Chapter 39: First Lesson — The Primordial Demons
The circular hall felt more like a jail than a place of study. The stone walls, covered in ancient frescoes, seemed to bleed under the bluish torchlight. The heavy draconic doors slammed shut behind us with a crash that reverberated in my chest. Thirteen heroes, lined up in a semicircle like convicts awaiting their sentence.
No one spoke. The silence was heavy, thick with mistrust. The dragons eyed us like sated predators, the elves stood stiff as ivory statues, the dwarves grunted into their beards but didn’t dare raise their voices. And us... the four human rags from Duskfall, eyes fixed on the dust, bitterness and yesterday’s paper still stuck to our guts.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the frescoes. The scenes carved into the stone depicted creatures so massive that even my breathing started to speed up. Faces, tears, gaping maws... it was as if the walls were watching us, ready to judge.
Thirteen heroes, lined up like the accused. And me... unable to tear my gaze away from the walls. The frescoes, there... they almost bled. As if they already knew what we were about to learn.
A sharp noise made me look up.
He entered.
A huge draconid, his gray scales veined with runes that glowed faintly, as if holding back an energy ready to explode. His curved horns framed his elongated face, and his dull-gold eyes shone with a carnivorous patience. He didn’t need to roar to command silence. His very breath already weighed like a threat.
He advanced slowly, his claws tracing metallic echoes against the stone. When he spoke, his voice rolled through the hall, deep, measured, but each word struck like a sentence.
— "I am Drah’Veynar Soltharys. History professor at the Academy."
He paused, his eyes sliding over us one by one, pressing on the back of our necks like an invisible weight.
— "My role is simple: to teach you about your enemies. Their powers. Their weaknesses. And above all... what you must never forget."
The silence thickened again as Drah’Veynar straightened his tall silhouette. His shadow covered almost half the circle. His scaly tail swept the floor with a dry sound, like a whip meant to snap our scattered attention into focus.
— "Today," he said in a slow voice, each syllable falling like an anvil, "we will speak of those who have haunted this world since time immemorial. The Seven Primordial Demons."
A chill ran through me in one block. My stomach clenched so hard it hurt.
Sarhael.
Just hearing that name, primordial, tightened my throat. The others must have seen it as a legend, an old story to swallow with the rest of the lecture. But me... I had seen him. Up close. Not in a damn book, not painted on a stone fresco. In flesh, in blood, in my nightmares. Sarhael wasn’t a tale. He was real, and he had sunk his claws into my fucking skull.
The professor let the silence hang, his golden gaze roaming slowly from one hero to the next, as if weighing our reactions, gauging who was afraid, who doubted, who was already boasting.
— "We know there are seven," he resumed finally, his voice rolling in the stone like an avalanche. "Seven abominations that have ruled these lands since the gods themselves ceased to tame them. But..." His thin, cruel smile revealed the tip of his fangs. "...we only know four of them."
He leaned slightly, his claws brushing the massive table between us.
— "So it is on them that our lesson will focus."
I swallowed, my mouth dry.
Four. Only four. And already, just thinking about one of them made me want to puke. So fuck... what would it be like when the other three crawled out of their holes?
— "The first primordial demon we will discuss is Veyra’Ghul, the Beast of a Thousand Mouths."
His voice rang in the stone like a funeral bell.
— "Imagine a formless, shifting mass, covered in gaping mouths. No two the same. Some scream like children, others like old men, others roar with the voices of warriors. This creature does not content itself with devouring flesh. It swallows matter, light, energy... even mana. Nothing escapes it."
A nervous murmur ran through the hall.
Devour mana itself? Fuck, and I thought I’d already seen horror with Sarhael...
The professor paused, then added in a heavy voice:
— "Chronicles say it swallowed, in a single night, a fortified dwarven city. When the dragons arrived on the scene... there was nothing left but void, and walls eaten away as if by cosmic acid."
To my left, Hikari cleared her throat timidly. Her voice, small, rose despite herself:
— "But... if it devours even mana... how do you fight it?"
The draconid’s golden eyes fixed on her. A brutal silence fell.
— "You don’t fight it." His voice snapped, precise. "You flee it."
The dwarves present clenched their jaws. I saw their fingers tremble, tight on their axes. They didn’t need words: the story hit their guts directly.
Drah’Veynar continued, relentless:
— "The second... is Azaroth, the Serpent of the Abysses."
A glacial shiver crawled up my spine. His tone, already heavy, grew almost ceremonial.
— "A draconic serpent, infinite, without beginning or end. It coils in the waters of this world, under our continents, and it devours memory and identity. Armies that face it do not die by steel. They forget. They forget why they are there, who they are, until they turn on each other."
I swore I saw Reina lift her head, icy, her voice slicing the air:
— "How do we know its power, if everyone forgets?"
The professor gave a brief smirk, as if savoring the question.
— "Very good question." He straightened to his full height. "After losing expedition after expedition without a single report, a common council of the races decided to build a recording device sealed with runes. The next expedition vanished, like all the others. But the device... it transmitted live the dissolution of memories. That is how we discovered Azaroth."
