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Song of Numen

So, here is the deal. My name is Christian Grey. Maybe, as you read this familiar name, you might have raised an eyebrow and silently accused my dear mother and father of plagiarism, but I swear it wasn't intentional! Alright, alright, maybe just a teeny tiny bit. You see, my dear reader, my mom had a bookcase that could give any library a run for its money. I think she came up with my name from some random character in one of her books or maybe from one of those movies that…let's just say they made themselves at home on our screen more times than I can count. I sincerely don't remember the origin of this name. In fact, as I sit here writing these words, my memory seems to be playing a hide and seek game with me. I can't remember the specifics of my life back on Earth. It's been ages since I have reincarnated in this world! But hey, I can't complain. It was indeed satisfactory. Ops! I have blabbered on too much. I am indeed getting senile; my granddaughter is right. Let's move on. Where did I stop? Right, Right, How did I ended up in this world? Once upon a time, in the sad and depressive corporate life, I was just your average person, working day in and day out, while secretly dreaming of becoming a great author…. Wait! What was that arched eyebrow again, prick? I can practically hear your mind screaming from my side of the universe, "Oh great! Another one of those boring reincarnation stories where the main character is an overpowered, handsome and courageous man!" Blah Blah Blah. Believe me, I get it! *Cought* *Cough* But thank you for the last part, I am indeed overpowered, handsome and courageous. You are such a sweet person. I know that you have already read about it all before in those countless reincarnation novels and animes. It's like a broken record, a recycled and infinite plotline. I won't deny it, my story is indeed quite generic, familiar to some and new to others. But trust me reader, dear reader, I am about to take that well-worn path and maybe give it a little twist that you have seen it coming all along. Right? Oh, right! Just saying that the final chapter of this diary or novel if you might call it, may never reach your hands. I am not dead yet and maybe I will never be. Now, I will leave things here. I wish you a good ride. So, buckle up, grab some popcorn, and expect some crazy vanilla, some predictable and not at all creative stories. This all begins on day one, they day when I accidentally killed the Main Character of my own novel. -x- Yoo! This is a new series that I will be launching sporadically, together with my other work "Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World!". Thank you for the support! Don't forget to drop by to know my other work!

Stoicist · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
15 Chs

Chapter 11 - Vulcan

The view was breathtaking. It felt like I was on top of the world, watching the clouds drift over an endless expanse of land. I could even see the curvature of the earth, and no matter how hard I squinted, I could not see the end. The sight was so mesmerizing that I forgot about the trials, about all the pain and struggles I had faced up to this point. Everything suddenly felt small and distant.

"Beautiful, right?" A male voice spoke beside me, catching me completely off guard. Despite all my training with my father, countless hours spent honing my senses to detect the smallest sounds or movements, I had not noticed anyone approach. I could practically hear a mosquito flying a few feet away, but I had missed this person entirely.

My instincts kicked in, and I jumped back, aiming to create some distance. But as I prepared to land and take a defensive stance, I felt myself falling again. I had not noticed that I was standing on what seemed to be a branch, thick like an actual tree. 

Fortunately, the giant tree I found myself in had countless other branches. I did not fall far, landing on another one below. Twisting mid-air, I managed to land on my feet, immediately assuming a defensive stance, my arms raised to guard my chin like a boxer.

I scanned my surroundings, trying to locate the source of the voice. What greeted me was unbelievable. I was standing on a massive tree, one so large that it pierced through the clouds. Its branches were everywhere, like an entire vertical forest, made of branches as thick as an actual tree.

"Oh, so you inherited some of Victor's talent, but not his temper," the voice spoke again, now behind me. "If you had, you would have attacked me without a second thought. The last kid, what was his name again? Ah, yes, Leon. He had a habit of hitting his chest. Enthusiastic, that one"

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Once again, I had failed to detect this person's presence. Turning quickly, I finally saw the man. His back was turned to me, and his deep red hair reminded me of both my father and myself, the color of blood. He was muscular, much like my father, but even taller than him. His armor appeared to be made of red scales, glinting in the sunlight.

"Yes, Leon!" the man said, a satisfied tone in his voice. "I liked that kid. Reminded me a lot of Victor." He chuckled, the sound thick with nostalgia, as if he longed to return to some forgotten past. 

But I barely registered his words. My guard was still up, ready to strike at any moment. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice laced with caution.

"Me?" The man sounded amused, as if the question had been a joke. "My father named me Vulcan. He said it suited me because of my temper… which, admittedly, was not the best. I have been working on it, though."

The moment he mentioned the name "Vulcan," I froze. I knew that name. Vulcan was the dragon my ancestor, Victor Aestum Dragonheart, had slain. But Vulcan was supposed to be dead. What was a long-dead dragon doing here? Was I dead too?

Then I remembered my father's enigmatic words about saying hello to a "big lizard." Realization dawned on me. My father had met this being before, so this was part of the trial. I was not dead. I exhaled in relief, though my mind raced with questions.

"You do not act on impulse like most of Victor's bloodline I met before," Vulcan observed, turning slightly toward me. "Usually, those with my blood coursing through their veins have the tendency to act first and think later. But I can sense my will and blood within you, stronger than most descendants of Aestum."

His tone was curious, but not interested enough to press further. "Anyway, I do not really care. I am long dead. I am happy to be in the embrace of my dead friend," he said, patting a thick branch beside him.

"My only promise now is to follow Victor's wish." Vulcan finally turned to face me fully, and as his golden, snake-like eyes locked onto mine, I felt an overwhelming pressure. My heart raced with fear. It was like a mountain was pressing down on me, forcing me to my knees. But something inside me refused to submit. I remained standing, though every part of my body screamed at me to kneel.

I realized then that it was my blood, Aestum blood. It would not allow me to bow down, no matter how intense and painful the pressure was. I was stubborn, yes, but the blood running through my veins was even more so.

Vulcan stepped forward, the pressure increasing with each step. He stopped directly in front of me, his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and interest. Despite the crushing weight of his presence, I did not fall. It was inconceivable that a being who looked so young, could exert such a terrifying force.

"You have a strong soul to withstand my presence like this," Vulcan said with a grin. "Perhaps even stronger than Victor's when he was your age."

The moment he smiled, a shiver ran through me. I had seen that smile before. It was the same mischievous, almost sadistic grin my father wore when he was about to push me past my limits in training.

And I knew what that meant.

I was screwed.