Chapter 1: A Tide

“Village Chief! There’s a crisis!” a loud, desperate shout filled up a small village.

Everyone turned their heads and peered toward the source of the clamour. In their sight, they saw a wounded man in his early 20s limping, sporting a shredded brown leather hunting armour and pants. An empty scabbard was on his back and a bare belt strapped to his waist.

Covered in sweat from head to toe, the youth staggered as his eyebrows knitted together. Villagers, having recognised the frail young man, gasped upon seeing him.

Two men, both wearing similar armour as the struggling youth, dashed forward to help him. If someone were to compare the men’s armour to the youth’s, then the men’s had only sustained light scratches. While the youth’s had gone through a vicious tempering through blood and war.

Once they arrived at the Chief’s place, the men backed away, allowing the youth to stumble alone toward the house. The villagers stood by in silence; hoping to find out what has transpired. The Chief had already exited his home once he heard the yelling. Not even a second had passed when the stumbling youth collapsed right in front of him.

Villagers gasped again as some hesitated about helping the feeble young man. No one took a step forward, keeping their distance while waiting for the Chief’s reaction.

“Reynold?! What are you doing here?” the Village Chief exclaimed in shock surprised by the youth. “… And where is your uncle?” he gaped at the youth with his eyebrows lifted.

Reynold was now lying on the ground heavily panting. He attempted to form a reply, but with his heavy breathing and dry throat, it resulted in an inaudible sound. The crowd of villagers nearby were silent, even the young kids, as they were afraid of interrupting Reynold with their chatter.

The Village Chief, noticing this, commanded a villager to fetch water for Reynold as he rushed toward him and held him in his arms.

“Calm down, Reynold. Only by remaining calm can you talk.” the Chief reprimanded.

As Reynold’s breathing steadied, a sudden gush of a calming force developed in his body. The mysterious power within him helped his mind and heart to slow down as his once tensed face relaxed subtly.  

A villager brought out a clay cup of water from their house and dashed toward the Chief in a hurry. A surprising fact was that even though they were running toward the Chief, not a single drop of water was spilt from the cup. The Chief grabbed the cup provided to him and helped Reynold drink the water to hydrate him.

“Chief… Chief… It’s….” Reynold once again attempting to speak and this time he squeezed out a few words before coughing once more.

Reynold clenched his hands forming two fists and mustered the meagre energy within him. “There’s… A Tide!” Reynold shouted out as his eyebrow scrunched up, his eyes knitted tightly together and his nails digging into his hands.

As soon as the words left his mouth, it was as if a giant boulder had left his chest and he lost strength once again. His eyes shut as he fell into a deep sleep. With just the three words alone, everyone in the village understood what Reynold meant by a Tide. A shriek escaped from the crowd as they digested the new information. Every single one of them had a face full of worry as their body sweated from their dread. After a period of panic, the villagers then looked toward their leader, the Village Chief.

The Village Chief, clad in a brown fur armour with lines engraved on it. Despite his full brown attire, he had a rather contrasting dark lustrous green hair colour. A pair of luminous verdant eyes were as green as the leaves of a spring oak tree. However, these pair of eyes had become murky as soon as he heard Reynold’s last words before he passed out.

The Village Chief then let another villager keep hold of Reynold as he stood up tall with his back straight. He turned and looked toward the lush green forest that now had an ominous atmosphere. Amidst his thoughts on the Tide; his fists clenched, his brows furrowed, and his eyes shut.

His eyes shot open, filled with determination. Despite their initial shock, every single one of the villagers had clear green eyes without a speck of a cloud. As if they no longer had any more hesitation seeing the clear change that had happened to their leader. The Chief, witnessing their conviction, then let out a silent sigh in remorse not noticed by anyone in the village.   

Reassured by his people, the Village Chief’s heart toughened up like a Dryad tree’s trunk. Well aware that the upcoming battle would cost lives, the Chief had hesitations. However, evacuation was not a viable choice for the village of Igysil. Not a single villager could abandon their home because they knew once they abandon their home, there was nowhere to escape to. The closest civilisation to Igysil was the capital of Esgard which was a 10-day journey on foot and a 5-day journey on a steed. If they tried to evacuate now, the Tide would catch up to them and the casualties would be higher than if they stayed and fought.