A frozen silence descended.
Erasing memories, just by moving in the water... fuck. And I complain about not knowing how to swim.
The professor continued without pity:
— "The third is called Mor’Khann, the Flayed Titan."
He leaned forward slightly, his claws scraping the stone table.
— "A colossus without skin. Its muscles and nerves are raw, pulsing, exposed. Every step makes its burning blood pour out and feed the earth. Its strength does not come from size, but from pain: it feels the pain of all beings around it, and sends it back amplified. The greater the suffering, the more unstoppable it becomes."
A grimace distorted the perfect features of an elf, who allowed himself a contemptuous smile.
— "But that’s only a legend, right?"
Drah’Veynar turned his head slowly toward him. His silence made the whole room hold its breath. Then he dropped, in a glacial tone:
— "Believe what you want. But the elves who saw it are no longer here to discuss it."
The scornful laugh choked off.
Finally, the professor lowered his voice, as if about to spit the name of a curse:
— "And the last, the most known to all of you... Sarhael, the Angel of Mourning."
My neck went cold.
— "A fallen angelic figure. Its black wings are full of holes, its bloody tears burn everything they touch: flesh, metal, stone. It embodies Mourning. Each stage traversed increases its power. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression... and finally acceptance. When it reaches it... it ceases to be an entity. It becomes an apocalypse."
A heavy cold crushed my shoulders. The words only confirmed what I had already seen, felt, lived.
Drah’Veynar added, implacable:
— "Chronicles say it single-handedly annihilated an elven kingdom, wiping out almost an entire lineage in a few days."
I couldn’t keep silent any longer. My throat was dry, but my voice came out hard, broken:
— "Does it have a weakness?"
The professor’s golden eyes fixed on me. His silence weighed on me heavier than a sledge. Then he replied, cutting:
— "No. None known."
I clenched my fists under the table. None known, huh? Fuck, that monster hadn’t shown us anything yet and it had massacred everyone in Duskfall so easily.
A heavy chuckle split the air. Not a genuine laugh: a rumble that vibrated like a hammer striking an anvil.
I turned my head.
Garrum Thalbruk. The draconid colossus, broad shoulders, skin studded with dull scales that seemed already to harden under his anger. His golden eyes clung to mine with a contempt that made me want to shove Aurelia between his teeth.
— "Obviously this Sarhael is weak," he spat, his deep voice echoing against the stone. "Since even pathetic humans like you at Duskfall made it flee."
Before I could answer, another voice cut the silence. Soft, but firm.
Sylvara.
She crossed her arms, her feline eyes flashing with an irritated light.
— "Stop, Garrum. Yesterday, we all understood they weren’t that weak. Why attack them again?"
A tense silence. Garrum spun toward her with a sharp movement. His already harsh features twisted with rage.
— "What?! You defend them... at my expense?!"
Sylvara didn’t flinch, but her gaze hardened.
— "It’s not that. But your contempt is ridiculous."
He snorted, a rumble that echoed in his lungs like a forge ready to blow. Then he growled, fangs bared.
— "In any case... shut up. Let the men talk among themselves."
His words slapped across the hall.
Miyu sprang up immediately, fists clenched, eyes blazing with raw anger.
— "Misogynist on top of it, huh? A real scumbag, this guy!"
A shocked silence fell. Garrum frowned, his jaw cracking.
— "Miso... what?!"
I burst out laughing despite myself. A nervous, uncontrollable bark that rang way too loud in that freezing hall. It hit my gut, made me cough almost, but fuck... I couldn’t stop.
He didn’t even understand the insult. This armored colossus, ready to swallow stone to turn into a fortress, incapable of grasping what was thrown in his face...
My laugh snapped again. And that angered him even more. His eyes ignited, his skin streaked with dark veins, as if the stone itself began to run under his flesh.
— "You laugh, pathetic human. I challenge you. Here. Now!"
He had risen, his immense mass casting an oppressive shadow over the hall. He drew his claws and scraped the table in front of him, a metallic sound that resonated like a threat.
Me? I stood up too. My heart pounded like a drum, but my voice came out clear, sharp:
— "Those pathetic humans... they’re the same who humiliated you in front of the whole Academy."
Silence. Heavy. All eyes fixed on us.
And there it was. It had to end like this. A history class... turned into a declaration of war. Fuck, I really had a knack for this.
A sharp thud made the floor vibrate. Drah’Veynar Soltharys had slammed his claw onto the stone. His golden gaze nailed us all, and his voice rolled, solemn, implacable:
— "Enough. Duels are permitted. You want to play at war? Fine. After class. In front of witnesses."
I froze, cold sweat down my back, but unable to take my eyes off Garrum. His chest rose and fell like a forge, his body already creaking under mineralization.
A duel. Me against a draconid heir.
I ground my teeth, the taste of iron in my mouth. And damn... I’d asked for a weakness for Sarhael. I guess I was going to have to find one for him.