Chapter 7: The First…truth!

The morning mist clung to the marshland as Jin stood barefoot on damp soil, rolling his shoulders. Across from him, Lyrderu loomed tall, arms crossed, his scaled form unshaken by the cool air. They had been at this for a while now—exchanging techniques, testing movement, adapting. Jin had introduced some basics of Karate and Aikido, demonstrating controlled strikes and redirects, only to find the lizardman’s raw power overwhelming in direct clashes.

Lyrderu observed Jin’s stance, tail flicking lazily. “You move... like softskin warriors. But with thought. Not blind force.”

Jin wiped sweat from his brow. “That’s the idea. Redirect, don’t block head-on. Works better when you’re not built like a mountain.”

The lizardman rumbled in approval before stepping forward. “Now... watch.” He lowered his stance, shifting his weight in a fluid motion, then surged forward in an unexpected burst of speed. Jin barely had time to react before Lyrderu’s open palm stopped inches from his chest. “We do not stop force. We guide it. Like river through rock.”

Jin, recovering from the shock of speed, let out a low whistle. “Alright, Master Yoda, I get it. Be the water.”

Lyrderu’s brow furrowed. “Master... Yoda?”

Jin waved him off. “Never mind. Earth thing.”

Their training continued until Jin finally had to sit, stretching his sore limbs. As they rested, Jin recalled a question that had been bugging him.

“You know, you guys—Lizardmen, Wolfkin, Avians—are all called beastmen. But what about goblins? Kobolds? They look pretty humanoid too.”

Lyrderu’s expression darkened slightly. “Softskin call us ‘beastmen’—but goblins? Kobolds? No. They are... wrong things. Not born of this world.”

Jin’s amusement faded. There was weight in Lyrderu’s tone that made his stomach twist. “Then what are they?”

The lizardman was silent for a moment, his slit pupils narrowing before he spoke in a low growl. “Seeds of the Evil God.”

Jin felt a chill at the back of his neck.

Jin’s mind was still tangled in questions as Lyrderu led him through the dense mangroves back to his village—LyrNumshi. The settlement was built above the swamp, wooden structures standing on thick stilts, connected by rope bridges. The place carried an ancient air, the kind that whispered of forgotten knowledge.

Their destination was clear even before Lyrderu pointed. An old, abandoned shrine sat at the village’s edge, its stone walls cracked with time, vines creeping over its foundation.

“This,” Lyrderu said, placing a clawed hand on the weathered entrance, “is what my ancestors guarded. Before even our village had a name.”

Jin stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through narrow openings. The air smelled of moss and something old—older than the structure itself. His gaze drifted to the walls, where faded murals stretched along the stone.

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There were three distinct layers of images, their meanings half-erased by time:

1. The first showed an era of harmony—humans and beastmen coexisting, building, trading.

2. The second depicted a black moon cracking apart, birthing twisted creatures into the world.

3. The third... Jin blinked. To him, there was another layer beneath. A faceless deity, chains wrapping around the fractured moon.

Lyrderu, standing beside him, traced his claws over the first two murals. “This is what we all see. The first life. The first corruption.”

Jin, however, was fixated on the third layer. Words began to etch themselves into his vision, like whispers of the past forming into legible text:

“The Binding of the Corruptor.”

Lyrderu frowned when Jin reached out to touch it. “There is nothing there.”

Jin’s breath hitched. “You... can’t see it?”

“No.”

A faint hum stirred in Jin’s chest. His “????” title—was this why?

And then, the world shifted.

The moment his fingers brushed the wall, Jin’s surroundings melted away. He was no longer in the shrine.

A vision unfolded before him—a gathering of young Lizardmen sitting before an altar, their figures small, innocent. A dark silhouette stood before them; its presence immense.

One of the children, voice unsteady, asked: “Vast swamp… This Numshi tribe… why?”

The silhouette’s voice rumbled like distant thunder: “Guardians of the… (unhearable) …protect His heart… and find His …. (unhearable) …our responsibility.”

Another child hesitated before speaking. “If he’s the …(unhearable)…. why is he dead?”

The figure’s response was chilling: “Not dead. Sleeping… Humans, Demons, Beastkin, Elves, and Dwarves… together… the …(unhearable)… fought the …(unhearable)… victory, but lost…”

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The vision shifted.

The same child—now older, fleeing through smoke as demons raided their land.

“Why did they fight us?” the child screamed.

A relative grabbed his arm, voice strained. “Because they… (unhearable).”

Another shift.

Now a warrior, the same Lizardman stood on a battlefield, blade in hand. Humans charged with war cries—defending their homes from demons. Yet he also saw the Lizardmen aiding those same demons, offering food when their crops withered under unnatural blight.

Another shift.

He was rescuing Beastkin from human captors. Then, alongside humans, battling demons to save Elves and Dwarves.

Friend. Enemy. Ally. Foe.

The lines blurred.

Jin gasped as he woke.

Lyrderu was crouched beside him, concern evident. “You were gone. A day.”

Jin’s mind reeled. He had only been in the vision for hours. The weight of what he saw pressed into his chest. The truth was fragmented—shattered like the black moon in the mural.

And the shrine…

Jin’s gaze fell on the altar. A single object rested atop it—

A heart.

Not just any heart. It pulsed faintly, though long devoid of life. Darkened veins snaked across its massive form; each line etched with ancient sigils. It was as if time itself had failed to claim it.

Frowning, Jin activated Appraisal (EX).

[Analyzing...]

For a moment, his vision darkened. Then, unfamiliar symbols flickered before his eyes, shifting and rearranging into something he could barely grasp.

[Dragon’s Heart (Sealed) – The Remnant Core of the First True God. A vestige of the being who shaped the world before falling into eternal slumber.]

His breath caught.

Not just a relic. Not just some ancient remains. This was a piece of a god.

A sudden pulse shot through his body.

[???? title evolving...]

[New title updated: ??? (Comprehension: 5%)]

Jin staggered, a sharp ache blooming in his skull. The moment his mind grasped a fraction of the truth, something shifted inside him—something vast and unfinished.

Lyrderu stepped forward, concern flickering across his face. “You saw something, didn’t you?”

Jin exhaled slowly, his fingers curling into fists. The weight of history pressed against him, heavier than ever.

Everything that had happened—was happening—was older than history itself. This world had a past no one remembered. But someone had tried to bury it.

He had to find the other shrines.

He had to know the full truth.

Jin lifted his gaze. “So… where’s the next shrine?”

A slow, knowing grin spread across Lyrderu’s face.