The Last Primal

"Younglings!" The silver-furred bulky humanoid-shaped creature exclaimed in a booming voice, startling the lined-up children and shushing all ongoing murmurs as well. 

"You are at the age to take on your first trial. The Trial of Ascension is a trial that will give you the answers you seek. It will judge you fairly. In front of it there are no difference between the kin of a hunter, a gatherer, or our protectors. It doesn't care about your past nor about your future. What it cares about is your potential future, your talent, your affinities." The figure explained with the same volume and fervent power in his booming voice.

As he did, his eyes slowly wandered matching each of the attentive children's gazes, ultimately landing and resting on the son of the Grand Protector, the short, black-haired boy with distinct draconian features all over his body.

"Boy." After a momentary pause, he addressed the startled but still, clearly expectant-looking child. " Are you ready to test yourself?"

Without hesitation the black-haired boy nodded, his eyes shining with the spark of determination.

"Yes, Master Dor'Kalatha! This one is ready to test himself!"

"Very well. Come with me. You will be the first." Satisfied with the answer, Master Dor'Kalatha nodded at the boy, then turned around and stepped towards a light green-colored door behind him.

Stepping to the side, he pointed with his right arm towards it.

"Step through the door and touch the crystal to begin. Remember to clear your head and let the energy course through you. Let it explore the deepest, darkest parts of your soul. Do not resist, and everything will be fine."

Intently listening to the Master's explanation, the boy nodded, his focus already on the frame of the green, thin-looking door. Unlike most of the buildings, it seemed to be made of some sort of plant, the frame was relatively thin. The color was also not done with any painting, it was probably the color of the plant itself.

Taking a deep breath, determination shined in the boy's golden eyes once more. Steeling his resolve, he gulped as his hand reached for the handle and pushed the door open. 

Unfortunately for Aiden, the memory segment began to fade to black once again, this particular scene was deemed completed before giving him a chance to get a glimpse of the so-called Ascension Trial.

However, just like previously, before he could have the chance to voice his complaint, the searing pain surged once more, tormenting Aiden's mind. The memories began to rapidly flip and flash in front of Aiden's eyes again. Although they were fast, it seemed that his mind slowly started getting used to the sensation, he was able to process the gist of what they showed.

It showed the life of the young, black-haired boy, the son of the Grand Protector of the strange village. Aiden saw as he walked out of the trial building with a bright smile on his face, holding a small vial of light green fluid in his right hand. He was basically rushing back to his mansion atop the small hill, yelling from halfway towards his mother happily. 

Then he saw as he began his training with the silver-furred teacher and learned the basics of combat. In his early years, he was mostly taught the art of combat, without delving deeper into the theoretical subjects.

Those types of lessons started once he turned into a bright and handsome teenager. At that point, his hair also grew slightly longer, reaching down to his shoulders. He had a chiseled face, with a lean and toned physique. The two small stubs on his back sprouted into a pair of golden scaled, leathery wings, his short, cute tail now almost reached the ground. 

His nails also turned darker, slightly sharper. 

What Aiden found strange was that as the boy continued to develop, and got his yearly vials of strange essences, he morphed, changed into a form more and more similar to himself. Albeit there were still differences between the boy in the memories and himself, but the resemblance was clear.

'Just who is he?!' Starting to grow numb to the constant pressure he felt in his mind, he muttered mostly to himself. 

The mature voice of his System Guide abruptly spoke to his mind.

'[It is as you suspect Aiden. What you see is the past of your people. One of the last settlements of Primals back in an ancient time, before the Great Disaster. The young boy is special. I'm sure you already have your theories, but just continue processing the memories. You will learn more.]'

Just as she spoke, another powerful memory appeared at the forefront of his mind, inviting Aiden to dive into yet another sequence. 

Once the scene cleared, and Aiden got back his vision, he found himself standing in a clearing. Behind him, the last remaining survivors of his people, his brethren. The last living members of his tribe. The final resistance against the tide of darkness that was approaching.

