The Chronicles of Marum - The Primordial

Divine Conclave (Ózis) - Part II

ACT III

Before the spectacular view of the ocean, I feel a mix of admiration and apprehension. My eyes fix on the shimmering ocean, lost in its vastness. "May this ocean be the cradle of new deities, giving birth to forces that can join us in this fight," I implore the beyond.

"But what good is an army of new gods if we lack the weapons to equip them?" Zilevo states, looking at me as if he understands my thoughts. He questions, with a slightly bitter tone, marked by practical reality. His eyes reflect a latent concern, revealing the depth of his strategic thinking. Zilevo crosses his arms, tilting his head slightly, a gesture that underlines the seriousness of his words.

I meet Zilevo's gaze, realizing the depth of his analysis. His statement resonates with an uncomfortable truth, and I feel a weight forming in my chest. "Zilevo is right," I think, a reluctant acknowledgment forming in my mind. His comment not only challenges the euphoria of the moment but also highlights the critical need to prepare more adequately for the looming confrontation.

Tanri, with a calculating look, begins to conjure small particles of water between his skilled hands. "Arcríris is excellent if the goal is to gather materials. There, we will find abundant resources to forge weapons and armor," he says, his voice sounding like an echo of strategic possibilities. The water dances in his palms, reflecting his control and knowledge.

Theos, following Tanri's thought, adds with firm conviction. "Exactly. Arcríris is a treasure trove of crystals, perfect for forging into lethal weapons, capable of wounding and even killing Máterum." His words are spoken with a touch of resolution, as the colorless sphere in his hand gradually disappears, as if his ideas were dissipating into the air.

The word "kill" resonates in my mind, echoing with uncomfortable intensity. I pause for a moment, lost in thought. "Kill?" I repeat to myself, an inner turmoil. "Perhaps, this is too extreme. Do we really need to go to such lengths?" I silently ponder, feeling an internal conflict. "He was wrong to imprison us in Salacrum, but to kill him for this single mistake is absurd." The memory of Máterum as a kind and gentle father surfaces in my thoughts, starkly contrasting with the idea of his death. "Despite his errors, he always guided us with kindness," I murmur in my thoughts. My expression, lost in conflict, reveals the internal battle I face - the duty towards my siblings and the love for a father who, despite his errors, has always been a figure of kindness in our existence.

Zilevo breaks the silence, his hands trembling slowly in a random manner, a gesture that has become frequent since our escape from Salacrum. "Who will go to Arcríris to get the crystals?" He asks, his voice slightly trembling, reflecting the involuntary movement of his hands. The movement suggests an unspoken trauma, an invisible scar from our experience in Salacrum, but none of us have ever openly addressed the issue.

Without hesitation, I step forward. "I will!" I respond, feeling an urgency to actively contribute to our cause and finally be useful in this war.

Zilevo, still trembling, looks at me with a serious expression. "Don't go alone. It's too risky. Take reinforcements with you," he orders, the concern evident in his voice and the continuity of his tremor.

Theos, joining the discussion, sits on the trunk, his posture reflecting calculated caution. "Zilevo is right," he says, looking around as if searching for something. "This mission is too dangerous to go alone."

Preparing to leave the tent, I assure them with confidence. "Don't worry, I will take Críngu with me," my words are firm, already visualizing the mission ahead.

However, Theos interrupts me abruptly. "Wait a moment!" He exclaims, crouching down to pick something up from under the trunk. With a deliberate gesture, he hands me a dagger, sheathed in a simple leaf sheath. "Take this with you!"