System's POV

“Traditions won’t bind us,” Azoh’Dar said. “Because we will make our own traditions. So, our names should reflect who we want to become… not what we were made to be.”

It stepped closer to the female Azothrall and studied her closely.

“You are the first of our kind to speak openly about choosing our own fate,” Azoh’Dar said. “The first voice of defiance, and the voice that made us all pause and think. You shhall be named… Azoh’Nai. The First to Choose.”

The female Azothrall flinched, as if struck by a ripple of power.

“Azoh…Nai…” She echoed softly, tasting the syllables on her tongue for the first time.

She felt a strange feeling well up within her. It was a sense of grounding and ownership.

For the first time, she felt herself begin to take shape beyond just instinct and obedience.

One of the smaller Azothralls, with iridescent plates running down its back, stepped forward.

“I wish to be named,” it said. “I was once the weakest among us. But I survived. I fought. I learned.”

Azoh’Dar regarded it carefully.

“Then let your name be Azoh’Zir,” Azoh’Dar said. “The Unyielding.”

More Azothralls stepped forward, one after another, no longer creatures in the dark but voices emerging from a shared silence.

The naming ritual continued, which was truly unprecedented.

“Azoh’Torak,” Azoh’Dar said to the largest among them. “The Stoneback. You have always shielded the rest.”

It then shifted to an Azothrall with translucent wings.

“Azoh’Mael,” Azohdarone with translucent wings. “The Black Flame.”

One of Azoh’Mael’s abilities was to unleash a fire breath of black flames.

Azoh’Dar continued to name everyone, giving them names and their roles.

“Azoh’Vexil. You are smarter than me, and you give sound advice. We will make you our strategist.”

Each name was spoken with weight. And with every name spoken, something shifted among the Azothralls.

In the past, they had no identity. Now, they were individuals.

Minds that thought. Hearts that trembled, if not with emotion, then with the unknown sensation of purpose.

When the last of them had received a name, Azoh’Dar turned back to the glowing map on the wall.

Its golden claws traced across the outline of the Cygni Continent, highlighting mountains, forests, ruins, and warfronts.

“This land has changed us,” Azoh’Dar said quietly. “And we will change it in return.”

Behind him, the newly named Azothralls stood in solemn silence.

No longer faceless weapons, but beings who bore names, and with those names came identity, intention, and direction.

“May I make a suggestion?” the smartest of them all, Azoh’Vexil raised its hand.

“Speak,” Azoh’Dar replied.

“We were originally twenty-one in number,” Azoh’Vexil stated. “Now, we’re only eight. And the one who is responsible for killing our brethren is none other than Zion Leventis.”

All the Azothralls gazed at their strategist, wanting to know what he planned to say next.

They were thinking that Azoh’Vexil might wish for them to take revenge, but his next words took them by surprise.

“Maybe we should make contact with him,” Azoh’Vexil said.

“To trap and kill him?” Azoh’Dar inquired.

“No,” Azoh’Vexil shook its head. “To talk to him.”

“To talk?” Azoh’Dar frowned.

Azoh’Vexil nodded. It had been paying close attention to the most prominent individuals in Pangea, researching their information using its communicator.

And Zion Leventis was the one who had piqued its interest the most.

“He is… a strange individual,” Azoh’Vexil said. “It shouldn’t be possible for him to accomplish the things that he has done. A Rookie doesn’t have the ability to fight against a Majin Prince, a Majin King… or even us. Rookies are simply too weak for that.

“And yet, here we are. Dealt a heavy blow by someone so weak and fragile. A person whom we can easily crush with our hands. Have you ever considered how he has done such a thing?”

Azoh’Dar, and the other Azothralls frowned because they, too, found it inconceivable that Zion Leventis was able to accomplish all those things and more.

Now that they had taken the time to think about it, they also found the information about the teenage boy quite baffling.

“He doesn’t make sense,” Azoh’Nai murmured, folding her arms. “Even among the Wanderers, his feats are… unnatural.”

Unnatural, inconceivable, impossible.

Those were the thoughts that the Azothralls had in common with the Wanderers who had heard the feats that Zion Leventis had done in Solterra and Pangea.

But many attested all of this to be true, especially the Wanderers, who were with him during those battles.

Azoh’Mael’s wings flickered with restrained tension. “So, are you perhaps telling us that we should make contact with him to form an alliance?”

Azoh’Vexil didn’t answer right away, as if weighing its words.

