Episode 51: Drums Of Declaration

Fheniz's body trembled as if his very essence was unraveling. His hands clutched his forehead, pressing against the unbearable weight of his thoughts. He was seated on a weathered chair near the heavy door that led out of the Hall of the Gate of Ehayor. The ancient hall, dimly lit and echoing with the silent history of countless tales, seemed to close in on him, magnifying the turmoil within. Griswa, Yesdar, and Malaes had managed to bring him back from the ward, where he had been spiraling further into his despair, but calming him was another battle entirely.

As his trembling gaze wandered, it fell upon Orngea, who hovered eerily in the corner. The entity's cloak billowed gently, as if in mockery of the storm brewing within Fheniz. The sight of him, this intruder who had once been a harbinger of doom, stirred something in Fheniz—a mixture of anger, exhaustion, and dark amusement. His voice, though shaky, cut through the silence with a biting edge. "I forgot to notice you, from how long are you here? I am too weak right now, so won't you try to kill me?"

Orngea floated in his usual manner, his presence almost humorous in its contrast to the tense atmosphere. He let out a soft, whispering response, his tone laden with an odd mix of self-pity and detachment. "Umm, I usually go unnoticed because there's no value in my existence, but that's alright, I am used to it. I am here to talk, but I haven't been able to because of your backstory that felt more like an eternity."

A sharp laugh escaped Fheniz, though it was more bitter than amused. "Talk what? You gonna blabber some bullshit that you always blabber before starting your wars? I am quite sick of it and I don't need that anymore, so if you aren't here to kill me, can I kill you?" The words were laced with a blend of sarcasm and genuine malice, the kind that hinted at the true depths of his pain. It was the sort of statement that teetered on the edge of humor and brutality, a dangerous mix that only someone who had seen and lost as much as Fheniz could muster.

Malaes, sensing the rising tension and the dangerous edge to Fheniz's tone, quickly stepped in. Her voice was gentle but firm, carrying a soothing quality that she hoped would calm the storm raging within Fheniz. "Sorry, none are in their right mind right now. Though he might get serious about killing you." She offered him a cup of tea, the warm liquid a far cry from the druggy Ophoen he craved.

Fheniz stared into the cup, his expression one of utter disgust. The tea, made from the extract of a simple plant native to Ehayor, was meant to soothe his nerves, but it was a poor substitute for the relief he sought. He took a tentative sip and winced, his face twisting in revulsion. "Never liked this," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"Take it for now," Malaes insisted, her tone firm but kind. "You were the one who asked me to bring this, so that you can calm down."

"I KNOW! BUT THAT DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT THAT IT'S TASTELESS AND DISGUSTING," Fheniz retorted, his voice rising in frustration. The exchange, while tinged with humor, was underscored by the heavy tension in the room.

"Just finish this! And you can continue with your backstory," Malaes urged, hoping to steer him back to a more stable state.

Fheniz took another reluctant sip before setting the cup down with a sigh. "That's the end of it."

Malaes blinked, surprised by his sudden statement. 

Yesdar, who had been listening intently, leaned forward, eager to hear more saying, "That's the end of it? What about your life in Ehayor then?" despite the heavy sadness he felt for the loss of Burohagikun, Mr. Palket, and all the people of Gerwanis, he couldn't help but be drawn into Fheniz's tale. Griswa, on the other hand, sat far back, as if he didn't want to be near Fheniz right now.

Fheniz's expression hardened, the bitterness in his voice unmistakable. "You asked me why I don't consider Aeartha as my world anymore. Now I have told you everything. Last time, I only gave you a brief history; this time, I gave you a thorough detail of each event. What I have done in Ehayor has made me what you see today. Just meeting Master Ehayor and training and stuff, nothing that much. I'll save the rest for some other day when we have time for chit-chat with a stupid bonfire."

Yesdar glanced at Fheniz, noting the sharpness in his tone. It was clear that pressing him any further would only worsen his mood. The weight of Fheniz's bitterness hung in the air like a thick fog, stifling any attempt at light conversation. Yesdar's expressions reflected a silent decision: it was better not to mess with Fheniz right now.

Desperate to shift the focus away from Fheniz's pain, Yesdar pointed towards Orngea, his voice filled with urgency. "Umm... I think we should come to the point now. About what this guy is doing here?! Why is he back?! Isn't that concerning? Fheniz?"

