The Multiverse Hunter

The faint burn mark on the priest's forehead began to glow—softly, almost reverently. A pale ethereal light radiated from the scar like a divine whisper only a few could see.

Ali's eyes locked on it.

Ignus quickly reached up, his fingers trembling as he let his hair fall back over the mark, hiding it once again. His breath caught in his throat.

Then—

"Have you made a decision?" Ignus asked, his tone shifting into something hopeful, a nervous smile on his lips.

Ali didn't smile back.

He simply snapped his fingers.

WHOOM.

The air stirred violently as if the entire forest inhaled. Winds whipped the trees in a wild spiral as the clouds above parted like curtains pulled by an unseen hand.

Ignus looked up—and froze.

His jaw slackened.

Two massive dragons descended from the heavens, their wings stretching wide enough to darken the sunlight. The earth quaked under their landing. Their enormous bodies curved protectively behind Ali, wings folding like living fortresses. Smoke billowed gently from their nostrils, and both dragons lowered their heads to flank Ali's sides—one on the left, one on the right.

Ali stepped forward, casting a long shadow over the priest.

"My name is Ali," he said, his voice cold and firm. "I am a baron—for now. If you swear your loyalty to me, I will see to it that you reclaim your place in the Church… and exact your revenge on those who threw you to the wild."

His black eyes drilled into Ignus's sky-blue ones, piercing them without force, but with absolute certainty.

Ignus saw more than just a man.

He saw a titan. A ruler in the making. Someone who was writing history, not just surviving it.

His answer didn't need thought.

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

"Kneel," Ali commanded.

The dragons let out low, rumbling growls that shook the leaves above them. It wasn't aggression—it was acknowledgment. Warning. Witness.

Ignus dropped to both knees, lowering his head deeply.

"I swear by the True Flame my unconditional loyalty to my lord, Ali," he said solemnly, invoking the ancient liturgical cadence burned into his soul during years of training in the capital.

Ali raised a single finger—and lifted him with the Force, standing the priest upright without so much as a touch.

"Eldora will take you close to Obidos," Ali said. "You'll stay there until the war ends. Once I've taken Obidos, you'll be appointed High Priest over my lands. Be ready."

Ignus's eyes widened at the declaration.

'Take Obidos…? He's entering the war?'

"Yes, my lord," Ignus nodded, masking his shock. His gaze shifted toward the elegant green dragon, now crouched and watching with sharp, unreadable eyes.

But Ali raised a hand again.

"Wait," he said.

Ignus stopped. "Lord?"

Ali stepped closer.

"A priest who returns unscathed while his companions are dead is a suspicious priest," Ali said. "They'll question you. They may accuse you. The town won't welcome that kind of survivor."

With a swift motion, Ali gripped the robe on Ignus's right arm and ripped it open, leaving it frayed and torn as if shredded by a beast.

Ignus nodded, understanding. "You're right. I would look suspicious… What do you suggest?"

Ali's black eyes gleamed with a dangerous calm as he raised his index finger, a slight grin on his face.

"Bite down on this." He held out the shredded cloth.

Ignus obeyed, teeth clenched tightly around the fabric, eyes shut in anticipation.

"This is going to hurt," Ali said calmly. "But it's only a flesh wound. One that'll look far worse than it is."

ZZZZZZZZZ.

A bright red spark ignited at Ali's fingertip. His control over the voltage was precise, masterful. The flame wasn't fire—it was refined pain.

MMMMMMMGH.

Ignus choked on his scream as Ali dragged the spark down his arm, creating a ragged, open wound that traced all the way across his chest. Blood flowed, but the flesh wasn't charred—Ali had used just enough current to rupture skin and vessels, but leave the burn superficial. Painful, raw, believable.

Ignus collapsed to one knee, panting.

HEH. HEH. HEHEHEHE…

His laughter was part shock, part delirium, part respect.

"You can go now," Ali said, taking a step back. "Start the act once you've reached Obidos."

Eldora extended her claw with grace. Ignus flinched at the size, but didn't resist as the claw gently but firmly closed around his body.

Ali's voice rang out one last time as Eldora took flight.

"Oh, and Ignus—know this…"

He looked up.

"You swore loyalty to a dragon. If you ever break that oath…"

Ali's tone went ice cold.

"Your death will be painful, and slow. Very slow."

Ignus shivered even as the wind carried him into the clouds.

Ali stood in the silence left behind. He turned back toward the edge of the crater, where piles of loot lay gathered—steel, silver, weapons, armour.

But the real treasure hadn't been the gold.

It was Ignus.

A man with Origin.

Ali's black eyes narrowed as he stared at the swirling remnants of his own beam of destruction. His thoughts turned inward.

"This was a good haul", Ali said looking at the pile of loot at the edge of the hole, but he truly meant finding Ignus who could help him greatly and he's another character with great Origin, 'People with Origin are basically either treasures or disasters, Fiona is the perfect example…', Ali thought.

His eyes went to a message he got from Jacob in the capital, 'She's closer to disaster for me right now…', Ali thought reading the long message from Jacob.