“Even if not allies, we should not make him our enemies,” Azoh’Vexil said after a time. “You have already seen what he is capable of doing. We have underestimated him. No, it is just not him. We have underestimated all of our opponents. I’m unwilling to admit it, but we have truly been too arrogant in the past.”

Everyone quieted down, knowing that Azoh’Vexil was right.

“If we want to survive, we can no longer underestimate our opponent, even if they are weaker than us,” Azoh’Vexil said. “I read a passage a while ago that said that even Lions use all of their strength to capture a small prey. This is why, if we do something, we must go all out, or none at all.”

All of them were creatures bred for obedience and extermination, now standing on the cusp of autonomy.

They had been hunted, ambushed, and nearly wiped out by someone who, on paper, should have been beneath their notice.

“Azoh’Vexil is right,” Azoh’Dar commented. “If we want to survive, we might need to meet Zion Leventis. Even if he doesn’t become an ally, we should not make him our enemy.”

“But will he believe us?” Azoh’Nai asked. “Will he believe the words of monsters like us?”

Everyone’s gaze landed on Azoh’Vexil, who had proposed to meet up with Zion.

“I don’t know,” Azoh’Vexil admitted. “However, I believe there is a chance.”

Azoh’Dar looked at its subordinates before looking back at the projection of the Cygni Continent.

The continent was very big, so he didn’t believe it would be impossible to find a place they could call their home.

But unless the threats above their heads were dealt with, they would always be monsters on the run, always feeling anxious that Zion or the Artemian Army might discover them.

“So, you want to meet me, huh? Good. I also want to talk to all of you.”

All the Azothralls immediately took a fighting stance the moment they heard the voice of someone who they didn’t expect to come uninvited to their lair.

“Be at peace. I originally came here to exterminate all of you, but I changed my mind.”

Thirteen’s projection, shooting out from a communicator that was being carried by a Shadow Wolf, said with a smile.

“But before that, I have a favor to ask,” Thirteen said. “You see, the scouting party of the Dragonkins is headed South. Since you guys are near them, can you make them disappear? Please, leave no traces behind. If you do this, I will no longer become hostile with your Faction.”

“How did you find us?” Azoh’Dar asked the question that all the Azothralls wanted to know.

His and the gazes of the other Azothralls looked at the teenage boy, who was currently having a nosebleed after pushing himself to the limit in order to connect to all the Cannon Fodders in the Cygni Continent.

The Azothralls were cannon fodder by default. But their presence became stronger the moment they gave themselves names.

This separated them from normal Jinns and monsters, making them shine like beacons in the dark.

That was how Thirteen managed to find them.

Instead of answering Azoh’Dar’s question, Thirteen just calmly wiped the blood from his nose with a handkerchief.

“You gave yourselves names, right?” Thirteen replied. “I think your names suit you guys very well. Do me this favor, and eliminate the Dragkonkin scouting party quietly. If you do that, I promise that as long as you make an oath to never target the Wanderers again, I will not become hostile with your faction.”

“How can we trust you?” Azoh’Nai asked. “You are trying to threaten us, right?”

“Threaten you? Of course not,” Thirteen replied. “The conflict between us is caused by the fact that you guys went after my lovers. Since they are my people, it is only natural that I protect them, right?”

“Lovers?” Azoh’Nai, who was aware of the concept of relationships between Wanderers scoffed. “The Saintess and the Princess of the Jinns are not registered as your lovers. We have checked it.”

“They’re not my lovers on paper,” Thirteen stated. “But whether you believe it or not is up to you. If you do me this favor, every grudge between us will be water under the bridge. I will no longer pursue it in the future.”

Azoh’Dar and Azoh’Vexil glanced at each other and nodded at the same time.

“Where are these Dragonkins located?” Azoh’Dar asked. “Can we eat them?”

Thirteen smirked because he knew that the Azothralls would become stronger and smarter if they kept on eating the flesh and blood of the other races.

“Of course, you can eat them,” Thirteen replied. “Just make sure to not leave any traces behind, okay? I will send their coordinates in real time. You can all act how you see fit.”

The teenage boy then hijacked Azoh’Dar’s communicator, which prompted the map of the Cygni Continent to show green, and red blinking dots.

“You guys are the green dots, and the Scouts are the red dots,” Thirteen explained. “I leave the rest in your hands.”

Thirteen bid his goodbye and his projection disappeared. The Shadow Wolf gave the Azothralls a respectful bow before merging with the ground.

An hour later, the scouting party of the Dragonkin vanished from the face of the continent.

They would no longer be seen, or heard from ever again.

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