To him, however, they were the monsters.
They built their own forests of stone and wood, fortresses built by the most unique creature in nature who seemed to forget their place in it. They viewed themselves as conquerors of the world, not understanding that they were a part of the universe they so desperately rebelled against. Their actions were not against the natural order of things, but rather were the culmination of the expected due to evolution and change.
In other words, they had not broken free of their natural constraints. Rather, it was those very constraints that led them to build societies and separate themselves in the first place. To those who were born and raised in it, perhaps that couldn't be seen. For someone like Finn though, introduced to it after he had already breached adulthood, it was so painfully obvious. How could someone who saw the ludicrous nature of man integrate himself seamlessly? It was an impossible ask, one barely made to happen due to the caring guidance of his older brother.
That support could not last forever, though. His brother had left him long ago, beginning a unique adventure all his own. And only recently had Finn heard of his brothers death. It was a natural one, having reached the end of life. Yet the news didn't sadden Finn the way that he had anticipated. When the news got to him, he'd once thought, he would grieve. Yet it seemed, more than anything, to be the smack of reality that he needed. Birth was a natural stage of life, and so too was death. All Jake had done was reached the end of his cycle, and whatever happened next was simply a natural next step.
Yet, for Finn, it was the signal that he didn't need to struggle any more.
Finn had made his way to a dungeon within Marigold, one that had been linked to the previous dungeon he had explored. In the last one, he found out a bit more about the truth of Durendal, and it had changed his appearance to this vision of otherworldly grace. It had spoken of another dungeon, in which the truth of the world may be found. He had shrugged it off at first, so eager to return to Xandra that he hadn't considered its importance.
Yet now here he was, the midst of Marigold, in the dungeon he hardly even believed in. And sure enough, written on walls in a language long since dead, Finn found a message left by a people who were forgotten from the annals of time.
That was to say, if they ever existed at all. This language was one that Finn only knew due to his father, an adventurer who taught Finn multiple languages as a method of exploring the unknown rather than pursuing knowledge. This language was said to be the words of "Exis", and what they told was a haunting picture.
They told a story of Fiore, yet one so different that it hardly felt real. It was more likely that this was the ramblings of an ancient group of lunatics, rather than fact. Yet the more he read, the more he felt himself be pulled in. It spoke of another world, another iteration of existence that mirrored this one, yet differed drastically. It spoke of a struggle between many powers, but seemed hesitant to list either side as good or evil.
And finally, mentioned that the struggle had ended. It had not culminated in a final battle, nor did it simmer on the tides of war. Rather, it seemed time itself had effected all of the forces. All of them except one, an existence who found himself separate from time. Finn traced his fingers over the words, etched deeply into the stone cave so as to never wear away.
"Xun..."
It spoke of a man, born human, who had somehow transcended that into a realm of Gods. He had established himself as ruler of earthland, and as time went on, those of flesh began to revolt. The battle did not end, so much as time continued to tick. Rather than being the victor, it seemed to suggest that something else happened entirely. Xun may have outlasted his opponents, but according to this, he himself was eventually destroyed. It detailed the universe itself, resetting, due to the return of the original.
The one.
The creator.
Finn tried desperately to read this name, but unlike the rest of the words, this one had been viciously attacked. Whether the one who wrote these words lashed out in anger at the memory of this, "The One", or whether or not another had come through, Finn couldn't know.
Yet, in reality, Finn didn't care. Standing there in the cave, dressed down to just his undergarments, Finn had painted himself over in bloody symbols that matched that of the cave. He had climbed to a ledge, far above the ground, and stood looking out at the world before him. There was a chance that he had gone crazy, and he knew that. Yet still, this was what he had to do. He had committed, and in the worst case scenario, he'd finally be home with his family.
Oh, how he missed them.
Closing his eyes and spreading his arms wide, he breathed in deeply. Perhaps it was the air here, and probably it was nothing at all, but he could have sworn he felt mana within this cave. A mana that seemed to radiate from the words of the wall. A mana that seemed to come from somewhere else, both in this world and out of it. And he felt, or perhaps chose to feel, that mana entering him.
And with that, he fell. And as he fell, he let his mind grow blank. With a thud, he hit the ground. The damage, an unknown amount, had been done to Finn. A light trickle of blood escaped from his head, insinuating injury but ruling out death. A man as tough as him would not die from such a thing, but it was possible he would not be the same.
But for now, he slept. And eventually, when he awoke, he had changed.