An hour later, Abeloth and Eldora soared over the twin mountains that marked the heart of Ali's territory, their vast wings casting long shadows across the valley below. Ali lay on Abeloth's back, his body stretched out on the dragon's furnace-hot scales. They radiated heat like smouldering coal—but Ali didn't care. He welcomed it.

The midday sun blazed overhead, warming his skin as the wind cooled his face. He didn't even open his eyes. For the first time in days, he was at ease.

Below, the people in the village and the surrounding fields paused and looked up. The unmistakable silhouettes of dragons sent murmurs rippling through the streets.

Even though they knew the beasts belonged to their lord, instinct still pushed many to retreat. Abeloth's presence was too massive, too ancient, too powerful. A reminder that their baron was not like other lords.

When the fire dragon descended, his claws dug gently into the earth, his wings folding in a great gust of wind.

Ali stood and dropped effortlessly from Abeloth's back, landing on the village's outer road.

The change was immediate.

Gone were the muddy tracks and uneven ground from two days prior. In their place was solid stone, neatly laid in an orderly path that curved through the settlement. Slate-coloured slabs, cut cleanly from the mountains, reflected the sun in quiet pride.

'Stone roads,' Ali thought as he walked, the crunch of his boots echoing softly. 'Miles really is something else.'

All around him, homes were in transformation. Old timber frames were being pulled down, replaced with stronger supports and cleaner designs. Logs from the forest's edge—felled, stripped, and shaped per Miles' precise instructions—were being mounted into new walls by men who had once been starved, defeated peasants.

Now they worked like they had a future.

Ali walked into the heart of the village.

Dozens of villagers had gathered, tools still in hand, faces smeared with sweat and sawdust. But when they saw him approach, they froze, and an almost sacred silence settled.

They remembered.

Even though they rarely saw their lord, they heard of him constantly. The brothers—Ali's appointed speakers—mentioned his name at every chance. And Fiona, quiet but effective, had ordered it: Make sure they never forget who brought them out of hell.

Ali raised a hand.

He pointed to the ground with his index finger.

The gesture was all they needed.

The men immediately knelt, pulling their families down with them. Children followed their parents' lead, bowing their heads low. The wind rustled the grass, but not a single voice rose.

Ali looked at the sea of bent backs and still bodies.

'I used to have thousands kneeling to me. I'll have that again—here, in this continent. And more.'

He took a slow breath, then spoke.

"I see you've all worked very hard," he said, voice calm but loud enough to reach them all. "I'm pleased with what you've done so far. Don't stop until you have proper homes—safe for your children to live in, and for you to live in with dignity."

Then he snapped his fingers.

A shadow formed overhead.

Gasps rose from the villagers as they looked up to see a giant fawn floating above Ali, suspended in mid-air by an unseen force. Thick, brown-furred, still fresh. A feast.

"I'll have the cook start the fire," Ali said simply.

The silence broke.

Children cheered, laughing and jumping in place. Mothers clutched them close, eyes wet with quiet joy. Just days ago, they'd been starving—barely able to feed their own children, watching them shrink from malnutrition.

Now they were strong. Now they were smiling.

"Clean yourselves up," Ali said, already turning to leave. "You've earned this."

He walked toward the fortress. No one rose until he passed through the gate.

"THANK YOU, LORD!" they called out in one voice behind him.

Ali dropped the beast's carcass in the fortress courtyard. The cook, already exhausted, came stumbling out, wiping sweat from his brow. He'd just finished processing the eagle's meat—and now this.

He looked like he was one order away from collapsing.

Ali didn't even break stride.

"Get to it," he said coldly.

The cook gave a strained bow and approached the beast. He'd need the hooded man—the quiet butcher—to help him dissect it. Again.

Inside the fort, Sarina stood waiting.

"My lord, I've prepared your bath…" she said, bowing politely.

"Take me there," Ali replied.

She turned and led him through a corridor that curved beneath the grand staircase at the center of the hall. She opened the refurbished wooden doors—and a wave of hot steam rolled over them.

Ali stepped inside.

The bath chamber had been transformed.

Smooth, pale stone flooring lined the space, glistening with moisture. Embedded in the walls were dim yellow lights, cast from small runes etched into Miles' imported lamps. The air was thick with the scent of heated water and minerals.

In the centre, a massive stone pool steamed softly. Water poured from the open mouth of a stone dragon head, carved into the far wall, creating a gentle waterfall that echoed in the room like a lullaby.

To the side, two large wooden barrels bubbled with hot water—perfect for private soaks.

Sarina stepped in beside him, her eyes happy.

"It's incredible," she said, her voice light. "I still can't believe we have something like this here."

Ali said nothing.

He lowered his gaze slightly—to the floor—where he noticed a faint, rhythmic clicking.

Barely audible.

A small, cloaked spider drone skittered silently across the stone and slipped into the cracks in the wall, vanishing.

'He has them everywhere,' Ali thought with a quiet smirk. 'They don't even know… except Seraphina.'

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