Velk's grandfather took off sprinting towards the town center. He ran at incredible speed and exhibited a level of control over his body that would impress most others. Under normal circumstances, Velk would have felt terrified by the speed, but since his grandfather was carrying him, he felt no fear.
"Papa, don't you think it's too hot?" Velk had just enough life experience to realize that it was usually cold at night and should be freezing due to the rain and wind. Instead, it felt like early spring: neither too hot nor too cool.
"Yes, it's warmer than it should be. Can you please tell me if you see anything in the sky behind me?" Velk followed his grandfather's request and glanced upward, squinting due to the rain. He saw nothing but rain clouds and distant mountains, illuminated by moonlight. While squinting, he noticed signs of smoke rising from the nearby volcano, but he dismissed it.
"Nothing?" Velk was puzzled by his grandfather's question, but he interpreted it as his grandfather being overly cautious, so he dismissed it. Velk wasn't fully aware of how the bell system operated and did not wholly grasp that they were in grave danger.
There had been numerous monster 'attacks' on the village, yet nothing that the local militia and guild personnel couldn't handle. Velk knew that his grandfather also protected the settlement from deadly threats, but there had never been a need for him to intervene while Velk was alive.
As they continued their journey toward the village center, Velk observed his grandfather and the felyne drinking various liquids from glass bottles. They were all different colors, ranging from white to brown. Velk found the scene fascinating, particularly when he saw his grandfather gulp down a cyan drink and immediately become even faster.
It only took a couple of minutes for them to reach the center of the village after drinking the potion. The scene they stumbled upon was hectic and overwhelming for the young Velk. Around six hundred men, women, and children were helping out however they could. Multiple carts were filled with food supplies, blankets, pillows, and just about anything one might need. A large number of wyverians and felynes could be seen among the crowd. Even the two guild receptionists, with whom Velk was somewhat familiar, were no exceptions.
Wyverians were a species that closely resembled humans yet possessed distinct discrepancies, such as pointed ears, four fingers instead of five, and prolonged lifespans. Some even possessed digitigrade legs. As they age, they begin to vastly range in height from very tiny to monstrously tall.
The felynes, on the other hand, were a race of short cat people covered in hair from head to toe. Given their intelligence, they could do just about anything a human or wyverian could do, and as a result, they were accepted into society. Often, they were employed as cleaners, shopkeepers, and even cooks. Some were even willingly accepted as 'pets.' The palico riding alongside the older man with Velk was one such felyne.
Velk's grandfather briefly skimmed through the crowd before dashing toward the familiar blond-haired man who had previously shown up on their doorstep. The youth was startled for just a moment before returning to his stoic demeanor.
"I see that you have done your duty, and for that, you have my thanks." The older man slightly bowed toward the young man, who began to redden profusely. He tried to get Velk's grandfather to stop showing his appreciation, and Velk hugged his grandfather's neck tighter with a pout as he tried to hang on.
"But I need to ask you for another favor, son."
"What is it!" The youth appeared excited about a request from Velk's grandfather.
"I need you to look after Velk on the journey to Rak-Al-Faar. Please ensure his safety and keep him out of harm's way." The young man's expression shifted from excitement to conflict as he listened to Velk's grandfather.
After a brief pause, the young man decided to speak up, "Oh. . . um. . . sir, actually, I was planning to stay and fight the monster with everyone else. Maybe. . . ?"
Since the youth was making excuses, Velk's grandfather promptly interrupted him, saying, "You are one of the few I can trust with this mission. I would greatly appreciate it if you could handle this for me."
The youth appeared to have made up his mind as he gave a hunter's salute to Velk's grandfather. Once again, he shouted, "It will be done! What must I do?"
Though subtle, the older man faintly smiled as he observed the youth's enthusiasm and eagerness to serve.
"What's your name, kid?" Velk's grandfather asked. The youth grew excited once more but quickly restored his calm demeanor afterward.
"My name is Ethran. . . . Ethran Broonbon!" Ethran shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice rising above the storm.
"Well, Ethran Broonbon, I need you to take Velk with the rest of the refugees to Rak-Al-Faar and find a woman named Rose Ametillia. She will look after Velk until I can meet back up. Just tell her that. . . ."
Roar!
A loud and resounding roar stunned the entire crowd.
Velk's grandfather quickly pushed Velk into Ethran's arms, along with the backpack, while turning to face the direction of the cry. "Just tell her that I sent ya," he said as he dashed toward a large group of hunters and soldiers, about thirty strong.
Velk did not like being held by a complete stranger, but he knew that his grandpa needed him to stay far away, so he endured it. As Velk tried to find a way to make himself more comfortable, Ethran stared at the fighters, civilians, and the distant mountain. He caught a glimpse of a large orange sphere in the sky near the volcano.
Cries and screams echoed as others began to notice it, too. By this point, the temperature of the surrounding area had risen tremendously. The thing in the sky appeared to be a large wyvern of sorts, enveloped by a ball of pure flame.
