ROTLE- Chapter 160- Sinepore

Sinepore was tired. So very tired.

It had been so long, too long to remember. He had lived through more than five civilizations. Once upon a time, he had been young, beautifully young. He had soared through the skies, basking in the agility that came with youth.

Now, here he was, older, too old. Waiting to die.

Sinepore sighed, the air that left his nostrils was like a geyser. With age had come size. Like most people in the old world knew, with dragons, age came with power and size. A dragon that had been given the chance of seeing far too many civilizations rise and fall was a little too large.

Settling his head on its arms in front of him, he turned his attention to the only thing in the mountain that ensured that he remain here.

Sinepore turned his head, set his gaze outwards. There was an opening in the mountain he had made his nest in, a large mouth, like some giant creature’s maw. Once upon a time princes and knights and adventurers and kings had walked through the opening seeking to make a name for themselves with its death.

Those had been fun times. Terrifying times, but fun times. Sinepore still had a scar or two from the encounters. His oldest scar was over a thousand years old, though. Far too long ago.

These thoughts brought Sinepore some sorrow. A young and vibrant dragon once, taking to the sky and rebelling like any dragon would love to, now he was old. The oldest living dragon.

I should not have made him my friend, he thought, still staring into the sky beyond its nest. I should’ve run when he offered his hand.

It pained Sinepore to remember the past, to remember the man with grey in his eyes and night on his skin.

He had come far too many years ago while Sinepore had still been a young dragon, intelligent as dragons are even if barely five years old.

He had walked into the island Sinepore had lived within with nothing but an empty expression and a complete lack of care in his steps. Upon his back, he had carried a spear head almost as long as he was tall and as large as his own width.

Dragons had flown around him, and he had ignored them. This had been in a time when the humanoid races had been scarce, few in number. A time before they had become things that liked to procreate like things that knew nothing more than the act of procreation.

The easy grace and absence of fear in the man’s gait and very being should’ve been the first sign that Sinepore should stay away. The man had been human, after all, and humans long ago had possessed a natural fear of things too big. Even the giants feared the older dragons for their size.

This had been in a time before the trait [Curse of Humanity] had been a thing spread amongst almost all the humanoid yet non-human species. A time when humans were at the bottom of the food chain.

Yet, this man had walked through the forest of the island, never raising a hand to move aside the leaves or cowering when a dragon flew a little too close.

I was young, Sinepore thought. Young and stupid.

He could still remember how the younger dragons had done nothing but fly around the man. The older dragons had kept their distance. Perhaps that was something else that should’ve told him not to venture close. When the powerful are wary, it was always a sign.

But he was young and rash, careless. While his peers had flown around and occasionally tried to frighten the man with dropped rocks that landed just far enough, he had flown all the way down to the ground, hitting the dirt like a meteor.

The man had stopped, taken a moment to look at him. Words that had sounded like nothing but arrogance the first time Sinepore had heard them had grown to mean so much more over the years.

“You,” the man with grey in his eyes had said, after a while. “You will do.”

Sinepore had cocked his head, a youngling interested in a human’s complete absence of fear. Until this day, Sinepore still wondered if he had been chosen for him or if he had simply been chosen because the man could choose anyone.

But on that day, those words had been nothing but an interesting utterance from a simple human.

Young and foolish, he thought to himself. I should’ve run.

The memory remained so clear in Sinepore’s head. He could still envision it, he could still see the man as he had unstrapped the spear head from his back and dropped it carelessly on the ground like something insignificant.

“You will protect this with your life,” he had said, looking at him.

“And if I do not?” Sinepore had asked.

Expressionless, the man’s answer had been simple. “Then you will be nothing more than a dragon that will grow old and die and never be remembered.”

Sinepore had been insulted, but not so much that it would kill the man. He had flapped his wings, instead, tormenting the man with a massive gust of wind. The man had batted it all aside with a random wave of his hand, like a human chasing a fly away or an elder dragon chasing a human away.

That had been Sinepore’s sign. But it had been too late. The man had chosen his target. That was all it had taken… arrogance and a wrong encounter.

Leaving the spearhead on the ground, the man had turned and simply walked away, as if uninterested in the events that had just transpired. Just as nobody had known how he had gotten to the island, no one had known how he’d left.

Arrogant and stupid but not without a lick of sense, Sinepore had not touched the spearhead. He had not obeyed the man. Without wasting his time, he had returned to the sky, joked with his peers about how the human was strange and without fear. How the human was interesting. But he had not told them of his own fears of a human batting his gust of wind with a casual wave, for even dragons knew shame.

