A shadow fell over everyone as a group of trolls emerged, their presence sucked all the attention towards them. Even Brodhar, an imposing figure in his own right, seemed diminished in their presence. Each of these giants was a monument to power, their immense, corded muscles rippling with every step. The air itself grew heavy, charged with an oppressive energy that made it difficult to breathe.
At the center of this grand assembly, the shorter figures commanded an even greater presence. Ancient trolls, their weathered forms etched with the weight of millenia, exuded a silent power that transcended time and reality. Their eyes, glowing faintly with a piercing intensity, seemed to see through flesh, bone, and soul. Behind them stood half-trolls, hobgoblins, and wildermen—fierce in their own right—but even they seemed like shadows compared to the towering might before them.
Elysian’s breath shook as his gaze locked onto the group. Cold sweats formed on his skin, and his instinct screamed at him to turn and flee. He had faced powerful people in his previous life, men and women of such power and skill that their presence alone could silence a room. Yet even the titans of the Eastern continent—the major families who hoarded power like dragons hoarded gold—paled in comparison to what now stood before him.
‘These are beings of legends.’
The group held the crowd in rapt silence, their power a tangible force that demanded reverence. Even the onlookers, trolls and half-trolls alike, had gone still, their usual bravado snuffed out like a flame before a tempest.
Two figures among the group gripped Elysian’s attention.
The first was the one who had shouted, a hulking brute of a troll whose very silhouette oozed violence. His body was a tapestry of scars, each one a testament to countless battles survived. Every step sent tremors through the platform, his massive, powerful hands flexing as if eager to crush anything that defied his will. His face was a mask of pure brutality, dominated by jagged tusks and a slashing grin that promised decimation. Yet, beyond the bloodlust in his expression, his eyes held an unsettling wisdom, sharp and calculating, like a predator biding its time.
Elysian’s chest tightened. The sheer disparity between them was staggering—that very realization carving into his pride like a hot knife.
‘Even at my strongest… even with all my past power… I wouldn’t have lasted a heartbeat against that monster.’
And yet, it was the smaller figure beside him who truly made Elysian’s knees weak.
An ancient troll matriarch, her hunched form swathed in mossy robes that seemed to pulse with life. Her gnarled staff, wrapped in vines and glowing faintly, radiated an almost unbearable aura. She was smaller than the monstrous troll beside her, but her presence dwarfed him utterly. Lines of age etched her face, giving her an enduring and timeless presence, as if she had witnessed the birth of mountains and the death of empires. Her gaze swept over Elysian, and he felt his soul laid bare, as if she could peel back the layers of his very existence with a single glance.
His vision blurred as terror gripped him. His heart hammered so fiercely he thought it might burst from his chest. His legs shook, threatening to buckle beneath him, and for a horrifying moment, he was certain he would collapse—or worse, disgrace himself entirely.
‘What kind of existence is this? How can something like her stand so close to Ironspire?’
Elysian’s mind scrambled for answers, but the sheer weight of her power crushed any coherent thought. Around him, the silence grew deafening. Even the trolls who had jeered moments before now stood frozen, their heads bowed, their breaths barely audible.
Elysian’s body trembled uncontrollably, his fists clenched tight to mask the weakness overtaking him. His knees locked, sheer will was the only thing keeping him upright. But despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine or the fear that clawed at his gut. He dared not move.
For the first time in both his lives, Elysian Ironheart knew what it felt like to stand before true power.
The towering troll growled something guttural, his deep voice carrying an edge that needed no translation. Elysian didn’t understand the words, but their meaning was clear enough. Around them, the crowd shifted, stepping back like leaves swept from a storm’s path, leaving him and Durvalk exposed under the weight of collective scrutiny.
Elysian swallowed hard, his gaze darting to the onlookers. None met his eyes. Their faces were staring at the ground, their expressions tight with the kind of fear that bore to their very being. Even Durvalk, who moments ago had been the picture of arrogance and bluster, now trembled, his broad shoulders hunched, eyes fixed firmly on his feet. He wouldn’t even answer the imposing troll’s inquiry.
‘Yup. I’m f*cked. Properly f*cked this time.’
The realization hit Elysian like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, panic clawed at his chest. But then, strangely, the fear ebbed, replaced by a cold calm that settled over him. If these powerful figures wanted him dead, there was nothing he could do. No tricks, no words, no cunning scheme would save him. His fate was entirely out of his hands.
Elysian’s lips pressed into a thin line as resignation tempered his fear.
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‘If this is it, so be it.’
The calm brought clarity to him, his thoughts became sharper, introspection creeping in as he studied the formidable figures in front. Their power was suffocating, a reminder of his own fragility.
‘No matter how strong you think you’ve become, there’s always someone stronger, someone who can crush you without a second thought. It’s humbling. Terrifying too.’
The massive troll’s gaze bore into him, his frown deepening. It wasn’t anger—it was disdain. The kind that regarded Elysian as less than nothing, a worm that had dared crawl into his presence. The heat of it stoked something raw in Elysian, a familiar burn that surged despite his better judgment.
‘He’s not wrong. I am nothing here—a vermin.’
Still, his jaw tightened. Instead of lowering his gaze, Elysian met the troll’s eyes head-on. It was reckless—stupid, even—but something in him refused to look away. His body screamed at him to submit, every instinct urging him to kneel before the overwhelming power in front. Yet he held firm, even as his chest tightened under the weight of his defiance.
