“What’s done is done I’m afraid,” Grim said as it leaned back into its armchair, “Negotiations between Druvia and Sinbeni will fall apart, the Sinbens wanting to take what land remains unclaimed from the demons. This war is far from over, and the demons are far from done too. You understand this, don’t you Erikathyr?” The god of death asked, “Remember, drake. Remember what Azruxan is.”
“Azruxan is a Devil, one of the three Kings of hell. If you can even call that pitiful barbarian a king.” Erikathyr responded with a sneer.
“Indeed, Azruxan cared not for lands on the mortal plain. He instead wanted to turn Druvia into a spawning pool, where he would drain the life energy of that world and create himself an even more massive army.” Grim explained, “Azruxan is one of three kings, one of three brothers. And he was the lesser Devil of the three, Hell being separated between his brothers Xokith and Kurzan. The ones in true power.”
“Azruxan was building an army but not to take over the mortal plane? Why else then? To fight his brothers for Hell’s territories?” Erikathyr asked, unable to follow.
“No, no Azruxan would’ve not stood a chance against his elder brothers.” Grim chuckled coldly, “Azruxan was building an army to add onto Xokith and Kurzan’s. The three Devil Kings were plotting something, by my guess they are planning to invade the afterlife.”
“Invade the afterlife?! Is that even possible?” Erikathyr asked in surprise.
“Back onto the topic at hand, Azruxan is no more. And you, have failed to learn the important lesson I wished to teach you.” Grim set the seemingly astronomically important topic aside to return to the original issue, “This means that one if not both of the Devil Kings, will seek vengeance for their fallen brother. They will turn their eyes onto the mortal plain, not for resources, but this time for absolute conquest.”
“Then…what now?” Erikathyr asked, now seeing the problem.
“Simple, you’re going back.” Grim answered, “But this time, I’m going to introduce you to a new way of learning. It’s called listening, so for once in your bloody existence…Listen.” Grim said pointedly. “Humans, elves, dwarves, halfbeasts and all the other sorts, these young races need guidance. The mortal realm needs Dragons to guide it, and I cannot afford to invest more energy into rebirthing others. You were the youngest of your generation, the one who’s lived the least and therefore the easiest to revive. Even now.”
Grim raised its right bony hand towards the drake, “I cannot revive you indefinitely, your vessel will age each time I do. And it will age considerably more the next time, as I will be reviving you within the same age and hopefully year you just came from. This time it will only be a five year aging on your vessel, the next? I cannot tell yet.”
“I’m…going back into that…body?” Erikathyr asked, withholding a grimace.
“Yes, because reviving you within a Dragon’s…even a Drake’s body would mean more power than I currently wish to produce. My energy has better uses than your…pride. So this time around, try not to die? However difficult that might be for you.” Grim said sarcastically, “Erikathyr, you who the Fae call guardian of nature, you who the Xilfir call master. You who the rest call destroyer. I pronounce you, Watcher of the mortal plain.”
“Watcher?” The drake repeated in question.
“You are to watch over that realm, you are to defend it from Hell’s spawn. But you are not to meddle with its other affairs. Gain champions, teach them about your ways with nature and they will, in turn, teach you about how to…socialize with other races.” Grim said the last sentence with amusement, “The young races have had difficulty dealing with each other but you Dragons…You’ve always been that special case. You’d not even try to interact with the other children, you sit in your corner moping about how the others break the playground.”
“Are you mocking me?” Erikathyr growled.
Grim chuckled in response, thinking the drake’s annoyance as adorable as a huffing child. “You will learn, Erikathyr. As your elders learned that the younger races are required for the mortal plain, you will learn more than they ever dreamed of.”
The drake huffed, “That does sound…intriguing.”
“Good, I see I’ve caught your interest. Then go, and this time little Dragon,” Grim said as it waved its hand across the drake, “do not let us down.”
The drake’s form dissipated from Grim’s hall, the god of death now sitting alone once more.
“I still do not comprehend why you’d choose…that one.” Said a distorted voice from Grim’s left.
“I would’ve personally chosen his mother instead, a true Dragon that one.” Said another, growling voice.
“Because, Artemis, that one is still young and much more open-minded. And also, Fenrir, are you going to watch over the infinity of souls I’d be leaving without a lantern, to summon up that creature back to life?” Grim responded to the disembodied voices, “No, we’ll continue to observe. If, he does fail again…We’ll have no choice but to alter Fate ourselves for a second time this existence.”
“Then,” spoke a melodic feminine voice, “Let us hope this young drake succeeds. As I do not look forward to fighting twelve more Devil Kings a third time.”
“Indeed, Nu Wa, that is something neither I nor my horsemen wish to go through again.” Grim said in sheepish agreement, “The Arch Devil must never come to fruition ever again.” as the hall of shadows around it dimmed down into absolute darkness.
