Saland emerged laboriously from the narrow opening, his body still numb from the darkness. But then, a sensation never before experienced washed over him: the warmth of the sun on his scaly skin. A pure, intoxicating pleasure coursed through him from head to tail, a completely new experience for a being born in the shadows.
With an almost reverent slowness, Saland moved, descending the rocky slope of the mountain. The sight of the human village, nestled in the valley below, made him hesitate. A primal instinct, a kind of sixth sense honed in the darkness, whispered to him to stay away from that anthill of unknown creatures.
He followed the dusty path that snaked through the fields, letting the road guide him. Soon, he heard voices. Two burly figures, dressed in leather and heavy fabrics, sat by the roadside, their provisions scattered beside them. Merchants, probably. Saland moved with the stealth of a predator, using the shadows of the trees to approach unnoticed.
As their chatter reached him, his hand slipped silently into his pouch, deftly extracting a black hooded jacket, carelessly abandoned by one of the two. A small theft, necessary to blend into this world of light.
The merchants' words captured his attention. They spoke of a distant kingdom, a place shrouded in mystery called the Abyss Lands. A name that evoked darkness and magic. Apparently, it was a refuge, a prison for all magical creatures, ruled by a powerful and sinister entity: a demon.
The information gathered was sufficient. A new goal took shape in Saland's mind. The Abyss Lands. A place where perhaps he would find answers, or perhaps only more mysteries. He followed the rudimentary signs, faded placards and barely visible engravings, that dotted the roadside, guiding him towards his unknown destiny.
The border between Amalor and the Abyss Lands materialized as an invisible line in the air, but its presence was unmistakable. And guarding that border, as still as a stone statue, stood an imposing man. Tall, with a long brown beard and hair that framed a stern face. He was alone, but his posture emanated an aura of unwavering determination.
Saland pulled the black hood tighter, hoping to pass unnoticed. But his attempt at camouflage was in vain.
"Do you really think I didn't understand what you are, monster?" the man thundered, his voice deep and full of contempt. "I don't know what you're doing in the human kingdom, but I won't let you pass."
With a lightning-fast gesture, the man drew a gleaming sword, stepping into a fighting stance. Saland, with a resigned sigh, took off his hood. His hand moved quickly to his side, drawing from his pouch the weapon he had carried with him: Mountain Cleaver.
"Haha," the man laughed, a harsh and mocking sound. "Do you think you can beat me with that subspecies of a sword? I hate serpentines and will have no mercy on you. But first, I'll tell you my name, so you know who killed you. My name is Kento, and I am a hunter of magical creatures."
"My name is Saland," the latter replied, his voice surprisingly calm despite the tension of the moment. "I have nothing against your kind, but you are an obstacle to my goal. I'm sorry, but I won't have mercy either."
The two stared into each other's eyes, studying each other like predators before the attack. Kento was the first to move, delivering a swift and powerful slash. Saland threw himself to the side, dodging the blow by a hair's breadth. He in turn tried to hit Kento with Mountain Cleaver, but the man proved agile and reactive, avoiding the attack.
The battle had begun. Saland darted forward, exploiting his speed, and managed to graze Kento's side. A cry of pain broke the silence, but Kento's reaction was immediate and brutal. A powerful punch landed on Saland's chest, throwing him backward.
The blow was violent, but Saland's resistant scales softened the impact. He got up quickly, anger beginning to coil within him. He lunged at Kento again, their blades clashing with a metallic clang.
To his surprise, Kento's sword broke, the blade snapping clean under the force of Mountain Cleaver's blow.
"Hahahah!" Kento burst into a loud laugh, which did not denote fear, but something else, something more unsettling. "I didn't think you'd be able to hurt me and break my sword. But I have an ace in the hole."
A powerful aura emanated from his body, manifesting as countless red streaks that enveloped him, pulsing with energy. Even his broken sword reassembled itself, the two parts joining as if nothing had happened, now pervaded and enhanced by those mysterious streaks.
"This power you see is my innate ability," Kento explained with a sinister smile. "It's called Divine Streak. As you can see, it covers my whole body. These streaks allow me to take less damage and increase both my speed and strength."
Having said this, Kento lunged at the attack. Saland parried the blow, their swords clashing again. Kento was faster, his attacks followed one another at a relentless pace. But Saland, thanks to his scales, managed to withstand the damage without too much trouble.
He noticed, however, a disturbing detail. Every time their blades crossed, Kento's would crack for an instant, only to repair itself immediately thanks to the Divine Streak. It was like fighting against a weapon that could not be destroyed.
Suddenly, Kento darted forward with such speed that Saland couldn't even follow the movement. A punch struck him squarely in the face, throwing him to the ground, the acrid taste of blood filling his mouth.
Kento looked down at him, his face serious and grim. "You should be the last serpentine alive on this continent. Fate has willed that we meet, and now, before I kill you, I will tell you why I hate your kind so much. When the serpentines were the dominant species on these lands, my wife Mey and my daughter Lilia lived on a mountain west of Amalor. It was just us there, no one else. I worked as a shepherd, taking my sheep to graze in the valleys, and thanks to their meat, we lived well. But one day the serpentines discovered our happy refuge and sent ten serpentine soldiers to kill us. I, like every morning, had gone to take the flock to graze, and my wife and daughter were at home. I would never have imagined what I would see upon my return. I returned home late at night and from afar I saw flames, and I started running desperately until I reached my burning house. But the worst thing was that they had decapitated their heads and put them on stakes, and they had taken their bodies away. A lot of blood dripped from those two stakes. I collapsed to the ground screaming and crying, took my axe, and chased after the serpentines who had killed my wife and daughter, but I was beaten bloody and enslaved. I did all the worst jobs I could never have imagined, and they treated me like an animal. But when Wakawa saved us, everything changed, and now thanks to his teachings I have these powers."
Saland got up with difficulty, his body aching and his mind confused. He didn't know his history, nor that of his ancestors. He didn't know if the atrocities Kento spoke of were true, or simply lies fueled by hatred. But one thing was clear: that man was in his way, and he was his enemy.
He felt a new energy flow within him, a primal force awakening. He stood in a fighting stance again, his gaze fixed on Kento.
The man also prepared for the final blow. Both darted forward with incredible speed, meeting halfway and passing each other in a fraction of a second.
"I really underestimated you," Kento whispered, surprise etched on his face.
Then, a copious amount of blood gushed from his side, staining the grass a deep red. Kento staggered, his eyes wide with disbelief, and collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness.
Saland remained still for a moment, his breath ragged. Then, with a slow gesture, he put Mountain Cleaver back in his pouch and resumed his journey towards the Abyss Lands, leaving behind the inert body of his enemy. His journey had just begun.