The Ultimate Skill System: Absorb, Upgrade, Create, Transfer-Chapter 42 - : Growing Community

The morning sun rose gently over the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the land. Keiran, the Lionkin warrior, stood tall and resolute as he prepared to lead the Cervitaurs to the Lionkin base.

The Cervitaurs, with their deer-like lower halves and human torsos, followed him with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Their hooves made soft, rhythmic sounds against the dirt path as they moved through the forest.

The journey was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of pine and earth, and the group moved with purpose.

By noon, they arrived at the Lionkin base. The village was a lively place, with Lionkin villagers going about their daily tasks.

Children played near the wooden huts, their laughter ringing through the air, while adults tended to gardens, crafted tools.

As Keiran and the Cervitaurs entered the village, the Lionkin villagers paused to greet them. Smiles spread across their faces, and their warm welcomes were genuine. The Cervitaurs, though initially wary, began to relax as they were met with kindness.

The Lionkin villagers quickly made arrangements for the Cervitaurs, offering them comfortable accommodations.

Though the Cervitaurs had a history of suffering under Lionkin cruelty in the past, this new generation of Lionkin seemed different.

They were kind, respectful, and eager to make amends. The Cervitaurs decided not to hold the sins of the past against these villagers. After all, they were not the ones who had caused the pain.

The atmosphere in the village was joyful. A massive wooden table was set up outdoors, and a feast was prepared for everyone to share.

The table was laden with roasted meats, fresh vegetables, and warm bread. The Cervitaurs, due to their deer-like lower halves, stood around the table as they ate, while the Lionkin sat on benches.

Despite the difference in posture, the meal was a shared experience, filled with laughter and conversation.

As they ate, the Cervitaurs began to open up. They spoke of their lives in the forest, their traditions, and their struggles.

The Lionkin listened intently, sharing stories of their own. It was clear that under Keiran's leadership, the Lionkin were living in freedom and happiness.

There was no tyranny here, no oppressive rule. The Cervitaurs could see that Keiran was a leader who valued his people and sought to protect them.

Keiran observed the Cervitaurs quietly as they interacted with the Lionkin. He noticed how they stood while eating, their hooves firmly planted on the ground.

He admired their grace and strength, qualities that would make them valuable allies. But he also knew that gaining their trust would not be easy. They had been hurt before, and their caution was understandable.

A few hours after lunch, Keiran gathered everyone in an open area within the village.

The Cervitaurs stood in the center, while the Lionkin villagers watched silently from the sides. The air was thick with anticipation as Keiran stepped forward to address the Cervitaurs.

"Now that you have seen a glimpse of what my leadership is like," Keiran began, his voice calm but firm, "I think it's time to ask the question. Are you willing to swear your allegiance under my leadership?"

The Cervitaurs exchanged glances, their expressions thoughtful. Then, Ihalot, the elderly leader of the Cervitaurs, stepped forward. His antlers were tall and proud, and his eyes held the wisdom of many years. He looked directly at Keiran, his gaze steady.

"Before we swear our allegiance," Ihalot said, "we want to know your goal. Are you a conqueror who seeks to take over all of Fiora? Are you a warlord who plans to expand your territory by force?"

The question hung in the air, and silence fell over the gathering. The Cervitaurs waited anxiously for Keiran's response.

Ihalot's voice was firm as he continued, "We have experienced the rule of a conqueror before. We would rather remain in our lands, unsafe and alone, than serve another warmonger. We need assurance."

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Keiran nodded, understanding the weight of Ihalot's words. He raised his hand, palm facing upward, as if to show he had nothing to hide. "My goal," he said, "is to stop the darkness from engulfing this world. One of the greatest threats we face is the Demon King. I may be strong, but I am not omnipresent. I have limits. I want to protect as many people as I can, and the only way to do that is for you to stand with me and help me protect them. I won't take away your freedom. You can contribute in any way you choose."

He paused, letting his words sink in. Then, with a steady voice, he added, "I am not a conqueror. I am a hero."

Ihalot studied Keiran for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Then," he said, "our loyalty is yours."

With that, Ihalot knelt before Keiran. One by one, the other Cervitaurs followed suit, kneeling in a show of allegiance. Their faces were filled with resolve, their decision made.

Keiran activated his Oathbound Dominion, a powerful ability that bound the Cervitaurs to him as his subordinates. The entire area was bathed in a bright, golden light, and for a moment, it seemed as though the world itself had paused to witness the moment.

When the light faded, the village erupted in cheers. The Lionkin villagers rushed forward to embrace the Cervitaurs, welcoming them as allies and friends.

The atmosphere was one of celebration, and even Keiran, who rarely showed emotion, allowed the corners of his lips to curve into a small smile. He watched the scene for a moment before turning away, his mind already focused on the next steps.

As he walked through the village, Keiran pulled up his status board.

He scanned through his skills, his expression thoughtful. "It's time," he murmured to himself, "to do something about these skills."

•••••

Meanwhile, in the kingdom of Rojan, within the grand office of Rupert Oneida, the right hand of the king, a different kind of tension filled the air.

The room was spacious, with white walls, a massive bookshelf filled with ancient tomes, and portraits of past rulers. Rupert sat behind his desk, his face a mask of frustration.

Catherine, a knight clad in gleaming armor, stood before him. She had just returned from a scouting mission, and her report had left Rupert deeply unsettled.

Without warning, Rupert slammed his hand on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. Catherine, however, did not flinch. She remained calm, her posture straight and her expression composed.

"What do you mean, dead?" Rupert demanded, his voice sharp.

"Vulcarion is dead," Catherine replied evenly. "We found his corpse. Based on the state of the battlefield, it was a brutal fight."

Rupert's eyes narrowed, and he bit his thumbnail, a nervous habit he had developed over the years. "What kind of monster," he muttered, "could defeat a monster like Vulcarion? He was the most powerful creature in all of Fiora."

Catherine's gaze did not waver. "Whatever it is," she said, "I believe it is still in Fiora."

Rupert shook his head, his expression grim. "I really hope you're wrong," he said quietly, though deep down, he feared she was right.

The balance of power in Fiora was shifting, and he could feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him.