The troll’s frown deepened, his displeasure palpable.
‘If I’m going to die, it won’t be groveling.’
Memories surfaced unbidden. His sister’s laugh, bright and free. The stern, commanding gaze of his father. Faces of those he had known and cared for—Bran, Osric, Amara, the people of Ironspire—flashed through his mind like fleeting shadows. His lips parted in a quiet sigh, his fists clenching as he bit down the rush of emotion. Finally, Elysian exhaled sharply and dropped his gaze, staring at the ground in reluctant surrender.
‘Damn it. Stupid pride. I thought I buried you long ago, but here you are, clinging like a bad habit. Why now? Of all times?’
His teeth pressed into his bottom lip as Elysian silently berated himself.
The imposing troll nodded slowly, his expression unreadable as he muttered something to his companions. A low rumble of words followed, and the others burst into laughter, their mocking tones carrying through the air like cold wind.
Elysian’s jaw tightened again.
‘Well, at least I’m alive—for now.’
Kaerthlyn suddenly darted forward, weaving through everyone to approach the ancient troll at the center of the group. Elysian’s stomach tightened as he watched the scene unfold. This troll, the one Kaerthlyn now greeted with unrestrained enthusiasm, was the one that he noticed earlier—the most formidable of them all. Though smaller than her companions, her presence dwarfed everyone present, radiating an aura of ageless power that chilled him to his core.
Kaerthlyn’s tone shifted, speaking in the trolls’ tongue with a familiarity that suggested something more personal. She flung her arms around the elder, who responded with an amused rumble. Despite their height difference, the ancient troll embraced Kaerthlyn with an almost maternal grace.
The others watched in silence, their expressions inscrutable, save for the faintest flickers of deference.
‘What the hell is happening?’
Elysian’s mind raced. Still confused with what was happening, but he allowed himself one small reprieve.
‘At least the attention is off me for a moment.’
Elysian observed Kaerthlyn’s interaction from a safe distance, piecing the puzzle together. The way she leaned into the elder, the ease of her words—these were not just courtesies but the marks of familial affection.
The realization struck him like a blow.
‘Wait a second… that terrifying old woman is Kaerthlyn’s grandmother?’
Elysian’s stomach churned. The ancient troll had been the one to save his life, pulling him from the brink of death. He owed her everything. But the implications of that debt made his blood run cold.
‘Why would someone like her bother saving me?’
Elysian’s eyes narrowed as his mind spiraled through the possibilities.
‘An ancient troll like her, with power and wisdom beyond understanding, wouldn’t waste her time on someone insignificant like me. People like her don’t act without reason. They see the world differently—completely detached. My life to her should’ve been as meaningful as a bug’s.
Was it a curse? A game for some kind of entertainment? What could someone like me possibly have that she’d find valuable?’
The weight of the unanswered question pressed down on him. His breathing quickened as fear crept in, settling like a stone in his chest. His skin paled as the thought tightened like a noose.
“Hey, come here!” Kaerthlyn’s cheerful voice broke through Elysian’s spiraling thoughts, startling him. She waved him over, her smile wide and friendly as she stood beside her grandmother. “Hurry!”
Elysian froze.
‘Nope. Absolutely not.’
Every instinct screamed at him to turn and run, but the weight of the crowd’s attention pinned him in place. A dozen pairs of eyes bore into him, and Kaerthlyn’s call had turned the focus squarely back on him.
‘Sh*t!’
Forcing his stiff legs to move, Elysian put on a wide, fake smile and hurried toward them. Each step felt like walking a plank, the abyss of uncertainty yawning beneath him.
‘If I already have her attention, maybe… maybe I can use it to secure my safety. And maybe I can even take advantage...’
Elysian’s own thoughts cut him short, replace by reality—a hard truth.
‘Idiot. Someone like her isn’t that simple. She’s lived longer than I can imagine and has power to match. If anyone is using anyone, it’ll be her using me until there’s nothing left to take.’
The smile on Elysian’s face felt heavier than his fear, a flimsy mask of composure as he stepped closer to Kaerthlyn and the ancient troll. With every step, the air around him seemed to thicken, carrying an almost tangible weight of inevitability that pressed against his chest.
Now that he was face-to-face with this towering, awe-inspiring figure, fear no longer felt like a fleeting instinct—it settled into his bones, steady and inescapable. But it wasn’t born of hostility or malice from her. No, there was none of that. Matriarch Thaldruna’s gaze was surprisingly soft, a measured study that carried neither disdain nor suspicion. If anything, her expression held the curiosity of someone regarding an intriguing artifact and the kindness of a grandmother indulging a wayward child. And yet, that kindness made her all the more terrifying.
Thaldruna’s presence was like standing at the edge of a storm—calm, but laced with the unmistakable hum of power. Her every movement, from the slight tilt of her head to the faint twinkle in her ancient eyes, exuded quiet control, as though the world itself bent ever so slightly to accommodate her will. Elysian’s instincts screamed at him to look away, to bow, to grovel—anything to dispel the suffocating sense of insignificance that her presence carved into his soul.
Still, his pride chained him in place, and he forced himself to meet her gaze, though his legs trembled faintly beneath him. The weight of her attention pressed down harder than anything he had experienced, as if her curiosity alone breathed life and claimed it.
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