Their ancestors had plotted the land and sacrificed themselves to develop the land till this day. Sweat, tears and blood poured onto the land for the current generation to live and for future generations to thrive. The people were born here, grew up here, and it was their home. Abandoning their home was not an option. All of these reasons combined to forge a strong will to survive the impending Tide.

The Chief took a step forward and surveyed his people. He bellowed out, “In the name of Polius Ramus, I’ll lay down my life for this land. For the brave, I’ll lead you to battle, only from our sacrifice and effort will we will achieve victory for our people. For the scared, I’ll be the towering tree for you to confide. For the weak, believe in me and believe in yourself that we will survive this battle if we muster all our strength in unison. Lay down your life to protect the young and old. Lay down your life to protect your beloved. Lay down your life to protect our descendants and prosperity. We will survive!” His speech invigorated the villagers, preparing them for the ensuing battle.

“Village Guardians, it’s now your duty to rise to the challenge to defend our home. Make haste and gather your equipment. If any Guardian is lacking in equipment, then go to the village storehouse immediately. Hunters, go along with the Guardians and gear up,” Polius commanded the warriors of the village.

Both male and female warriors, affected by their Chief’s charisma, roared out to show their battle spirit. All the warriors then bolted toward the storehouse to gather their weapon and armour. Only to leave behind a small crowd of villagers.

After directing the warriors of the village, Polius gazed toward a white-robed man - who appeared to be in his early 30s. Staring at the man with a hint of respect in his eyes, the Chief spoke, “Apollonius Theo, please gather all the Acolytes and focus all effort to produce restoration pellets. We’ll need as much as possible to prepare for the survival of our village,” his voice was distinctly gentler compared to earlier.

“I will do my best for the village,” Theo responded with a mellow voice.

He saluted the Chief, by placing his fist against his chest, and then led away another group of villagers. The remaining villagers made up by the elderly and children.

“Now for the rest of you, I sense the battle spirit surging within you. But you are not ready for the battle and you have tasks you must carry out for the village. If you want to serve the village, then finish the duties you have. Elders, I beseech you to lead the younglings toward the village gate and set up the ceremony,” Polius said with a respectful tone.  

“Hahaha, you, sonny, what do you have to worry about when this old man is here. Leading the kids? No worries. No go on, stop dilly-dallying and carry out your other business,” a husky voice rang out as an old man step forward from the crowd.

Instead of having verdant hair colour similar to the other villagers or having dark green hair like the Chief, the old man’s hair was a light green honeydew. Opposite to his strong booming voice, the old coot appeared to be near the limit of his lifespan; wrinkles over his face, shaky hands and a hunched back.

The Chief glanced at him with appreciation and nodded in approval. The elder didn’t wait for the Chief’s response and had already led the remaining villagers away.

Stepping back inside his house, the Chief sighed to himself as doubt surfaced in his heart. The old Chief always said a good leader must not have any hesitation and must always be resolute in the decisions making. I must always be decisive and swift when leading our village. However, how can I possibly have zero hesitation when the decision made will devastate the lives of our people, our brothers and sisters, our brethren?

So that he wouldn’t diminish their spirit, he had put up a facade. Quietly resting on his chair, his listless eyes closed as he deliberated over the situation, desiring to find another solution.

After a moment of speculation and not being able to think up another method to break out of the situation. Polius sighed in resignation and stood up from his chair looking at the door of his house. “I will not let myself to be the last Village Chief of Igysil and this village will not fall under my command.”

Polius left the house, discarding his last threads of hesitation. There was no more time for any doubt, hence why he must stride swiftly forward with his decisions.

Polius headed toward the village’s storehouse. The storage served as the village’s armoury, grains and produce storage, and resources storage. For its functions, the storage was the most heavily guarded area in the village with restricted access.

Upon his arrival, he could see the now almost empty storehouse as warriors had withdrawn the weapons, and all villagers mobilised to prepare for the battle.

