The most impressive thing about Greg’s new form was the fact that it was only marginally smaller than his previous one – the devil was still almost three metres tall, and the armour still got him nicely.
"Do you still remember how to speak after two centuries?" Leon asked with a hint of amusement.
"I do." Greg’s voice was deep and smooth, not exactly something you’d expect from such a heap of muscles. "You have no idea how many times I wanted to scream at you but couldn’t because of that armour."
"I think I do, you conveyed your displeasure quite clearly through gestures."
"Clearly not enough, since you kept doing those things." Greg stood up and smiled faintly. "I think it’s high time I introduce myself properly – I am Gregathour of the third Kalinaar, but you can keep calling me Greg. It’s not like anyone uses the full one."
"Could you tell us your story? Or at least all that you can remember, I know the Blight can mess with memories." Calen said.
"My mind is intact since the Serakhiin purposefully kept my kind only partially corrupted, otherwise we wouldn’t be able to do our job properly – but I’m getting ahead of myself, let’s start from the very beginning..."
Asmarii were a pacifist race living on a world far, far away – perhaps on a different plane of existence altogether.
They had no concept of war or conflict, and led peaceful lifes dedicated to perfecting their craft. Whether you were a farmer or a merchant, your standing in society was the same; their world was prosperous and most people were content with their lives.
That was why they stood no chance when the Blightborn invaded.
It was during the early days of the Serakhiin empire, they couldn’t control the Blight perfectly back then and their military prowess was nowhere near where it’s now – but it didn’t matter in the least.
It was still a giant army against farmers and artisans who have never seen a weapon in their lives.
The world were they lived was utterly destroyed, and the population was decimated – from what remained the Blightborn picked out the members of the third Kalinaar, a caste comprised of artisans and physical workers, and turned them into slaves.
Unfortunately for the Serakhiin the Asmarii had a lot of defiance left in them – they tried to rebel any chance they got, despite the fact that each attempt had failed miserably.
Normally the Blightborn would simply fully corrupt the slaves and be done with it, but here the situation got tricky for them; the meat puppets created with Blight wouldn’t be able to fullfill the purpose of the Asmarii slaves.
To produce good weapons and armour, they needed to retain their skills – which meant they also needed their memory, and at least a bit of free will.
In the end they settled on a partial corruption – just enough so that they can influence the slaves through the Blight, but not enough to impede their intelligence or skills.
Asmarii were not weak enough to completely surrender to the faint whispers of the corruption, but if the Serakhiin think it’s not enough they’ll increase the corruption rate and they might very well fall under its influence then.
The obvious solution was to fake the obedience, while continuing to work on liberation when no one was watching.
Their plan was relatively simple – create something that could protect them from the influence of the Blight, and then follow the Blightborn on one of their conquests to find a reliable ally – a world that unlike them, could resist the invasion.
Many centuries later they finally found what they were looking for – a first world were not only the natives weren’t completely eradicated or enslaved, but they resisted enough that the empire maintained a partial military presence on the world despite its supposed status as ’conquered’.
With a population-wide vote, it was decided that Greg would be the one to infiltrate this new world and try to secure an alliance.
He was given the amulet created by their kind’s best artisans that could suppress the effect the Blight had on his mind.
It wasn’t difficult to learn the common tounge of the Sun Kingdom before he went on his quest – the Blightborn brought back the translation matrix from there, and as a tool it was under the supervision of his people.
With the precious relic in hand, he crossed the threshold between the worlds undetected – but alas, the luck wasn’t on his side.
On the outskirts of the royal capital two Serakhiin guards spotted him. He knew that if they managed to rise alarm, his mission would be doomed.
Even though his people changed through the ages they spent enslaved and were no longer pacifistic or peaceful, they still considered killing a big taboo.
But he didn’t have a choice.
So he killed both of them, before they even had a chance react.
He felt the irony as he bent their swords and crushed their armour with bare hands – objects created by his kin, to protect their oppressors.
Greg managed to escape the capital in one piece; after that he wandered through the wasteland for a while – apparently the corrupted beasts didn’t consider him a threat, or simply ignored him for some reason.
His pointless journey came to an end when he met a strange man standing in the middle of nowhere.
The man told him to head west until he saw a great castle – people there would welcome him with open arms.
Greg wanted to ask him who he was and how did he know that, but the man disappeared into thin air as soon as he blinked.
Still, he decided to listen to the advice – worst case scenario he’ll still be lost.
Soon enough he did find the castle, and the people inside indeed took him in after listening to his story.
Soon enough he had a suit of armour that permanently protected him from the Blight, and in exchange he joined the Order as a knight. If he wanted to free his people he needed strong allies – like the Order.
With time he came to see the members of the order as his second family, and the rest is history.