"We have to go. Now!" a short wyverian elder shouted to the group looking to retreat. Everyone started panicking and searching for family members before running, while a few began pushing the carts.
"Everyone on me!" a voice yelled, matching the volume of the wyvern's cry. It was Velk's grandfather. "Drink your cool drinks and wear your fireproof mantles!" His voice boomed, resonating throughout the village even above the thunder and rain. Though it wasn't as overbearing as the wyvern's, it effectively conveyed the message.
Every hunter and soldier began drinking white liquids, donning red hoods, or grabbing their weapons. The convoy also started moving out of the village along a dirt road, hastening to escape the looming terror. Some solitary men and women rushed ahead while children cried and screamed. Although most didn't understand what was happening, kids could sense the mood and were highly susceptible to emotions. Still, Velk, wanting to cry yet holding back, stared intently at his distant grandfather, who continued directing the defenders.
As the wyvern approached and the temperature rose, the convoy sped up, desperate to escape the impending fury. The old wyverian's voice could be heard shouting, "Go, Go, Go!" as he pushed a heavy-looking cart clanking pots and pans. They were nearly at the point of an all-out sprint because the wyvern was flying at unmatched speed toward the village. It would take only a minute before it reached them, and no one wanted to stick around to feel the heat up close.
The defense force recognized this, too, as they ran toward the wyvern to try to stop it in its flight. Many of them were already sweating by this point, yet they still could not get a clear description of the creature. All they knew was that it was flying extraordinarily fast. Perhaps too fast. . . .
Suddenly, the ball of fire accelerated, nearly tripling its previous speed. It caught the defenders off guard and halted their advance. Within seconds, the flaming wyvern was upon them. Once it reached the center of the settlement, it abruptly stopped mid-flight.
Floating above the village was what seemed to be a giant black rock. It was enveloped in flames and radiated a menacing heat. Those who had consumed a Cool Drink felt as if they had stepped too close to a bonfire. Meanwhile, those who had failed to drink the necessary liquid were silently writhing in agony. A couple of them even fainted on the spot due to the heat. It felt like being pricked by thousands of tiny needles. The rain had ceased to pour around the village as it evaporated into vapor. All the grass was slowly withering and turning brown.
Suddenly, the flames retreated into the floating rock, and it unexpectedly fell from the sky. The rock landed with a crash, creating a massive crater. All the hunters quickly surrounded the fallen 'wyvern' with haste after regaining their footing, while most of the soldiers stalled for a moment. Each of them began preparing to attack at any given moment. No more heat emanated from the 'rock,' but that didn't mean it was any less dangerous.
The rock was enormous, about the size of two huts placed side by side. Orange, glowing veins of molten lava could be seen running alongside the 'wyvern.' Despite its appearance, there were no visible signs identifying it as a wyvern, but anyone close enough could sense that the rock contained a significant amount of vitality.
With that, a minute passed, and no one moved a muscle. Even the retreating party foolishly paused to watch what was happening.
Velk's grandfather made the first move. He grabbed the dangerous-looking longsword from his back and pointed it at the wyvern with one hand. The sword began to glow as streaks of cyan lines connecting each gem illuminated.
"I know what you are looking for, but you won't find them here. . . . They're gone. . . . I no longer have them. . . ." Though his voice was soft, it still possessed the same booming effect as before. Everyone could hear his words, even those retreating. Yet, no one moved, not even the wyvern, and everything was eerily quiet. Not a single buzzing came from the insects, and no bird made its song known. The thunder and lightning didn't dare reveal their presence now.
"Leave!" the old man demanded.
Once again, nothing happened.
Another minute passed, and the defenders began to relax their muscles, believing the wyvern to be passive. It wasn't until the most inexperienced among them exhaled a sigh of relief that the rock started to tremble. As the ground shook, many lost their balance and fell onto the dirt. The temperature rose swiftly once more as lava began to ooze out of the rock.
The rock slowly unraveled, revealing a menacing black stone wyvern with fiery, glowing eyes. On its head were three curved horns that appeared sharp enough to impale even the strongest metal, and its maw glowed with the same vibrancy as its eyes. The entirety of its body was filled with the same veins of molten slag visible when it was still a giant rock, and its stony wings seemed to be attached along the length of its body.
Standing tall, it was larger than most average homes. Its claws tore through the ground as they slowly melted the dirt and rocks in contact with them. It had a large tail with a three-pronged spike at the tip, and the creature was radiating a terrifying heat that threatened to roast anything that came too close.
Regardless of their prior preparations, everyone could feel their flesh tingling with an uncomfortable sensation as if it could melt away at any moment. Painful groans and cries resonated from those who had not consumed anything to cool down, and many struggled to breathe. Each individual was acutely aware that they were undoubtedly confronting an elder dragon, a wyvern identified as such for the immense power and destruction it could unleash.
Still, Velk's grandfather stood with his sword pointed at the dragon, seemingly unbothered by the heat as a light layer of frost coated his Fireproof Mantle.