Fheniz, sensing the opportunity to divert attention from his own suffering, was quick to latch onto the change in topic. He didn't want their pity; he didn't want their cringey sympathies. If anything, he wanted to bury his pain under layers of anger and focus on the more immediate threat—or what could be a threat—standing right before them.

"Of course."

Malaes, understanding Fheniz's need for distraction, quickly responded. "Well, he had come to talk about something. We didn't fully understand, but he wanted to talk about Griswa and himself. He says he isn't our enemy anymore. He was following someone's orders."

Fheniz's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he turned to Orngea. "And do you believe him?"

"Not much," Yesdar admitted, his voice tinged with skepticism. "But he wouldn't have come here after a terrible loss just to get killed by us like a fool."

Orngea, hearing this, couldn't help but feel a pang of humiliation. He had indeed said as much to them earlier, but the lack of respect in Yesdar's words was like an arrow straight to his heart. The feeling of being disregarded was something he was all too familiar with, but that didn't make it any less painful—or any less funny, considering the absurdity of the situation. 🤣🤣

Orngea remained silent, not bothering to respond. The blow to his pride was clear, and it left him feeling funnily inferior, a pitiful figure floating in the corner of the room, his purpose and dignity both in question. 🤣🤣

Griswa, who had been sitting quietly in the back, felt the weight of his guilt pressing down on him even harder. He watched Fheniz, understanding all too well why he was so-so-so frustrated. Fheniz had no family from the beginning, and he had never known his own origin. Then, when he finally found something resembling a family in Burohagikun and Mr. Palket, they were taken from him. When he made a deep bond with Master Ehayor, he died too—because of Griswa.

The guilt munched at Griswa like a relentless parasite. Even with all the power he possessed as a god, he felt utterly helpless. The enormity of his actions, the weight of his unintentional sin, was more than he could bear. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to push away the suffocating feelings of frustration, sorrow, and guilt that threatened to consume him. In a moment of self-loathing, he slapped his own head, the sting of the impact a poor substitute for the punishment he felt he deserved.

"What have I done? What have I..."

When Fheniz had initially shared his brief backstory with Griswa, Yesdar, and Malaes, he had omitted the parts about Burohagikun, Mr. Palket, and his unknown parents. That omission had left them unaware of the full depth of his pain, of why he no longer considered Aeartha his world. It hadn't made sense to them then why he seemed so detached, so ready to abandon a place that would always be his home in the end. But now, in the cold light of his full story, they finally understood. Fheniz didn't just 'hate' Aeartha because of its neglect and the kingdoms that had failed to rebel against the Yahunyen Empire. He didn't just 'hate' the Yahunyens like everyone. He had cut ties with that world completely, severed the last thread of connection to the place of his birth. To him, it wasn't even his world anymore where he would finally return someday.

Fheniz noticed Griswa, sitting alone in the back, his head hanging low, his expression a portrait of guilt and self-hate. For a moment, something softened in Fheniz's heart. He felt bad for Griswa—truly, deeply bad. He could see that the young god was struggling with his own demons, that he was hurting just as much, if not more. But that sympathy was buried under layers of his own unresolved pain, and he knew he couldn't, wouldn't forgive him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Their shared trust like a diamond was now shattered like a glass as if there were no real differences from the very first itself.

The hall, once filled with echoes of anger and accusations, now fell into a heavy, oppressive silence. It was the kind of silence that bore down on the soul, leaving no room for anything but the stark reality of their shared suffering.

"Yes, I guess... we should... yeah umm… Fheniz I am terribly sorry for whatever…." Malaes began, her voice gentle but filled with the weight of everything they had just heard. But Fheniz cut her off abruptly, his tone sharp and tinged with bitterness. "Yes, thank you very-very much Malaes, you are very sweet, but I didn't say my story to get sympathies, so please let's see what Orngea has come to say."

Malaes felt a sharp pang, like an arrow to the heart, at Fheniz's bluntness. The way he dismissed her words was almost comical in its rudeness, a bitter reminder that the good times had always been fleeting, if they existed at all? 🤣🤣🤣

Fheniz continued, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the floating figure of Orngea. "More like I am interested in what he has come to say. Why would he walk… sorry, float back here to simply talk to us, saying he isn't our enemy anymore? The way I see it, I assume it, feel it, understand it, predict it, and conclude it: enemies who claim they aren't enemies anymore usually form an alliance just to use you. Then, when the time comes, they abandon you in an inescapable predicament and run away… SORRY! FLOAT AWAY! Am I wrong?!"

