Stories existed not merely to lull innocent children to sleep, but also to warn and foreshadow.
In countless tales of heroes and myths, only by coming infinitely close to death could one earn favor from beyond this world.
John asked Tos to find him some sturdy rope.
Tos had no choice but to head into the forest and hunt Tiger Grass Dragons.
He also fashioned a spear from a giant's bones.
Once John was ready, he told Tos to wait outside for ten days.
If he had not emerged after ten days, Tos was to return the way he had come.
With the power of the Dragon Contract, Tos was now a completely different man.
Even if he returned to his former town, these abilities would allow him to become a respected warrior.
Tos was reluctant to leave. He could sense that John was about to do something dangerous.
During their time together, he had come to understand the man he ought to call his master.
John was immensely powerful and possessed terrifying magic.
He also had the pride of a man whose word was final.
No matter how many times Tos was pierced through, John would heal him, but never help him kill prey that rightfully belonged to Tos.
He followed equivalent exchange, just as he had signed a Contract with Tos because of his loyalty.
But he would not let Tos have that piece of dimmock gold ore out of sympathy.
Tos dawdled on his way out.
He silently stood guard outside with his shield.
"The gods, huh? Asgard's records mention a Pantheon of the Gods. The deities there receive worship, which is both faith and power."
Walking around the spring, John dipped his hand into it and closed his eyes.
"The language of elves is the language