Progressing inside the now barren storehouse, in his sight: a wall overcome with tree vines and green moss. It was a bizarre sight inside a storehouse and an anomaly without a doubt. Behind this odd wall lay the most precious treasure of the village beside its people.

Raising and placing his hand against the wall, Polius felt its heartbeat as if it was alive. A green aura radiated from his hands. Resonating with the aura, the vines and moss grew at an inconceivable momentum. Once the vines swallowed up the wall, they separated from each other. Instead of the earlier empty brick wall, now there was a suit of armour.

The armour comprised a chest plate, arm guards, shoulder plates and leg guards; each component coated in a brown hue. Mesmerised by the set of armour, Polius raised his finger and stroke against its engravings. As Polius’ finger traced the inscription, the lines shone with a green light - the armour was awakening.

After every single engraving on the armour had been lit up, the surface of the armour transformed from its metallic material into a wood-like material. Along with the transformation, the set of armour exuded an archaic aura as if the armour had been floating on the river of time. It had become even more unfathomable than before. Overwhelmed at the transformation, Polius’ verdant eyes glistened as the tree of hope sprouted inside him. The hope for survival against the danger that was about to befall his village.   

He removed his current brown fur armour and revealing his slim yet muscular body. Every fibre of his muscles was overflowing with energy. Polius took off the chest plate from the wall and equipped it. It was a perfect fit on Polius, as if made just for him. He then did the same for the other pieces of armour and once he equipped the last piece - another transformation occurred.

Vines grew out of the armour pieces and connected to each other. The armour completing its final transformation had become a full armour that left no opening or weaknesses. Along with the change, the armour had bonded with Polius and became one with him. By equipping his new armour, Polius felt a swell of energy as he was being boosted by the mysterious equipment.

Satisfied with his new armour, Polius left the storehouse and made his way toward the village gate where the others were. While Polius was busy obtaining his new gear, the whole village was busy carrying out his orders. At the village’s entrance, there was now a large rune inscription that encompassed the gate.

The rune inscription comprised an inner circle and an outer circle. The children and elders were in the inner circle along with Theo and his Acolytes while the Hunters and Guardians stood on the outer ring.

On each Hunter’s waist was a pair of daggers, and on their back, a bow. The Guardians, on the other hand, were equipped with large arm guards and one sword each. Unsurprisingly, the arm guards were for defence, when connected to each other to form a large shield, but they could also be used to bash the enemy with the edge of the guard. Wood seemed to be the material used for the Guardian’s arm guards and Hunter’s bows creation. However, the equipment made by wood was peculiar as they were a higher grade and quality than the metallic swords and daggers.

As Polius made his way to the entrance, everyone in the village stopped what they were doing and stared at their Chief. Stunned by his new armour, the villager’s confidence welled up. After a momentary pause, they continued to carry out their preparations. However, now they had a new sincere hope and conviction within them. This was the responsibility of a Chief, to motivate his people and be their symbol of hope and strength.  

The ground trembled with the pebbles bouncing and the atmosphere deteriorated. Realising that what they feared was about to occur, the villagers rushed into formation with Polius standing in front. The atmosphere was so tense that it could cut boulders in halves; the children were restless as they clung to the elders in fright.

Leaves shook off trees and blew off with the wind as if the leaves themselves were trying to escape from the predicament. Villagers gulped their saliva and clenched their fists in anxiety as some of them sweated. Hunters and Guardians readied themselves with their weapons in hand, the Guardians standing right behind the Chief with their arm guard connected, forming a barrier of shields. Behind the Guardians, the Hunters drew their bow although they had no arrows on them.

From afar, the warriors could see a cluster of dust as it devastated the forest on its path. Even the bravest of warriors could not help feel fear upon seeing this sight. Despite the warriors’ and Chief’s dreads, they knew what they must do to protect their village and their people. Hence none displayed their fear and instead showed their tremendous valour.

As the cluster of dust approach ever so quick, the villagers could see its true appearance. It was what they assumed. The Tide wasn’t just a cluster of dust. Its true form was what they feared the most…

A beast tide!