Langsung ke konten utama

‎πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Entry VI: Echoes of a Forgotten World


At first, I believed artifacts were relics of an ancient age.
‎I was wrong.
‎They are not ancient.
‎They are… familiar.
‎Objects recovered from the vaults are not always weapons, nor tools of war. Many are mundane—almost disappointingly so.
‎A container that holds more than its size allows.
‎A device that produces heat without flame.
‎Lights that shimmer without fuel.
‎Illusions that exist for no purpose other than amusement.
‎Fireworks. Toys. Fragments of joy.
‎It is unsettling.
‎Because these are not the creations of a struggling civilization.
‎They are the remnants of one that had already solved its problems.
‎A world… beyond this one.
‎In Dunskar, such artifacts are everywhere. Markets trade them casually. Even common folk can afford the lesser ones—trinkets, conveniences, curiosities.
‎But not all artifacts are equal.
‎There are those that defy reason.
‎Weapons that cut through reinforced steel as if it were cloth.
‎Containers that distort space itself.
‎And whispers—only whispers—of items capable of denying death once, if worn at the right moment.
‎Those… are not sold.
‎They are fought over.
‎Curiously, despite the existence of such relics, the people of Dunskar do not rely on weapons I would expect from a “more advanced” world.
‎No thunderous firearms.
‎No distant, impersonal warfare.
‎Instead—steel.
‎Blades. Spears. Axes.
‎At first, it seemed primitive.
‎Until I understood the truth.
‎The leyline does not only shape the land.
‎It shapes the people.
‎Those who live here—who endure its presence, who train, who draw from it—become stronger. Gradually. Inevitably.
‎Their bodies adapt. Their senses sharpen.
‎And so, weapons that depend on raw force alone… lose relevance.
‎A simple projectile cannot match a body reinforced by arcane flow.
‎Unless—
‎It, too, becomes something more.
‎Some have attempted this.
‎Arrows, bolts—crafted with care, infused with energy. These can still threaten even the strongest among them.
‎But such ammunition is costly. Limited.
‎And so, the people return to what works.
‎Steel guided by strength.
‎Skill refined by survival.
‎Power drawn not from the weapon—
‎But from the one who wields it.
‎If these artifacts truly come from another world…
‎then I must ask:
‎What happened to the people who made them?
‎And more importantly—
‎Why are their remnants
‎buried beneath ours?

Komentar

Postingan populer dari blog ini

πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Entry II: The Powers Beneath the Crown

If the king of Dunskar stands at the peak… then beneath him lies a web that never truly rests. There are four powers here. Not equal—but none insignificant. The Nobility came first. Old families, their names carved into the foundations of the kingdom itself. They do not rule outright, but their bloodlines built Dunskar. Land, wealth, influence—most of it flows through them. Some smile at the crown. Others measure it. Then, the Church of the Sun. They worship Solus, the ever-burning eye above the world. Their temples are quiet, but their reach is not. Faith here is not forced… yet somehow, it is everywhere. Even soldiers bow their heads before battle. I cannot tell if they serve the king… or if the king simply allows them to exist. The third is… unusual. The Guild. Not a government body, yet somehow essential. They write the guidebooks—records of monsters, ruins, forbidden paths. To adventurers, it is survival itself. To the crown? A tool, perhaps. Or a risk. Information is ...

‎πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Entry I: Dunskar

‎Dunskar is not ruled by age. ‎It is ruled by presence. ‎I arrived expecting a kingdom bound by tradition—an old king, a fixed line of succession, predictable order. I was wrong. ‎ ‎The throne of Dunskar does not belong to the eldest child, nor the firstborn. It belongs to the one who can take it… without tearing the kingdom apart. ‎Every ruler must carry the blood of the previous king—this much is sacred. But blood alone is not enough. Among the royal lineage, they choose. ‎ ‎Not by simple decree, but by a form of judgment. Influence. Strength. Charisma. The ability to command not just soldiers… but belief. ‎ ‎They call it a “vote,” though it feels less like democracy and more like quiet warfare. Alliances form in whispers. Loyalty is tested long before the crown is placed. ‎ ‎A weak heir is never crowned. ‎A strong one is rarely unchallenged. ‎The current king—whoever he may be—does not simply inherit power. ‎He survives for it. ‎ ‎And perhaps that is why the people do no...

πŸ“– Journal of DeLuna — Special Entry: The Weight of Knowing

We left the gathering behind. The colors faded first. Then the voices. Then the sense that the world was… wider than I could follow. For days, we walked. The ground changed slowly. Red gave way to something softer. Not yet green—but no longer harsh. And still—I found my attention returning to the same person. Sondre Eldar. Though no one calls him that unless they must. To most, he is simply the Caravan Master. I had watched him before. Everyone does. But not like this. Not with questions that refuse to settle. It began with a memory. A sound I could not place. Clicks. Tongue against teeth. The language of the Siltfang. I had heard it clearly. And I had heard him answer. Just as clearly. For several days, I said nothing. It felt… inappropriate to ask. As if the answer would not be given freely. Or worse—as if it would. He noticed before I spoke. “Something on your mind,” he said. Not a question. Just an observation. I asked anyway. About the language. He did not answer immed...