When he had returned to his small, inconsequential nest, he had found the spearhead waiting patiently for him, lying discarded on the ground as the man had left it in the soil.

It had been there the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

Then Sinepore had picked it up and it had never left.

He sighed as he looked through the horde of treasures in his nest. He called them treasures, but in truth, they were nothing but trinkets and things left behind by those who came seeking his life only to lose theirs. They were an amalgamation of things offered to him by those who had come to live on the island where he had finally made his nest so that he did not one day decide to kill them.

The only real treasure here was a dull piece of spearhead that had once been as large as his feet but was now barely the size of his toe.

Oh, he thought solemnly, looking at it, how I’ve grown.

But it was interesting how life worked. Even after the man had abandoned the spearhead to him, as the years went by, he visited every now and again. Eyes still grey and skin still dark, he would check on Sinepore.

Once, he had come during an invasion that had cost the lives of a few young dragons, arriving just in time to save Sinepore. With a flick of the wrist, giants had died like felled trees. That had been the man’s first true display of power in Sinepore’s eyes. Giants with classes as powerful as the [Mage] class had died without question or a chance to consider living.

Standing amidst a sea of giant and dragon corpses, the man had looked up at him and said, “Be strong.” He had leaned in, looked Sinepore in the bleeding eye. “Be strong, because even the gods want you now.”

So Sinepore had grown to be strong. In the earlier years, he never took the spearhead with him. When he changed nests, he left it behind, knowing that it would be waiting for him wherever he ended up. He fought, and grew, and survived. He crossed the world, venturing into places where he was not even supposed to be able to. Then, he grew attached, and began taking it with him.

All to protect a dull grey spearhead that looked completely unimportant if not for its size. Slowly, he had become arguably the most powerful thing to exist on Nastild. He had survived the harsh conditions of being hunted and vexing humanoids that had somehow grown to be more powerful than a simple dragon until he was more powerful than even they.

Sinepore had grown to stand at the precipice of power. Unchallenged to the point that even the kings and the knights and the powerful that came seeking his life stopped.

Then, over a thousand years ago, he had met a man.

He had met a [Sage].

In truth, he should’ve known better. In all his years alive, he had never seen a species so beautiful in how great and cruel they are than humans. The species knew nothing of moderation. They were nothing but extremes. They wielded kindness so great that they could console the universe if it mourned and bring it peace.

In the same breath, they embodied evil so grand that they undo the world simply because it made them feel powerful.

If there was a species capable of rivaling the gods, given time, it was the human race. After all, some of them had grown to be the very gods that they were supposed to fear.

What did I expect from a species capable of cursing all others by simply existing.

[Curse of Humanity].

It had come as no surprise to him that the [Sage] was human. A being so powerful that seeing his existence had sent tremors through Sinepore’s spine over a thousand years ago. He did not know if the [Sage] had been looking for him or not. What he did know, however, was that the [Sage] had taken one look at the spearhead and wanted it.

Sinepore had fought his best, surviving only by the skin of his teeth. Then he had hidden, never venturing, never seeking. He had hidden like a child who’d watched their entire familiar get slaughtered by a being too powerful to even look at.

It had taken him a while before he had eventually come out of hiding, a time long enough for humans to die. But while he would’ve liked to believe that he had pulled himself out of his fear, it was not the case. A fear greater than the [Sage] had dragged him out of hiding.

The man with grey eyes and the night for flesh had come to him and reminded him that there were degrees to fear.

“What you hold,” he had said before leaving him once more, “is a piece of reality. A true piece of reality.”

And so, understanding that he would one day have to face the gods, Sinepore had remembered why he had learnt and grown and survived, and he resumed it.

It was not two hundred years after coming out of hiding when he met the [Sage] once more. At first, fear had taken him as they had clashed. A human was not supposed to live so long. But as they fought, Sinepore found himself stronger than this [Sage], more powerful. It wasn’t by much, but it was by enough.

Enough to win.

It was another five hundred years after that when he found this island. It had taken him a while, but with knowledge gained over years so great that he had witnessed the rise and fall of more than enough civilizations and the deaths of more than enough [Demon King]s, he hid this island away from the rest of the world—from the rest of reality.

Even the gods could not find him, greater or lesser.

