Some people regarded themselves as great. Some people had been called great by others. There were very few who could actually say they had earned greatness. Like the breeze on a river of time, those who obtained greatness, through whatever means, were allowed to live through an age.
And in this next age, they would be called heroes and villains. People who had impacted the lives of reality to a point of remembrance. They ascended to a higher plane of existence within the mind of those who knew them. Those who shared their story with others. These heroes and villains would soon wither out. Leaving behind only those who truly were great. Those who had earned greatness with the sweat of their bow and hard work they put into making those around understand them. Those that were left were once again carried away into the next age.
They would be known as legends. Be them good or evil, it no longer mattered. They reserved a place in the books of history that none could touch. They were martyrs. They were destroyers. They were saviors. They were people who all had one thing in common. They were not normal. They lived their lives with a single minded conviction that was unstoppable. Something normal people lack. An undying will to see things through.
But when you have one who has earned that status. One who has lived through the ages seeing his deeds live with him. Seeing his past behind him. Seeing a future before him. When you have one who can transcend the mortal bounds of life and ascend into the immortal realm of legend, yet still breath and live with those around him, you have something all together different. Something that is feared and looked upon with an awe of wonder. Something that very few can actually fathom and understand. You have a god.
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Sorlamain looked from the perch of his Temple. The only place he called his own. The only place he let none venture. This was his realm. Everything about it was bred for him. It was a modification of his will. Much like his ability. Something few understood. It was called Arcane. An ability of will. A measure of strength that few could control and even fewer could master. But it tied into everything that lived, everything that was organic and not. It was tied into the very fabric of reality. And it was extremely dangerous. So much so that it was not considered an element like the rest.
It sat alone on a pedestal looking down upon everything. Keeping a tender balance that was threatening to rupture. A balance that was threatened by the very existence of those around it, and yet could not survive without them. A constant battle of will. And yet it had survived for more years than even Sorlamain could count. At the beginning there was no one controlling the balance, and yet it held true. This enigma was something that he thought about on a daily basis. And in his near unlimited understanding, he could barely fathom a reason for such an occurrence. Which would prove to be exhausting.
His mind was capable of marvelous feats. But, pitted against something as complex as the understanding of the most basic element, he was near powerless. And yet, he challenged himself every day to delve further and further into his understanding to grasp even more of this magnificent puzzle. And slowly, through the tedious years, he was coming out on top of the game. He was confident that he still had much more to delve into, but he also knew that he was long past learning. He was into understanding. He was ascending.
He stood atop his lone tower and with a long breath he let himself fade away into a breeze. Time had come to Begin anew. He was needed.