Bloodlines Of The Ancient Pantheons - Chapter 635

“Um? And who is that?” Bloodfang mumbled, growling in that direction and attracting the attention of Kranus, who was talking to him a few seconds earlier.

The eyes of Freydis, Reidar and the two leaders of Krypstorm’s major Clans remained focused on that ambiguous figure, who seemed to have come out of nowhere.

The hooded man stood still in the middle of the street, but when he made sure all four of them were looking at him, regardless of all the other people on the streets of Klorr, he took off his hood, revealing his true appearance.

Long, silky smooth, night-black hair fell in gravity downwards, touching the final part of his back, and his white face rose under the yellow light of torches attached to the walls of the city’s palaces.

His skin was whitest than that of a dead body. However, the distinctive traits that made him easily distinguishable were his penetrating and glassy purple eyes, wide open toward the four warriors in front of him.

Moments after seeing those eyes, Freydis immediately pulled out her spear, and Reidar held an arrow over his bow, pointing it at the man.

“Grrr…” Bloodfang’s recognizable roar rumbled through the streets of Klorr and ended up irreparably attracting the gaze of all the soldiers who were around at that time of night, enjoying that quiet atmosphere.

The Claws Of Fenrir’s werewolves approached the man by stealthily walking behind him, and within seconds, a dozen of them surrounded him, sensing that their leader had recognized that man as a danger.

The silence lasted for another long and interminable seconds, until Kranus, with one hand behind his back and the other clasping on his staff, stepped forward, positioning himself in front of his companions, ready to interface with the stranger who had all the air of being a Xis.

“Hi,” exclaimed the ice mage with a solemn expression.

The man sighed deeply, looking around and back, intimidating all of Bloodfang’s men only with his appearance, which made him as terrifying as death itself.

His long black hair followed every movement of his neck and it was so smooth and perfect that it looked fake. However, his hands and arms were still hidden under the long sleeves of the long black dress, stretched out along his hips.

“I note with amazement that great progress has been made in this part of the planet. A city rebuilt in just over 40 of your days, without the help of technology. That’s… remarkable”, the man said, in a voice too deep to be human.

“Klorr was rebuilt with the sweat of our men, who after years and years of exile, reconquered what once belonged to our Clans. Now, can I know who you are and why did you come here?” Kranus continued, who intended to address a peaceful discourse with that terrifying humanoid monster, which exuded pure wickedness.

“Skjold is the only planet on which we have been forced to set foot. It has never happened, in thousands of years, that our personal intervention was needed, you know?” the Xis replied, turning left and beginning to walk, heading towards the front of one of the buildings overlooking the street. “However, it seems that not even one of my trusted servants was able to accomplish the mission for which he had been sent here. What a shame. I apologize for his incompetence.”

Bloodfang’s men, though in stark numerical superiority, recalling what Dag’s last Xis had been capable of, stepped back as soon as they saw that the black-haired man was walking.

“Your calculations were wrong then” Freydis exclaimed, taking courage and forcibly entering into the conversation between the Xis and Kranus, who, as soon as he heard those words, made a gesture with his hand towards her, ordering her to be silent.

The Xis stopped immediately at the steps leading to the private house to which he was walking. Two large rectangular vases adorned a small porch that served to beautify the street.

“Mhmhmh…” the white-skinned man malignantly chuckled, “our calculations were wrong,” he said, continuing to smile, as one hand stretched out towards the coloured flowers beneath his eyes.

“We know what you are, and we know your power. Please tell us your name,” Kranus replied, trying to erase Freydis’ last words by repeating his request.

“The name… you human beings are obsessed with ‘names’, right? Your limited minds give forced names to everything, to every person, to every inanimate object, as if there were a need to catalogue everything and find out how it can be exploited as you please. I don’t have a name, just a role, a task. When they turn to me, they call me ‘the Overseer’.”

The enemy’s words echoed among the crowd of fearful warriors, making Bloodfang’s ears vibrate, who remained silent to restrain his anger, knowing that if he attacked that Xis, he would probably cause the deaths of dozens of his loyal soldiers.

“We know the real reason that drove you here, Overseer. I’m afraid you’re wasting your time,” Reidar exclaimed, taking the reins of the speech and positioning himself next to Kranus, storing the Failnaught and sticking the arrow in the quiver.

The Xis’s hand gently vented the petal of a yellow flower that stood out in the vase more than its own kind, rising upwards. Reidar’s words were accompanied by a long silence, during which the Xis seemed to dissociate himself from their dialogue, devoting all his attention to that flower.

When his snow-white finger moved away from the petal, the flower began to close on itself: all the petals rolled inwards and, under the astonished eyes of those who could see that scene, that ‘Crocus’, a typical winter flower, returned to the ground that had given birth to it, as if it was living its life in reverse, returning to being a seed that has not yet blossomed.

“Even time is just a foolish convention of yours. By dividing it into seconds, minutes, hours and days, you think you can manipulate it, but you can’t. Time exists, but it can only command, not be commanded.”