and Thenas small shack. The path took him through a small forest, the canopy surprisingly thick until he emerged into a clearing where a humble shack stood. 

Its door was wide open, swinging slightly in the breeze. He furrowed his brow, upping his pace as he approached the familiar hut. Upon looking inside he blinked in surprise, every single one of their belongings were gone.

Huh. 

They must have left. He had been looking forward to seeing the two immortals again, the empty shack a sign they had sadly moved on. 

He searched for a note, a clue on their potential whereabouts but found nothing. With a sigh of frustration he turned to leave.

He understood that they wouldn't stay forever, but that didn't quell his disappointment.

Suddenly a chill ran down his spine as he spied something rising above the large forest.

Smoke.

—-

The foreign pirates were swiftly overwhelming the village's meagre defences. George stood at the front lines of the fighting, his fury unmatched as his spear cut down another man with a swift slash. 

A large fire was burning away at one of the recently built houses, the heating blasting from the building making them sweat. 

The men he had trained were quickly being pushed back, their desperate cries of panic filling the air. 

"Men, to me!" He bellowed, his voice filled with determination as his spear, a deadly blur sliced down another slaver.

He narrowly dodged a scimitars slash, quickly getting his revenge as he thrust his spear deep into the attackers gut. He tore it free with a feral roar before taking a few steps back. 

He watched the remaining 20 pirates eye the quickly retreating women and children. George stood resolute, he would lay down his life for those people, his people.

His men, though less skilled, held their weapons in a white-knuckled grip, their faces set in a stony mask of determination. 

The previous pirate attacks had just been scouts that burned their wheat fields and took the vulnerable before leaving. 

These pirates weren't scouts, they were here to kill every man in this village and sell off the rest to slavery. 

One of the pirates, a turban wrapped loosely around his head, barked orders in a language George didn't understand, gesturing menacingly towards him. 

The pirates seemed ready to charge once again as George tensed and prepared for a final stand. But suddenly Aerion was there, George's wide eyes focused on the man who was standing behind the approaching slavers. 

His spear was held loosely in his hand, annoyance etched onto his face. 

George had thought he knew heat, he had felt it in the burning wheat fields as he fled desperately from the cracking flame. 

But as a inferno erupted suddenly he realised he knew nothing about fire.

The flames roared with the ferocity of a dragon, scorching the air and blistering his skin. He and his men scrambled backwards, the heat unbearable. 

The flame was darker than any other fire George had ever seen, it's flame a dark red as it cracked and snapped outwards. 

The slavers fell to their knees as they were submerged in the element. Their desperate cries were barely heard over the flame as they scratched at their melting skin.

Aerion stood in the centre of it all, his angelic platinum hair a stark contrast to the blazing hellfire surrounding him. George barely heard the slavers scream to their foreign God over the roaring. 

As George looked back at Aerion, he came to a swift realisation. While the slavers foreign God hadn't saved them.

His God had saved him. 

—-

He had spent several more months on Earth, after the attack people were obsessed with him. Parents trying to push their concerningly young daughters onto him, something he always discouraged.

Some called him a demon whereas others defended him against any form of criticism with a concerning amount of loyalty. 

Most however seemed grateful, if not a bit attached. 

He looked down at the budding village with an expression of thought on his face while standing on the ramparts of the small castle. 

In the few months he'd been here the village was already further expanding, the damages caused by the pirates were quickly repaired. The deaths of the young men were mourned and a memorial placed at the centre of the village.

The memorial was a stone carving of one of his spears planted in the ground; it turns out a lot of the current residents were quite skilled workers. 

A budding young stone mason had carved the stone monument, once finished Aerion had quickly enchanted the stone monument with a few protective charms.

One was a simply strengthening enchantment that made the monument sturdier, and a few simple perseverance enchantments.

He wanted this statue to last.

It was a sign of him, he wanted to build a legend. He didn't want to only tell his brother his stories of fighting dragons anymore, he wanted the whole universe to know of him, his strength. 

He wanted to be known throughout the universe as a force not to be reckoned with, and as Aerion looked down at the monument he could see from the tower of the castle.

He knew this was his first step into becoming a legend throughout the cosmos.

—-

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