His words hung in the air like a sharp blade, slicing through the tense silence. The others exchanged uneasy glances, knowing Fheniz's words were as brutal as they were true. A silence followed, laden with an awkwardness that was almost palpable.

"Fheniz you need to..." Malaes began once again, but she was cut off by Fheniz's words, "NO, I WON'T REST. HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO GET SOME SLEEP AFTER THIS ENERGETIC AWFUL TEA YOU MADE FOR ME? HUH KID?!! YOU CALL THIS TEA??!!"

Malaes felt another sharp pang, another terrible arrow to the heart, and this time it was way severe, yet comical, lol. 🤣🤣🤣

"Whose orders were you following and for what? Be clear and fast," Fheniz demanded, his voice carrying the same biting edge.

Orngea, still floating with his cloak billowing around him, began to speak, his voice a low, whispering echo that seemed to come from the shadows themselves. "I'll start from the beginning, but I'll be fast and brief, and to the point for now. I come from the Yunibious race of the planet of Speldanar, a planet that existed many billions of years ago. It was attacked by one of the Subordinate Gods or whom we call The Great Gods of Brighter Dark."

At the mention of Brighter Dark, everyone's interest piqued. The name held a weight of its own, a darkness that seemed to touch everything in the universe. Orngea continued, his voice steady but filled with the gravity of what he was about to reveal. "Lord Thylme attacked it, maybe it was on orders of Brighter Dark, who knows? Or maybe it was his own desire to destroy our inferior race, as his only ideology says that only gods or whatever are left of them should exist in the omniverse and beyond. There is no need for our existence. When he attacked our small world, he wanted to test who would survive the apocalypse. The people who'd survive would become his slave-children, that's what he told me after I had survived."

Orngea's voice grew darker, each word laced with bitterness and an ancient pain. "I was one among the survivors, I had survived with some more people of my race using the special cube seals I made. These seals were what interested Thylme in our race. He wanted some to survive, and those who did would obviously be the ones with the strongest seals. Thylme gave us a little of his energy or blood, whatever it was, that made us practically immortal but not non-killable. We can live until someone kills us."

The room fell into a deeper silence as the gravity of Orngea's story weighed heavily on everyone present. They understood the depth of the tragedy, the cruel fate that had befallen Orngea's race. But the story wasn't over yet.

Orngea continued, his voice unwavering. "The reason why I attacked the planet of Ehayor three times is because Ehayor is a refugee planet. Any race that faces extinction when their worlds are destroyed by alien forces, the surviving people seek out these planets in the universe to start a new life. There are many other refugee planets like Ehayor, and due to advanced technologies that connect the universes, people are aware of such planets. They keep the knowledge, governments and orders first. Now, as Lord Thylme wants the inferior races to die, the escapees who flee their doomed home planets to seek refuge on planets like this one, are meant to be destroyed by his orders. If there are no refugee planets left, it'd be useless to escape their destroyed home planets, and they'll accept their fate."

Fheniz's eyes narrowed as he processed Orngea's words. The story, while tragic, didn't fully explain Orngea's presence here and now. "Okay, so now what? We have failed your mission three times by now. What are you gonna do? I still don't understand your decision or your reason to come here. What do you want from us exactly? To let you destroy this planet so you don't get any punishment from your lord? Forget it."

Orngea shook his head slowly, his cloak rustling softly as he did. "No… what I want is Griswa."

The air in the room grew tense, the atmosphere thickening with sudden unease. Griswa, who hadn't been fully paying attention, suddenly perked up, his eyes widening in surprise. "What do you mean you want him?!" Yesdar shouted, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and anger.

"Shh. Calm down, Yesdar. Let him complete," Fheniz said, his voice a calming force amid the rising tension.

"But… Fheniz," Malaes began, her concern evident, but Fheniz cut her off again. "Continue," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Orngea turned to Griswa, his voice softening as he spoke directly to the young god. "I have never met any other god face-to-face except Thylme. Griswa you're a god, aren't you? And not just a common god—a very powerful god, someone who can break my seal. My seal is what protected me from an apocalypse, and you broke it like it was nothing. So... I have come here with a request." Orngea's voice grew quieter, more somber as he slowly prostrated himself in the air before Griswa. "Lord Griswa, will you… help me… achieve my freedom… that I lost billions of years ago… and execute Thylme?"

