A Sacred human.
It was a level that no one has reached in his world. Even the number of supremes could be counted on one hand.
But, there was one thing about a Sacred that he didn't like. They felt utterly disgusting to him for some reason, and this was probably because of their closeness to divinity.
'Just when will she tell us to stand? It's so tiring to bow like this.' These were his internal thoughts.
The sacred then spoke.
"Please, raise your heads, although you all are healed within my innate domain, you all are still probably feeling tired." Her melodic voice echoed in their minds.
One by one, they all stood up.
Wren turned his attention towards the dragon, which was yawning with its wide maw. The noble creature didn't really care about the Sacred.
Its pride as a noble creature seem to have shrug off the words of a sacred, even though it was being ridden like a pony a few moments ago.
Wren turned his attention towards the sacred, only to find her looking at him. The cold grey eyes peered deeply into him; feeling strange, he averted his gaze from her.
Only to find his eyes looking at those grey eyes again, this time, however, she was standing face-to-face with him.
"You are quite peculiar. For the first time, I have seen a being like you who doesn't seem to feel compelled to bow before me." She stared at his eyes before she turned around and walked towards the dragon.
The dragon sensed her approaching and slowly opened its eyelids, revealing the crimson eyes hidden beneath.
Its slit pupils constricted as it watched the figure closing the distance between the two of them. The two of them stared at each other, and then the dragon snorted before nodding for no particular reason.
Wren stared at the Sacred for a few moments before a sound resounded in his mind.
[The fourth elite cohort will be coming with me. Go to the Raven fortress as decided, and deliver the materials. This little one will also be coming with you. The blessing of the Sun is with you.]
Just as he heard those words, all the awakened ones turned into motes of light along with the sacred before the space around them distorted, and they all disappeared.
Wren stared at the air for a few moments before he let out a sigh.
The disgusting, revolting, vile and ugly presence wasn't here anymore. He felt relief. His eyes turned towards the black dragon, and he walked towards it.
"The two of us seem to be stuck together, don't you think?" He said as his steps reached closer and closer to the dragon.
His voice was enthusiastic and polite; however, it contrasted with the dragon's reaction. The noble beast growled before spewing some of its black flames at him.
Wren immediately backed off; however, sparks of the black flames reached him. What followed was agonising heat, or so he thought.
The black flames burned, sparing his skin but not his armour. The flames left nothing on his upper body.
"You waste of space, bloody overgrown lizard. You should have just stayed in the mind hex, or whatever made you a docile pony." He screamed in anger.
The dragon showed him a toothy grin, which made Wren more furious.
A multitude of sparks collected in his hand, shaping themselves into a scythe with a long, curved blade. The grip was made from a material that resembled blackened glass and felt cold to the touch. A dark chain made from onyx was attached to its end and swirled around it like a snake.
The curved blade was razor-sharp; its charred appearance devoured the light around it, and the cold orb at its centre seemed to be swirling in violet light.
Though it was a sad thing that he couldn't use the memory's abilities, it was sturdy enough to harm that lizard of a noble beast.
The dragon seemed to have realised Wren's intent and rose in the air with the help of its wings.
***
"I knew it. You were suitable for a pony, now, don't be a bad child and forget what had happened before." Wren said as he felt the wind graze past him.
The heat of the day had made his skin almost burn, if not for the cloak he had found in one of the supplies.
They were currently heading towards the Raven Fortress, which he didn't know a thing about, but it was one of the camps for the Divine Legion.
He looked at the bruises and scars formed on his skin; the result of their fight was nothing but devastating, for his body that is.
The bones in his arm were basically broken because of the force he had blocked from the whip of the dragon's tail.
He didn't understand what made the dragon suddenly give up fighting, but it seemed to him that the dragon feared him.
Wren grinned.
'Heh, foolish overgrown lizard.' He thought as he lay down on the noble beast's back, pain seared in his mind, but the sweetness of victory had him not mind it.
While resting, he finally had the time to think about something. It was about the mysterious God who had helped him.
Abyss God.
Was he a god hidden from the history of the dream realm? The gods were dead, but one of them was still alive somehow.
It didn't seem possible for the Spell to recreate the Gods, meaning the one who was looking at him was indeed alive and existed outside the nightmare.
Secondly, this war. It was the war between Daemons and the Gods, but why? Why were they at war?
Daemons were the only beings said to be closely similar to the Gods, and they were in fact related, according to Wren, as he believed their source of origin was also the same or was very close to each other's.
In conclusion, his luck was shitty.
Very shitty, to be honest.
Wren closed his eyes.
'This nightmare isn't going to end very soon.' He thought, before falling asleep under the "protection" of the dragon.
—IN THE NEXT CHAPTER—
He entered the room, as he was instructed to do.
The General's chamber was strikingly spacious—an illusion that belied the compact exterior of the fortress. It seemed the work of sorcery to him, and it was indeed fascinating to him.
He could see large stone shelves filled with scrolls, books, and various other items containing information. There was also a large round table, and various items were placed on top of it.
"You seem fascinated by my room," a voice whispered beside him. Wren jumped in surprise, instinctively drawing back, his heartbeat quickening as his senses heightened. His gaze darted to the source of the voice, landing on a mysterious figure who had materialised almost out of thin air.
The sharpness in the voice reminded him of a particular someone.
The woman stood with an ethereal grace, her jet-black hair cascading like a starless void, framing her face with an almost otherworldly quality.
Her slender figure was cloaked in a black robe that clung tightly to her form, suggesting both elegance and power. As she turned to reveal her full presence, the flickering shadows seemed to dance violently around her, enhancing the enigmatic aura that surrounded her.
"It seems my presence surprised you. However, your response wasn't lackluster either," she said, her tone dripping with amusement. "Quite refined movements for someone like you, I would say." Her words lingered in the air as she studied him with an inscrutable expression.
Wren felt a strange chill trace its way down his spine, not solely from the sensation of her gaze but also from the striking resemblance she bore to someone he knew all too well. The intensity of her vermillion eyes sparkled with an unsettling glee.
"I am Transcendent Melina, the Blade of the North. You may call me the General of the Raven Fortress, though it is entirely upon your tastes," she continued, her voice smooth yet commanding. "May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of the elusive King of the Broken World?"
In this moment, through a veil of astonishment and disbelief, a single name echoed in his mind:
'Morgan.'
This woman was strikingly similar in features and demeanour to the princess of Valor.