Still, there were many like Oren who had created Erols, though unlike him, they did not use bodies.
Erols were born from the world's energy and certain natural conditions. They only required a single reactant.
So once their creation was understood by the people of the mountains, they could be reproduced, so long as resources remained stable.
Manuals detailing such methods circulated across Unison, used by merchants, clans, and travellers, though nothing was ever guaranteed with those vile abominations.
Oren shook his head, quietly glancing at the trees and the blood-streaked ground weaving through the undergrowth behind him.
He faced Selvar, then spoke with a wry smile, unable to shake off the peculiarity of their situation.
"That is good. We can reach the wall of fog in peace then, but before that, we must talk about our deal..."
As he said the words, his eyes deepened in concern, instantly hearing a reply from the mysterious archer.
"Already..."
Selvar looked startled as he continued.
"Hah, I really am making a deal with the devil..."
He shut his mouth, realising the harshness in his own words. For a moment, he lingered on what to say to this man who felt uncannily familiar, though he had never met him before.
Eventually, Selvar spoke again, a faint smile returning, still holding onto that composed, almost noble demeanour.
"Oh, but it is hard to trust a demon, you know. And it is even harder to make a deal with one. Even though I came here of my own volition, it is hard to defy my ordained path."
He glanced at the arrow still protruding from his neck in disdain, then asked solemnly.
"So what is your name...? They never said your name in the stories. They only cared about your acts, your sins, and the chaos you stirred as the Immortal Demon who roamed Unison."
Oren stared at the man with the same intrigued expression he saw reflected in his calm grey eyes.
Wiping the dry blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb, he said, "My name is Xeyren… but you may call me anything."
Selvar's brow lifted slightly.
"Anything, huh… Immortal Xeyren," he said, a faint laugh slipping through.
Immortal Xeyren...
Oren turned the name over in his mind, as though inspecting it.
A quiet chuckle left him as an almost boyish laugh escaped Selvar.
"I will escort—"
"Escort…? No, you are mistaken, Selvar. You will not merely escort me to Everdream. Our deal will be beyond that."
Oren's gaze shifted. If only for a moment, a distant expression shrouded his unkempt face.
He raised his voice slightly.
"You will become my dutiful hostage. For me to enter Everdream, you will have to obey my commands, and obviously, I will need you to comply with this."
"Why...?"
"Because like you have said several times, I have a bad name here in Unison. No matter what I have done, no matter my reasons, the mere fact that I harmed those Enlightened will not sit well."
"I fear the news will spread quickly. That is why the people of Everdream will most likely attack me... and we dont want anything bad to happen... do we?"
Selvar's expression soured at the words, but Oren's only deepened.
What he said was the truth. There were no hidden lies woven through his words.
"If I have an Enlightened one like you as my hostage, I can control what they do and say. To the people, you are a protector of their home."
"So if they dare attack, I will threaten them, placing my blade against your neck."
Oren smiled faintly.
"Though I doubt it would ever happen."
To his surprise, Selvar nodded, as though he had already considered it.
When the Enlightened archer spoke, he was calm and collected, his eyes shifting from a hollow grey to something fuller.
"Alright then. I will become your hostage. I do not mind. What I care about is what I will gain from this, so tell me what you will give me in return."
To achieve what he wanted, Selvar would even accept becoming a slave, or at least, that was what his composure suggested.
It only made Oren more intrigued. His own mental state was unorthodox, but Selvar's seemed just as burdened.
What was this kindred feeling of comradeship?
But he did not need to know Selvar's story to understand this intricately.
The Enlightened archer of the fog was cursed, condemned, and his path had already been set.
So what does he want? Oren thought on this deeply.
What can I give him that no one else can? Or perhaps he had taken his chances due to the situation.
It was not only strange that Selvar approached Oren, but that the man had not asked his reason for going to Everdream.
For all the stories told, the Immortal Demon was cold-hearted, a vengeful demon cast upon the world, a nightmare who came from nothing...
He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "I am not a telepath, so tell me, what do you want? If I cannot give it, then this is a successful deal."
Before Selvar could reply, Oren thought, What is the worst that can happen? I have no money, no items...
"Oh," he mumbled, listening to himself.
Oren whispered again, more quietly, almost regretfully, "Do keep in mind I have no money, no resources, nothing at all, really. But if you want money so badly, I can simply take it from the people of Everdream."
Oren glanced at his tattered tachi, then frowned, his hand hovering over its guard protectively.
No, Selvar wouldn't... would he?
Selvar smiled.
He stood still for a while, then inhaled through his nose and looked up into the blue sky.
"That is perfect, Xeyren, but I do not need money. I also do not need resources to be happy."
Upon hearing the archer's next words, Oren's faint smile faded.
"What I request is an Erol. Hopefully you have heard of it, and if not, something quite similar. And since Erols do not have predetermined names, the challenge of finding this peculiar creature will be arduous."
Oren smiled faded.
Though he knew the names of many Erols, he was far from omniscient, and creating Erols was another problem in itself.
Oren looked at the trees.
"What kind of Erol do you want?"
Selvar did not hesitate.
"One that sees... No, to be exact, one that will improve my sight and intuition so that I can find the thing I truly want."
"Well, what is it you truly want then?"
"A guide for my mind," Selvar replied instantly, too eager to care about clarity.
"Hmm, a guide..." Oren said, staring into Selvar's eyes as he considered it.
"Yes. I only need you to tell me what I need to know. I want your information. Your years of research, your explorations on Erols. What made you into a demon."
Oren's expression darkened for a split second. In the end, he grinned and said in a ghastly tone.
"Fine. If such an Erol exists within the Unison Range, I will help you obtain it. But my information is more valuable than you becoming my hostage."
"You are worthless in comparison."
"So the knowledge I give will cost you dearly."
"...Do you still wish to become the Demon's hostage, knowing this?"
Selvar bowed slightly, just enough so that Oren could no longer see his expression.
Unseen, he smiled, not a hint of regret in mind.
He spoke clearly.
"If you truly intend to give me the information I seek, then it does not matter what I must do to obtain it.
...I need nothing else. I want nothing more. This is my own selfish and idiosyncratic goal"
Selvar let out a quiet, cold chuckle.
"Still, Xeyren, do not feel indebted to me for becoming your hostage. Your slave, even for such an unfair wager."
Despite his careless words, Oren felt a faint, unfamiliar sense of nostalgia.
It would not be easy, he thought.
Finding such an Erol would be especially difficult. Since Erols were not equal. Some were weak, little more than curiosities.
Others held power that could rival entire clans.
Their rank depended on the density of world energy and the nature of the ability they carried, and only the Enlightened could use them.
Selvar was Enlightened, but even that was not enough.
There were stages to it. To control an Erol, one had to reach a level where its power could be shaped and directed at will.
Something he could not yet do.
Oren's thoughts drifted.
For a moment, it felt as though something had slipped past him, something just out of reach.
No...
He was certain he had used one before. Despite being mundane, he believed he had once wielded an Erol.
An unheard-of one.
Long ago, he thought he had used the Erol of immortality.
Because immortality was not a gift, but a fate no one should be bound to. It had been his only reason, his only hope.
And so, driven by that same unyielding hope, he searched once more for something to undo it.
...The Erol of mortality.