The Primordial Tongue
"Welcome to my humble abode," Selarin said softly. But to her, this truly was a sanctuary, an archive she had built over centuries. She stepped forward, trailing her finger across the surface of a nearby table. Not a single speck of dust marred its polished finish.
"Abode?... This is an entire empire of books!" Liora exclaimed, nearly bouncing with excitement. She wanted to dive into the shelves that loomed around her, but she realized she was just a slave in this medieval world.
Lame.
It wasn't much different from corporate slavery, really, but still, was she supposed to play the loyal lapdog to a woman she'd only just met?
"Yes," Selarin said, "but an empire I did not build myself..."
"You didn't?"
"No. When I was a girl, I was merely the daughter of an emperor whose sole purpose was conquest. But humanity found a new way to resist us through knowledge. While we relied solely on our natural affinity for strength, they studied, adapted, and learned," she explained. "And even now, little has changed. The people of the Elarion Empire still worship power over wisdom."
"Pfft," Liora nearly snorted before catching herself and coughing awkwardly.
"It's alright, dear. Speak as crudely as you like."
Liora raised an eyebrow. For someone raised under the weight of tradition and the ideology of power, Selarin didn't carry herself like someone molded by such values.
Her demeanor was almost... disarmingly informal.
"If I can speak as crudely as I like, then it's my turn to ask you something," Liora said, settling into a nearby seat. "Why are you different?"
There was a long pause. The older woman approached a shelf, gently pulling out a worn book and brushing her fingers over its cover.
"As the saying goes in Elarion... even a sword can forget the sound of war if left in silence long enough."
Her first instinct was to raise a finger. "What does th—"
"Behave," Selarin cut in smoothly, already anticipating the girl's reaction. Liora simply asked far too many questions. "Less talking, more reading, my dear disciple."
"Yes, ma'am!"
That was enough to make her sit down, though it clearly amused Selarin.
Dear gods, she may have gained more than just a disciple.
Before they went any further, a fresh set of ground rules was laid out, mostly for Liora's safety (and maybe Selarin's sanity).
First: No one could know about her immortality. To demons, that screamed either "experiment" or "weapon."
Second: She had to switch identities every sixty to eighty years. Immortality wasn't exactly low-profile.
Third: Wandering the estate was off-limits. In the Elarion Empire, a slave was expected to be seen only beside their master, preferably with their mouth shut and hands full of chores.
Fourth: Absolutely no one could know she was Selarin's disciple. Forming an alliance with a human? Illegal. Blasphemous. Scandalous.
Liora was beginning to think this gig came with more fine print than her old company contracts.
But that wasn't even the nightmare.
The real horror was learning the language of the Empire like she got drop kicked into kindergarten!
It felt like cruel, academic edging.
She couldn't read a single thing until she mastered this overly complex script. And it had already been eight hours of brain-melting torture.
"Z... Z...arakh t-tor el'kaar... n-nalaar... What?..." She squinted like the page had personally wronged her.
"No, no," Selarin corrected patiently. "Consonant-vowel flow. Zarakh tor el'kaar nalaar. Now, what does it mean?"
"The general binds his soul to the empire?" she guessed hesitantly.
"Correct. Very good," Selarin said, giving her a gentle pat on the head.
She flinched. She wasn't a child, so why the hell was she getting head-pats?! Gross.
...Okay, maybe not gross. Maybe a tiny part of her melted a little.
To be fair, Selarin was over eight hundred years old. It was a grandmotherly gesture. Totally acceptable. Probably.
"I'll leave you to it for now."
"B-But—"
Selarin didn't even hesitate. She turned on her heel and left.
What was the point of making her a disciple if this was how she was treated?!
Liora groaned and turned back to the book.
It was the introductory guide to Akarin, the Abyssal Script and Language of the Elarion Empire, also known as the primordial tongue.
The pages were filled with strange, ancient runes:
"ᚣᚨᚱᚨᚲ"
"ᚾᚨᛚᚨᚱ"
"ᛖᛚᚲᚨᚱ"
"ᚲᚨᚱᚢᚾᚷ"
"ᚡᚨᚺᛉᛁᚾ"
"ᚱᛖᚦᚨᚲ"
"ᛚᚢᚺᚨᚱ"
I feel like an Asian kid all over again, forced to read the moment I popped out of my mother's womb…
At least she'd managed to memorize how some of the words sounded.
She was also made to write them over and over as if hammering the strange script into her brain would somehow make it stick.
"I HATE THIS!"
⬧︎[] System Notification []
⬧︎[] +1 EXP earned []
⬧︎[] You survived another uneventful day, mostly spent overstudying. Progress is progress! []
⬧︎[] Progress: 3/100 EXP to Level 2 []
So cruel.
She would've absolutely adored those gold-star stamps they gave kindergartners for good behavior. If only they stuck them on her hand instead.
"I should probably sleep…"
But in the end, exhaustion won, and she collapsed face-first onto the table.
***
"KYAAAAAAA!"
'W-What?!'
Liora was instantly awake, the sudden scream cutting through her sleep.
The sunlight hit her eyes, forcing her to squint against the brightness. How long had she been out?
Rubbing her eyes, she saw a red-haired girl with ponytails, clad in a maid outfit, standing before her.
"A-A HUMAN!"
Was this the maid Selarin mentioned? And why was she screaming like she'd just spotted a cockroach?
"I'm a human, not an insect!" Liora shot back, trying to defend herself.
"Humans are insects!" the maid declared without hesitation.
Liora's eye twitched.
Honestly, looking down at her dirt-streaked robe and scrawny frame, she couldn't exactly argue.
She did look like every other lowly slave. Selarin was also a jerk by forcing her to study while she was starving and dirty.
"You look like a ladybug yourself," Liora clicked her tongue, clearly pissed off.
"S-Say that again?!" The maid stepped forward, sleeves rolled up, ready to throw down.
"Silence!" A man suddenly stepped in.
He was clearly the butler with his monocle and crisp formal suit.
His skin was purple, his eyes yellow with black sclera, and a neatly trimmed beard framed his face.
And.... a tail?
⬧︎[] SYSTEM NOTIFICATION []
⬧︎[] Race Identified: VYRDRAEL []
⬧︎[] Classification: Mid-Tier Demon Race []
⬧︎[] Lineage: Common Infernal Bloodline []
⬧︎[] Traits:
Adaptive Physiology
Enhanced Agility
Basic Dark Essence Manipulation
Resilient Constitution []
⬧︎[] Rarity: Most Common Demon Race []
⬧︎[] Notable Lore: The Vyrdraels are the backbone of the demon populace, known for their versatility and numbers. While lacking the grandeur of higher-ranked demons, their strength lies in their adaptability and relentless persistence within the Infernal hierarchy. []