A chorus of shocked gasps filled the room. "No way!! That's a ridiculous request!!" Yesdar shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

"Yes! Exactly! You can't use him for such a selfish and dangerous wish! GET OUT!" Malaes added, her voice rising with fury.

But Fheniz, his gaze steady and thoughtful, surprised everyone with his response. "Griswa you're talking about? He is a Skaar God, of course he can help you."

The room fell silent as the weight of Fheniz's words sank in. Malaes and Yesdar's expressions shifted, disbelief and concern mingling on their faces.

"Skaar God? But the Skaar Gods, the entire empire…." Orngea began, but Griswa cut him off sharply.

"The Skaar Gods have fallen… and I am the last one who remains." His voice was calm, but the sadness in his words was unmistakable.

Without another word, Griswa silently walked to the door, his footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. Orngea moved aside, giving him space, and Griswa stood near where Fheniz was sitting.

"Where are you going?" Malaes asked, her voice laced with worry.

"To train," Griswa replied simply, his tone filled with determination.

(The Drums of Declaration Begin)

The room seemed to pulse with the collective heartbeat of those present, the tension palpable. Griswa continued, his voice steady and filled with resolve. "I have never been able to truly help anyone with my powers. All I have caused is destruction and loss of others. But this time I won't… not when someone's requesting. All of your stories say that we have common enemies that have common connections—the Yahunyens, the Great Gods, and Brighter Dark—and our common goal is Freedom! Then simple as that, I won't back down! I'll help you."

Orngea, overwhelmed with gratitude, was about to express his thanks when Griswa spoke again, cutting him off. "But! I have promised my friends that I'll free their world first, from the Yahunyens. And this time, I will set a limit within a limit for my powers. And that's because I'll free their world without even using a complete percent of my powers! I'll teach the Yahunyens in their own language of power and dominance, I'll teach them what true dominance is like!! And I'll do that without destruction!! I'LL DO THAT WITHOUT SIMPLY ELIMINATING THEM!!! And I'll use only that much power that rivals equal to the Yahunyen empire's strongest and not more than that! WHY? BECAUSE THIS ISN'T A STRUGGLE FOR SUPREMACY… SUPREMACY ITSELF IS A STRUGGLE HERE!! AND TO HELL WITH THAT! PEOPLE DON'T NEED THRONES TO SHOWCASE WHAT DOMINANCE THEY HOLD AGAINST THE WORLD AND I'LL PROVE THAT!!"

"But, not using your powers is stupid!!" Yesdar said, his voice a mix of confusion and desperation.

Griswa turned to Yesdar and Malaes, his eyes burning with a newfound resolve. "Yesdar, do you really need a God to free your world?"

"Yes! Because the Yahunyens are too powerful!" Yesdar replied, his voice tinged with fear.

"Then become a God yourself!!" Griswa declared, his words hitting them like a tidal wave. The room seemed to vibrate with the force of his declaration, the truth of it sinking into their hearts.

Yesdar and Malaes were stunned into silence, their eyes wide with the realization of what Griswa was saying. Even Fheniz, who had been simmering in his bitterness, felt a newfound respect for Griswa as he sensed the powerful aura radiating from him.

Griswa's voice softened as he addressed his friends. "IT'S NOT ME WHO'LL FREE YOUR WORLD, IT'S YOU WHO WILL FREE YOUR OWN WORLD. And now, as I remember, that's what Sivera wanted."

Malaes, her eyes teary, asked in a choked and slow voice, "What... do you mean... dad... wanted it?"

"The night you and Sivera had fought, he was awake. I went to him and talked, that's when he told me that he wanted Aeartha's people, particularly the people of Mackenas, to free their own country. THAT WAS HIS DREAM…"

The words struck Malaes like a bolt of lightning, her eyes widening with the realization. This was her purpose, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. Yesdar, too, felt the same sense of purpose coursing through him. And though Fheniz harbored bitterness, he couldn't help but keep feeling a new level of respect for Griswa, sensing the pulsating energy emanating from him.

Griswa turned to Orngea, his voice filled with determination as he declared in style, "AND AFTER WE FREE THAT WORLD..."

"...I'LL KICK YOUR GREAT GOD'S ASS IN SLOW MOTION."

Pronunciations:

Yunibious: [UNI]+[BIAS]

Speldanar: [SPELL]+[DAA]+[NAAR]