** Heart of Feralthar
The wind sang a melodic tune as it brushed against the rocks and trees that stood tall and majestic within the great suspended city. Homes and buildings rested upon an intricate network of platforms, connected by rope bridges that shimmered under the moonlight. A luminous fluid flowed within the ropes, giving them the appearance of being alive.
The trees were so massive and thick that entire structures had been built inside them. Every aspect of the city had been designed to minimize its impact on nature: trees grew through the buildings, streams flowed freely, and the beastfolk lived in harmony with the forest.
From a grand structure adorned with raw stone and polished wood, the sounds of a heated argument echoed. It was a vast meeting hall, constructed within a natural cavern that pierced the ground and extended to the top of the tallest tree. Moonlight reflected off the stone walls, illuminating the interior with a mesmerizing beauty.
At the center of the hall, three prominent chairs seated imposing figures: two men and a woman, all with muscular builds and striking beastly features—pointed ears, tails, sharp claws, and prominent fangs.
Before them, an assembly buzzed with overlapping comments, making it difficult to discern what was being said.
"ENOUGH!" shouted the woman seated on the central throne, silencing the chaos.
About twenty beastfolk, mature in appearance and with sharp gazes, turned their attention to the three leaders.
"How much of this rumor is true, and how much is fantasy?" asked the leader on the right, whose imposing, curved horns stood out on his head.
A feline-featured beastfolk, well-dressed, stepped forward. "Initially, we assumed it was all lies. But since a royal decree was signed by the queen herself, we've come to believe the story holds some truth. Over thirty battles have been reported in the last month alone," he replied respectfully.
"Why does this matter? Why concern ourselves with a brat who still smells of milk?" interjected the third beastfolk abruptly, seated on the left. His most striking feature was a fiery red mane in place of hair.
A low murmur spread through the hall, with some beastfolk agreeing and others disagreeing.
"Silence!" the woman on the central throne shouted again. Her claws extended as she spoke, and an intense pressure filled the room.
"Have we not suffered enough from underestimating the power of other races? Do some of you wish to return to slavery? To the days when we were treated as mere pets?"
Silence was the only response, but in the eyes of all present, small sparks of resentment flickered.
"Have you forgotten how your daughters were treated? How your parents died under the lash? All because we failed to pay attention to what was happening in other races!"
"That's why it's important to study what's happening in other territories. Sometimes, a single pebble can trigger an avalanche!"
The woman's commanding words brought caution to the room, and the assembly finally fell silent, awaiting the verdict of the three leaders.
"What do you think, Voruna? Is it possible for an Awakened, less than thirty days old, to perform so overwhelmingly?" asked the leader with the lion-like mane.
"It's rare, but not unheard of. You two weren't born yet, but when that monstrous queen appeared, she caused a similar uproar," Voruna replied.
"Are you suggesting another monster of that caliber has been born in the demonic kingdom?" asked Kabal, the leader with the horns.
"If the stories are true, then I fear so, Kabal."
"Damn it!" Tharn cursed, smashing the armrest of his chair with a violent punch.
"What the hell is happening in the world? First, humans show up with several blessed by deities, and now an even greater monster emerges out of nowhere in the demonic empire," Kabal pondered.
"According to reports, his name is Glenn. Not only does he possess extraordinary talent, but he's also become the disciple of that walking calamity," Voruna added.
"Elian left his tower and accepted him as a disciple?" Tharn questioned.
"Yes."
"Is it possible, then, that these victories aren't the boy's doing, but that aberration's?"
"Impossible!" Kabal retorted. "No matter how skilled a teacher is, if the student lacks the talent to absorb and apply the teachings, there's nothing the teacher can do."
"What about his defeats?" Voruna asked the beastfolk who had delivered the information.
"Six in total. Five warriors at the Champion rank, at the borders of Romper leading to the higher levels, and one mage with earth and water affinities."
"Plausible. Warriors are poor counters for mages in the early ranks. And even so, he only suffered six defeats. That's impressive," Voruna concluded.
"Indeed, but what do we do? I don't believe you called me here just for idle chatter," Tharn said.
"Do we cut the problem at the root before it grows, or do we pursue the alliance route?" Kabal questioned.
"My instincts don't sense danger when we focus on him. We can wait and observe his actions in the near future. If he's open to perspectives, we can strengthen our ties with the demons."
"But what if he's problematic?" Tharn pressed.
"Then he won't have many days left to count," Voruna replied coldly, her voice laced with threat.
"What about the banquet?" Kabal asked.
"Let me go assess the queen's whelp," Tharn offered.
"NO!" Kabal and Voruna shouted in unison.
"You're the last person we'd send to a social banquet. Besides, you're a terrible dancer," Kabal retorted.
"Grrr..."
"This isn't an occasion for a figure of great respect to appear. Aside from the rumors that he's the queen's consort, none of it has been proven."
"People call him the 'queen's pawn,' and we should treat him as such. Send a diplomat accustomed to demonic traditions," Voruna decided.
"The best person for the mission is in human territory, on a pilgrimage!" Tharn spat, his tone acidic as he emphasized the word 'pilgrimage.'
"Quiet. If Drakk's pilgrimage succeeds, we'll have the first beastfolk blacksmith in history at the Sanctum rank."
"Very well. I'll choose the diplomat myself and send a gift that's neither too modest nor too extravagant," Kabal said, diffusing the tension between the two leaders.
More questions arose: Glenn's affinities, fighting style, energy capacity, and equipment. To the surprise of many, aside from his notably impressive Nexus, all his victories had been attributed to brilliant strategies and high adaptability in combat.
Many beastfolk mages of the same rank felt their blood boil at the emergence of a new genius and how his story had changed in just thirty days.
The tale of Glenn began to spread from mouth to mouth. Some believed it was propaganda spread by the demonic kingdom, a marketing ploy to pressure the new generation of other races.
Others, however, gave it credence and etched the name of this new anomaly into their memories.