The infernal dragon and the old man stared at each other as they moved into their fighting stances. Velk's grandfather drew his sword and sheathed it on his left hip while keeping his steady right hand on the hilt. His legs were spread wide apart, and he was slightly crouched, ready to strike at a moment's notice. A blue aura radiated from his body. He was in the Special Sheath Stance, as named by the Hunters Guild, and if timed correctly, he could bisect many monsters in a single encounter.
Mr. Hot Stuff was also slowly unfurling its wings, which were made of the same stony material as the rest of its body. How it could even fly was unknown, but it could, and that was all that mattered. It began to flap its rocky wings and ascended at an incline. Seemingly ready to take the battle to the sky, it represented an unprepared hunter's worst nightmare.
Most defenders quickly took up battle-ready formations and stances. They all knew they were in for a heated conflict, and it was wise to start preparing now before they were unexpectedly thrown from the frying pan and into the fire.
"Roar!"
The dragon unleashed a fierce war cry as it dive-bombed toward Velk's grandfather. Almost everyone covered their ears and began to tremble. Those wearing armor that offered ear protection didn't need to block their ears. Although Velk's grandfather wasn't equipped with such armor, he appeared unfazed.
Just moments before the elder dragon collided with the old man, the blue aura surrounding him appeared to rip through the surrounding space as he executed a long horizontal slash. The force of the slash propelled him forward—following the blade's inertia—spinning around and finishing behind the elder dragon. He didn't seem injured, even though he should have been sent flying by the dragon after it crashed into him.
A red beam of light sliced through the air, tearing into the dragon's feet and sending lava and rock debris flying from its origin. A long trail of upheaved ground followed in the wake of the dragon's crash, and six defenders leaped out of the way to avoid the impact.
Furious, the dragon's body glowed a heated orange, and the lines along its sides shone brightly. These were clear signs that the dragon was enraged and preparing to unleash hell.
"Run!" Velk's grandfather warned. The novice hunters and inexperienced soldiers were slow to react, while the veterans sprinted away as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, it was already too late.
The key had already been inserted, and the gate was unlocked. All hell broke loose as a fierce orange fire raged. The surrounding buildings were reduced to ashes, and the plants bellowed in agony. Bloodcurdling screams of anguish rang out as the charred bodies of fallen defenders dropped to the ground.
Those who were still alive experienced pain not so much from the heat but from something far—far more profound; it felt as if their sense of self was being extinguished, as if their very souls were being snuffed out. Still. . . yet, one man—one singular man stood firm.
He began to hack, slash, jump, and slice, spinning around like a skilled acrobat. Velk's grandfather, undisturbed by the raging fire, continued to fight. He faced the opposing rocky dragon as if it were a long-time rival. An air of familiar intimacy was garnered between the two.
The entire retreating force watched as the defenders fell and their homes were destroyed. Men, women, and children cried as they witnessed their loved ones, friends, and possessions all whittle away under the intense heat. The heat was so powerful that they could feel it as if they were only centimeters away from a campfire.
Still, Velk watched his grandfather fight the dragon. It was not until the second blast of fire, which covered his view of the fight, that he heard the old man's still-booming voice cry out in pain.
Velk flinched at the man's familiar voice. His nose turned sour as he listened to his grandfather scream. He fidgeted desperately in Ethran's arms while shouting, "Papa! Papa!" The waterworks streamed down his face as he kicked and struggled to escape the arms that held him captive.
Every other child in the vicinity, seemingly influenced by Velk's outcry, began to cry even louder. Babies that had somehow been asleep stirred awake and also started to cry. Ethran felt helpless as Velk kicked harder and even began to punch and bite him. He could not release the child, as running back to the village would be tantamount to suicide.
As he suffered the injustices inflicted upon him by Velk, he could only hope that Velk would someday forgive him for the actions he must take. Even if that never came to pass, Ethran would willingly bear the scorn of a young child rather than dishonor Velk's grandfather.
"I'm sorry," Velk heard Ethran whisper into his ear before a light-blue cloth was pressed against his mouth and nose. The moment was brief, and then his entire world turned black.
With the now unconscious child in his arms, Ethran could swiftly and steadily move with the group as they made their way down the path to Rak-Al-Faar.
Behind them, they could hear the dragon's furious roars and see the flames intensifying as time passed. That night, a mysterious elder dragon scorched the surrounding valley. The group did not understand why the dragon did not target them, but they were grateful.
Once the refugees reached Rak-Al-Faar after two days of travel, they were interrogated and offered temporary shelter. The local officials faced significant challenges in understanding what had occurred, as none of the refugees could provide matching descriptions of the wyvern. However, there were a few constants: the heat, still radiating from the semi-permanently scarred land as they began their search of the region, and the terrifying flames that the dragon unleashed.
Thus, after months of deliberation and investigation, the Hunter's Guild bestowed the name upon it.
Sanatan Lasair.