Often times he had wondered why the man with grey eyes did not come once again to force him out of this island. He liked to think that if he had discovered a way to hide from the [Sage] and the gods, then maybe he had discovered a way to hide from the man, too.

In truth, he believed it was not the case. He believed that the man could find him anytime he wanted to. The reason the man had not come for him was because there was no need. The reason the man had not forced him out of hiding was because he was not hiding. He had lived and grown and survived. Now, he was merely resting.

He wondered now what would happen the next time he was forced to move. How would the world react to a dragon the size of a mountain flying in its skies, especially since the division of the world?

Sinepore looked down at the piece of reality that had changed his life and knew that the time was coming soon. Around two months ago, the piece of reality had changed its form. What had once been a dull grey spearhead that had gone through wars and life, had morphed into a dull grey great sword complete with a hilt that had come from where he did not know.

And he knew for a fact that his followers at the foot of his nest were not responsible for it. Since the spearhead had been entrusted to him, no creature that was not a dragon had touched it. His followers knew better than to try as it was his one rule. Besides, they could not venture into his nest without his knowledge, even if he was dead.

So, what changed? He asked himself. It was a question he had been asking himself for the past two months.

But it mattered naught now. Now, he had greater questions to ask himself, like when would he have to face the gods and the [Sage] for four days ago, it had given off a powerful energy strong enough to shake the entire mountain and almost undo the power that kept the island concealed.

Sinepore moved his finger and scraped the tiny sword that had once been a spearhead on the ground observing another change that had taken place since it had become a sword. The weapon did not move. For all his size and power, against his entire might, it had become an immovable object.

There was nothing that would move the piece of reality from where it was, and something told him that if he left this time, it would not follow him. It ensured one truth; he had nowhere to go.

When the gods and the [Sage] came, this island would be a battlefield.

Or I could just let them have it.

Sinepore burst into sudden laughter. It was the sound of thunder crackling and violence among the gods. It was a sound that shook the very nature of everything.

Let them have it? he chuckled to himself. Impossible.

This time, it was not about the man with grey eyes. It was about him. He had lived a life too long and grown too powerful to simply roll over and die. His life was dedicated to the weapon. If anyone wanted to take it, they would have to pry it from his cold, dead corpse.

“Lord Sinepore.”

Sinepore paused, frowned, then turned his head in the direction of the entrance to his cave. There was a girl standing there, by dragon kin years, she was no more than eight years.

“Yes, girl?” he said, using the voice he reserved for the lesser species.

The girl was on one knee. “Is everything alright? Have you been offended?”

Sinepore sighed. The problem with being viewed as a god was that even the most insignificant action was viewed as something with meaning to your worshippers. If you blinked, they sought a hidden meaning to it.

“I am fine,” he answered, turning away from the girl.

Childlike in her own way, the girl walked over to his claw and rubbed it with her hand very soothingly. In comparison, one of his claws was four times the size of a full-grown adult on the island.

The dragon kin on this island had once been human. And like the human species, they still possessed a propensity to console existence if it mourned. After all, the girl was no more than a child seeking to console her god.

Sinepore held back a sigh. He had one rule on the island, and it was that they not touch the spearhead. So the inhabitants were free to do as they pleased. One of such things they pleased to do was grant him a priestess. Every generation, they would present to him a child that would stand and keep him company. Her life would be devoted to him until the day she died.

He guessed it did not help matters that every child that had been dedicated to him had gained the class of [Priest] when they gained their interface, or that they had become greatly powerful in the class.

Sinepore assumed they gave him a female because he was male since they also forbade the female from keeping male company or breeding. Ultimately, they doomed the females to a life of loneliness where they had nothing but a dragon for their friend and companion.

Areala was new, recently placed at his cave since the passing of Nelle last month. Sinepore cared nothing for them now. Once upon a time, he had thought to befriend these women only to find that all it did was hurt him. They all, all of them, eventually died, and their deaths left him in sorrow. Now, he let them do whatever they pleased.

The inhabitants of the island fed and clothed them and gave them the grandest house, and they were allowed to have friends of the same gender. Over the years some had developed romantic feelings with the same gender from what Sinepore knew. Not all of them acted on those feelings, though.

The child, Areala, was still stroking his claw when Sinepore closed his eyes.

Perhaps he should put some things in place to ensure the survival of the inhabitants when the gods, [Sage] or both came.

Maybe…

Then again, what would he do if the person that came was able to move the spearhead that was now a sword?

What would he do if the owner of the piece of reality came?