Shadow Monarch Deku: Primordial of the Void

Dracul

A/N: I'm looking for people who can translate English into Japanese. If anybody can, please, send me a DM on discord to ragin_rayquaza#3496. That or just DM me on the PM thing on the website you're using.

Anyway, onto the C H A P T E R.

Oh, by the way, very gory, so if you can't handle that, I suggest skipping past this part, though it might not make sense in the future.

Not even breaking a sweat, Rumi arrived at a village on fire, charred corpses of humanoid figures littering the ground. The pungent smell of burning flesh finally hit her nose, wrinkling in disgust. No one could stand it. Especially Rumi, as the heightened senses enhanced the stench, only adding to the already repulsive smell Mana gave off. And this world was chock-full of it.

The experienced hero took all the surroundings within seconds, eyes scanning for any obvious enemies. All she saw was the burning buildings, the corpses, and people running around; parents looking for their children, and children, crying, looking for their parents.

After a minute or so of complete chaos, the clanking of armour and shouts that sounded like orders could be heard. Soon, three soldiers, each wearing a fitted breast-plate and fore-arm guards were heading her way, hands on their shortswords.

"Wie is jy?"

"Huh? What did you just say?"

The three looked at each other, shrugging.

"Waar kom jy vandaan?"

"Dude, I have no idea what you're saying." Rumi crossed her arms, foot lightly tapping the ground.

One of the soldiers said something in their strange language and jogged away, presumably to their leader or general. The other two just stood there, eyeing her from time to time.

Rumi had no clue what was going on, so she just stood there, impatiently waiting for something to happen.

As if on cue, the soldier came back, followed by a broad-shouldered, well-built man, as well as a thin, floaty woman with pointy ears. Both were tall, and had a fitted breast-plate, but the woman had a brown cotton-like cloak wrapped around her shoulders. The soldier who brought the man and woman was talking to them both, possibly explaining what the situation was.

"Kan jy my verstaan?" The man spoke, startling Rumi with his deep but smooth voice.

"Seriously, what language is that?"

To Rumi's surprise, both the man and woman looked at each other and laughed.

The man gestured to the elf-like woman, and she slowly stuck her hand out, chanting in the same unknown language.

What surprised Rumi even more was a circle with unknown symbols appeared before the elvish woman's palm. The same circle open under Rumi's feet, and she jumped out of it, muscles tensing, readying for a fight.

The three soldiers drew their swords and stood on guard, ready to fight. Each sword was the usual dull, grey iron in color, but when they drew them, the blade became a glowing yellow-orange. Rumi scrunched her nose as the stench of Mana increased

Once again, the taller man laughed, and said, "Sit u wapens neer."

Confused, the three looked at each other, Rumi, and the man, reluctantly putting their swords down. As the yellow-orange color faded, the pungent Mana smell decreased by a fraction. Rumi realised that the swords had been infused with Mana, but as for how, she did not know.

As calm as a sloth, the man put his hands up, and, in the strange language once more, started talking. He gestured to the woman, and then at Rumi, hands ending in a circle.