The Chronicles of Marum - The Primordial

Dawn: The Refinement of the Forest (Críngu) - Part I

ACT I

I observe the green field before me, where the soft grass stretches like a cloak under my feet. The air is impregnated with the sweet aroma of roses and orchids blooming everywhere, their enchanting fragrances intertwining and enveloping me, transporting me to a world of tranquility and natural beauty. The gentle wind, as it blows, carries with it the whisper of the leaves of nearby trees, orchestrating a natural symphony that calms the soul.

"I cannot fail," I think, feeling the weight of responsibility. "I will do everything in my power to prepare Bucu and Gálidus for the upcoming confrontation. They need to understand the importance of discipline and strategy." This thought consumes me, reflecting the important task delegated by Zulfiqar.

Bucu, rising from the lawn, fixes his bright, penetrating emerald eyes on me. His olive-toned skin, marked by exposure to the sun and wind, is the perfect counterpoint to his strong, well-defined features. The prominent chin and thin, firm lips give him an air of seriousness.

His black hair, falling in disordered layers over his forehead, frames an expression that rarely reveals what it hides behind his sharp gaze. His body, although covered in light armor, reveals a slender but firm build. He is a silhouette of quiet power, whose presence is as solid as the ground he stands on.

"Do you really want to fight me and Gálidus alone?" He asks. His eyebrow raised in a perfect arch adds a layer of curiosity to his already intense expression.

He wears armor that is an extension of his connection with nature; its green plates mimic the robustness and color of fresh leaves, enhanced by brown veins that intertwine like wild vines along his trunk and arms. The shoulders are adorned with a tangle of living foliage, giving the impression that the forest itself forged this protection for him. The gloves are robust and end in his free fingers, allowing his hand's dexterity to be maintained without sacrificing defense. Elegant yet formidable, the armor balances the lightness of natural growth with the need for protection in battle.

"Don't worry about me," I reply, allowing a confident smile to light up my face, and start to stretch. "I'm here to prepare you for the imminent war. Until then, your focus must be total on training." My voice carries a tone of seriousness, aware of the gravity of the task I have assumed. "As I couldn't accompany Ózis to Arcríris and Zulfiqar is busy, it's up to me to train you."

Facing two gods alone would be a risky feat for many, but I, Críngu, am no ordinary god. I remember the intense days in Salacrum, where each training shaped my body and spirit, forging exceptional endurance and speed. Far from having a bulky physique, my body is sculpted in athletic and defined lines, a reflection of iron discipline.

Memories of training with the original gods, especially with Ózis and Tanri, flood my mind. It was there that I acquired the esteemed power of telekinesis, a skill few gods possess. I remember the weight of responsibility that this power carries, and the electrifying sensation of energy flowing through me, controlling the environment around me with a mere thought.

"Unlike Zulfiqar, my trainings are intense combats, which persist until total exhaustion or serious injuries," I report, with a firm voice. I observe Gálidus's yawn, not with irritation, but with the understanding that words were not enough. With an assertive hand gesture, I decide: "Enough words. Let's warm up, adjust the armors and choose the weapons."

Before us, three weapons rest.

There being only three weapons.
The first is a long vine whip, its surface interwoven with a gleaming ebony shell, showcasing its robustness and deadly flexibility. It seems to vibrate with latent energy, as if longing to be wielded in combat.