Fenric's destiny

Fenric sat in deep thought, the weight of recent events pressing heavily on his mind. He had always felt like an outcast, burdened by the whispers and harsh words of those around him. Yet, as he sat by the edge of the cliff, overlooking the vast city below, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm. The night was still, with only the occasional rustling of leaves to break the silence.

A familiar voice broke his reverie. "You shouldn't let their insults get to you," Fargo said, leaning casually against a nearby tree trunk. Her presence was a welcome distraction. Fenric turned his head, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, he felt a surge of relief. He hadn't realized how much he needed someone to talk to.

"Mind if I sit?" Fargo asked, her tone gentle yet firm.

Fenric nodded slowly, gesturing to the spot beside him. She sat down gracefully, her eyes scanning the city below. "What a view," she remarked, her voice filled with quiet admiration.

Fenric nodded again, a faint smile playing on his lips. "My grandma used to bring me here every night before she became ill," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. Memories of those nights flooded his mind, bringing with them a bittersweet sense of joy.

Fargo looked at him, her expression softening. "You know, you're special," she said. "More special than anyone else. That's why they're jealous of you."

Fenric turned to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. He wasn't sure if he believed her. "You don't know what you're talking about," his expression seemed to say.

But Fargo was undeterred. "I have my reasons," she continued. "You were close to the greatest warrior this kingdom has ever known. She saw something in you that others didn't. That's why you were her favorite."

Fenric's gaze softened, and he nodded slowly. The words struck a chord within him, resonating with the memories of his grandmother. Fargo's hand rested briefly on his shoulder. "Don't let their words get to you. They're just jealous," she said before standing up.

"Thank you," Fenric whispered as she walked away. Her words had lifted a weight off his chest, if only slightly.

As the night deepened, a familiar voice echoed beside him. "What Fargo said is true," the voice whispered. Fenric froze, his heart racing. He recognized that voice—his grandmother's voice.

"Grandma?" he called out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope.

From the shadows, her spirit materialized, her form faint and ethereal. "You never forgot my voice, did you, moonpie?" she said with a soft smile. Fenric reached out to hug her, but his arms passed through her spectral form.

"There's a mission before you, Fenric," she said, her tone serious. "A mission that involves saving the universe."

Fenric looked down, doubt clouding his mind. "I'm not strong, Grandma. I'm the weakest of them all," he confessed.

His grandmother chuckled softly, her laughter light and reassuring. "Strength isn't just about muscles and power," she said. "It's about strategy and heart. You have both."

Fenric's curiosity was piqued. "What is this mission about?" he asked.

She sighed, her expression darkening. "Remember my duel with Saturn? I tried to defeat him using guile and cunning, but he's a greedy god. His thirst for power knows no bounds. He plans to provoke the Earth God, expand his kingdom, and eliminate all who stand in his way. He wants to rule the galaxy, and the other gods are powerless against him."

Fenric's heart sank. "If the gods can't defeat him, how can I?" he asked, feeling overwhelmed.

His grandmother's gaze softened. "Because you're destined for greatness," she said. "You have the strength within you."

Fenric looked at her, his mind racing with questions. "What about the sword you gave me?" he asked.

"It's a magical sword," she explained. "A gift from Saturn himself. It's powerful enough to kill even the mightiest of gods with a single touch."

With that, she began to fade away. "Remember, Fenric, you're stronger than you think," she whispered before disappearing into the night.

Fenric sat in silence, the weight of his destiny pressing heavily on his shoulders. He knew this might be his last night in Saltin, and the thought filled him with a mix of fear and determination. He needed to escape, find allies, and prepare for the battle ahead.

****

The camp was bustling with activity. Soldiers hurriedly packed their weapons and supplies, their movements swift and precise. General Ashcroft's voice boomed across the camp. "Move it, all of you! Load your guns, pack your bags, gather your swords! The ship leaves in thirty minutes!"

Fenric, clad in his armor, joined the ranks. General Ashcroft greeted him with a nod. "Welcome to the fleet, Sir Fenric," he said. The ship was a massive vessel, capable of carrying a hundred soldiers. As Fenric stepped inside, he felt a surge of adrenaline. This was it—the beginning of his journey.

The ship's engines roared to life, and soon, they were airborne. The fleet, consisting of ten ships, ascended into the sky, their destination unknown. Fenric couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. The road ahead was uncertain, but he knew he had a mission to fulfill.

****

Meanwhile, Jack was on his own journey. After managing to sneak out of the warehouse, he wandered the streets in search of Elisa. His search led him to the Red Faction, but she was nowhere to be found. Exhausted and hungry, he decided to head home.

As he walked, he couldn't help but notice the disapproving glances from passersby. His school uniform was dirty and disheveled, a stark contrast to the pristine appearance expected of students. Despite the stares, he pressed on, determined to find solace in the familiar comforts of home.

But Elisa wasn't there either. With a heavy sigh, Jack decided to call it a night. He collapsed onto his bed, the events of the day weighing heavily on his mind. Little did he know, his journey was just beginning, and the challenges ahead would test his resolve in ways he could never have imagined.