Unlike before, this time Aiden wasn't playing the part, like before. No, this time, he was merely a spectator following this middle-aged man, whom he hadn't seen before in his memories, yet could still feel that he was related to that young boy from before. He seemed distinctly familiar.

He had long, silky black hair that was tied into a ponytail behind his back. He wore a bronze chest plate with matching bronze leggings. The front of his chest plate had a large dragon's head as a motif, whilst the legging followed the same design, with the kneecaps having a set of dark claws protruding.

His helmet, shaped like a giant dragon's head with the visor being its sharp fangs were resting under his right arm. He was looking at the distance with a solemn expression on his face. A large cut ran through his face, ruining his otherwise handsome visage; a reminder of the past battles he most likely went through.

His right hand was resting on the hilt of an ornate long sword. The blade, that was planted into the ground next to him was black as the night, made out of the mysterious material found sparsely in the most dangerous dungeons and caves: obsidian. The hilt that his right hand was subconsciously caressing, was the most interesting, most unique of the entire weapon. Just like his helmet, it was shaped into a dragon's head. The pommel being his eyes that had a pair of small vermillion rubies shining from the sockets, glowering eerily to anyone that would dare to approach it. The cross-guard was the dragons stretched out mouth ready to clasp down and tear apart anybody bold enough to attack it.

The obsidian blade, that served as its long and sharp tongue was slightly curved. If one focused enough, it could see a strange, colorless substance flowing back and forth at the blades fuller, its spine. 

Spotting the cloud of dust appearing at the far distance, the young man snorted. Gripping the handle of his mythical sword tightly. Pulling it from the ground, he raised it above his head whilst he turned around to face the last remaining members of his people. 

"Friends!" With a stern look, he exclaimed. His eyes slowly traveled from face to face, similarly how his old master once did when they were mere youngsters gathered to face their very first trials. 

"My people, my brethren! We have lost many of our beloved ones. Mothers, fathers... sons, and daughters. We have all lost those that are dear to us." His face remained stoic, cold, and stern as he spoke, his voice was unwavering despite the harshness of reality.

He could however see the tears of sorrow escape from many of his brethren's eyes, many faces soured as they were forced to remember the faces of their lost loved ones.

The leader took a short pause, giving each of his words more power, letting them settle in and rattle their hearts.

"We have suffered unjustly at the hands of this cruel world. We never wanted more than what we were already given. We lived in harmony with the world. But they!" He pointed his sword behind him, towards the slowly growing cloud of dust in the distance.

"They! They were envious of us. They wanted our secrets, they wanted our secrets! They kidnapped, tortured, humiliated, and shamed us! Once they realized they cannot forcefully take what was ours, they labeled us as monsters and began their endless hunt! They slowly, gradually chipped away everything from us, pushing us to this state. We are on the brink of extinction…"

Although his voice, nor his expression changed, his hands gripped the handle of his sword even tighter. So hard that that beneath his golden scaled hands his skin started to turn paler, even whiter than it already was.

"Now, thinking that they are victorious they have all come for your lives. They want nothing more than to take your heads and make trophies of their 'conquest'! I will ask you one thing only. Tell me:"

His face turned into a mixture of coldness and anger, he raised his sword high into the air. 

His eyes suddenly lit up, glowing with a brilliant golden luster. He roared into the sky, releasing an ear-shattering, powerful draconic cry into the air. 

"WILL YOU LET THEM?!"

The response was unified, even louder than their lord's exclamation. All the hands were raised into the air, as the last remaining survivors of this ancient and forgotten race exclaimed with a fervent passion. Their hearts filled with nothing but the wish for revenge, they all bellowed into the sky with all of their power.

"NO! WE WILL FIGHT TO THE END! FOR OUR BELOVED, FOR LORD AIDEN VORAGON!"