Trueborn
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-1 Prologue
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Trueborn
Author :k_k_b
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-1 Prologue

Deep in the heart of a mountain in the ruins of a dimensional world, resided the fading essence of a fallen god. Four symmetrical walls of Palladium rock containing the runic symbols of a dying light, curved to come together far above the essence of the god, where four life crystals were joined together to form a dome. These runic rock and life crystals had been preserving the surviving essence of the fallen god.

Hidden, he had remained. Away from the eyes of the prying gods who could be looking for his total annihilation and from the prowling eyes of the deadly demons.

Ah, the demons!

It was here in this place he called his abode, that he learned about the immortal war between the gods aand demons. He faintly recollected a memory from a distance past, when there were disputes between the gods and the demons, but nothing major in the sense of a total war. A primeval immortal war!

So far gone.

And here he was. A dying shell of his true existence. A pity it was. He knew he would never be back to his former self. He had lost great amount of his life essence during the attack. He was extremely fortunate to escape with this little essence of his life.

How sad?
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The fallen god reminisced. He had been trying to recollect who he was but the little essence contained little memory of his former self. He couldn't even remember his own name anymore. Sad indeed. How long had he even been here? Millions of years? Hundreds of millions of years? Or billions? He had no recollection of this. But he knew he had been here before the beginning of the primeval wars. He was here when the war started and with his nearly faded life-essence, he concluded he must have spent an eternity in this world of ruins.

Down here in the dimensional world, time moved differently. Unlike in the heavenly realm, moments in time could stretch into eternities.

Through the echoes of sounds carried through time, he was aware of the wars, though, he didn't know their details. He also came to know about the champions that the gods and demons were choosing for themselves to carry out their interests.

A champion!

Since he became aware of this, he had renewed his resolve to live a little bit longer. Hence, he had continued hiding and waiting for someone who would remember his name. Someone to prevent it from being erased from the memory of the universe. Someone to avenge him?


But he knew. This was a futile hope. His name would have been long forgotten. Who in their right minds would continue following a dead god? Even when he was still in the heavenly realm, he was not among those with the most followers. Thus, why would he have any follower left talkless of more.

He let out a soft sigh as he continued contemplating. Though, he had no power to change any of the past events, he truly hoped he could recall why he was here. He could only base it on possible assumptions. He had to be hiding from something or someone in the heavenly realm that he barely escaped.

But, why?

Part of him wanted to remember the forgotten answers while the other part knew it was in futility. His faded memory left no more for him. All he had left, was a fraction of his life-essence. The dying essence of a hoping god which continued to be preserved by the walls of runic lights and the crystals' dome.

As time passes by, his life-essence continued to fade away. As the god was contemplating his fading essence, he heard the faintest and slightest of sound, coming from the mortal realm.

The echoes of the birth-cries of a newly born ancient, echoes that were carried forward by a believing tribe. He could feel the echoes thrumming in the palladium rock around him, even in the mountain. The eternity he had spent here had created a connection between him and the mountain. He was still a god, albeit a fast dying one. The slightest and faintest echoes vibrated through the mountain and the rocks to him like a pulsing beat among the mountains roots.

An ancient mortal among his followers! He actually had followers left? Even the gods couldn't help but have fits of joy. Probably, his name, that he couldn't remember, wouldn't be forgotten. Probably...

Nonetheless, that was good enough for him. The only problem he would have now, was how to contact and choose the ancient, cautiously. He still didn't know who or what he was hiding from. He probably wouldn't survive long anyway, hence, he had to make every minute count. He had to plan properly before making his move to contact the ancient girl.

Patience, my champion. Patience.

He would wait just a little longer. He had been waiting all this while anyway. He couldn't afford to make any costly error at this stage.

With a weary heart full of joy and hope, the dying god rest his mind and began to do what he had long forgotten how to do.

He began to dream.

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