Region 32...
Sarver City…
Days followed just after surviving the treacherous wastelands—and casually slaying a Kraken the size of a bad real estate investment—Josh Aratat and his generals finally arrived at Sarver City.
If cities had personalities, Sarver would be that introverted uncle at the family gathering who only speaks in grunts and disappears before dessert. It was painfully quiet, almost allergic to visitors.
The main reason? The wastelands. Most travellers avoided them like plague-ridden tax collectors. The Kraken was a scary nightmare which no one would want to confront, plus, once you enter the wastelands, chances are, you would never leave.
The only alternative route took three months… on a good day… with divine favour and two camels that didn't hate each other.
Population? 146 souls—if you counted the goats twice and the mayor's pet beetle named Francis.
As Josh rode in, his black cloak flapping like a movie trailer trying to be mysterious, he saw them—three children playacting in the dusty courtyard. They seemed to be having so much fun.
One wore a ragged coat flapping in the breeze like a heroic potato sack, a mask that looked like it was once a sock, and held a crooked stick like it was Excalibur forged from a divine tree branch.
"I am the Black Dragon!" the boy declared dramatically, striking a pose that could only be taught by watching too many old kung-fu films on mute. "I shall banish evil and bring good to the land!"
Another boy—stern-faced and solemn, as serious as a squirrel on tax day—had a wooden crown stuck to his scalp with leaves and spit. "I am Emperor Groa," he boomed in a voice cracking with puberty's confusion. "Bow to me or I'll cancel your birthday!"
Josh and his generals slowed their horses to a near stop, watching the scene unfold with amused eyes and suspiciously entertained smirks. This was a good relaxing scene, which extricates them from the constant war theme they've been exposed to so often.
The 'Black Dragon' leapt forward, stick in hand, and bonked the 'Emperor' gently on the head. "Die, you evil tyrant! My people shall no longer suffer!" he declared, dramatically shielding his little sister behind him like she was the last pancake on Earth.
It was all fun and games… until everyone else disappeared.
Josh blinked as he noticed; The once mildly populated street was now as empty as a politician's promises. Doors slammed, windows shut, chickens performed tactical retreats. Something was wrong.
Just then, the children's mother emerged from a small shop, panic etched across her face like it had been carved by fear itself.
"Ramiel! Eupod! Bring your sister inside—quickly! The evil mages are coming!"
She barely got the words out when they arrived—figures in mismatched robes that looked like laundry-day disasters. They wore crude masks that might've been scary… if they weren't so oddly shaped like burnt pancakes.
They descended on the children like they were harvesting broccoli. One of them backhanded the mother so hard she tumbled to the ground like a fallen waste-bin rolling around in the dirt, arms flopping.
Josh was seething with rage at the sight of the intruders. But instead of acting himself, he chose restraint—this time, he would let his generals handle it. He wanted them captured, not slain. He needed answers. What force gave these fools the audacity to oppress innocents so brazenly? To kidnap without fear or consequence? Josh intended to find out—personally.
With a slight nod, he signaled to Lola, Ralia Amia, and Conrad Stan. Their eyes sharpened. The real play was about to begin.
They intercepted the masked mages, who had already hoisted the screaming children onto their shoulders like some deranged carnival prize.
One robed man sneered as he saw the trio coming at him and his colleagues. "Who dares interfere?!"
Another chimed in, straightening his robe like he was about to deliver a TED Talk in Hell. "We act on the command of the Golden Toad God, Xerm! These children are needed… for a sacred potion."
Even silence winced at how wrong that sounded.
"You WHAT?!" Ralia Amia growled, her eyes flaring like twin suns having a tantrum. She had younger siblings whom she cared so much about. Seeing children their age being treated so badly made something within her stir. This was personal. Her breath came in slow, controlled gusts, but the fire behind her gaze screamed war.
Conrad Stan and Lola knew that look. They wisely stepped back.
The air twisted.
The robed men froze, eyes wide, as Ralia's power surged. Their minds were dragged to their most traumatic memories—now remixed, enhanced, and looped like a nightmare with a sadistic director. They were drowning in terror, begging for release, their screams muffled by a force that didn't need words to hurt.
And then—collapse.
They dropped like empty sacks, children falling with them. The kids scrambled away, running back to their unconscious mother.
They stared at Josh—his mask unfamiliar, but his aura impossible to mistake. The boy Ramiel tilted his head. Suspicion danced in his eyes, but so did wonder.
Josh stepped down from his horse, the ground bending slightly beneath him as if welcoming royalty. From the folds of his coat, he pulled a glowing vial and knelt beside the boy.
"Drink this. Heal your brother. Wake your mother. Share a little if you must… but not too much. It tastes like minty socks."
He offered it forward.
Ramiel eyed the potion. Then eyed Josh.
"I am the Black Dragon," Josh said solemnly, the very words sounded heroic and with it came a force that succeeded more in making the children to tremble from goosebumps that filled every aspect of their exposed skin.
Ramiel narrowed his eyes.
"Then… where's your kingly staff?"
Josh smirked. With a subtle gesture, a magnificent staff materialized from thin air, its golden metal gleaming and humming with energy like an ancient relic with too much caffeine.
Ramiel's jaw dropped like he'd just seen Santa in boxers. "Huuuuuh…" he gasped with reverence. "The Black Dragon… in the flesh."
He tugged at Eupod's shirt frantically. "Are you seeing this? Bro, this is HIM! This is the guy!"
Eupod nodded with such exaggerated enthusiasm, it looked like he might vibrate into another dimension.
Josh stood, his cloak fluttering behind him like it had its own ego. In the distance, birds flew out of hiding. The wind shifted. Somewhere, the Kraken's ghost probably applauded quietly.