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The Doom Slayer watched the snow dragon closely who stood by the corpses engulfed by its flames. He learned a few things after meeting the drake. She was a female, had manners like a housemaid, and a kind personality that only a mother could give to a child. But what still puzzled him was not just her owing him as an absolute fealty regarding him as an authority figure but her assistants addressing him as "My Lord".

His brow twitches at the mere thought of that word. He only just met her and already he doesn’t know what to do with her.

“My Lord.”

The Slayer looked up in response to her call, he had been so lost in trying to understand this strange drake, he didn’t even notice she was standing in front of him.

“I have disposed of the bodies you massacred. In time the bodies will turn to ash, and no dragon or pony will find their remains.” She announced with her head bowed and her right claw placed to her heart. The Slayer gave her a simple nod to her report.

“Please forgive me, my Lord, for I have not properly introduced myself. I was sent by the great queen of all dragons in the snowy mountains to act as your guide. My name is Zyerks, daughter of Blazer, my mother, and great-granddaughter of Kyerks the queen who rules the snowy mountains. It is my duty to be your humble servant and protector, from morning until night, from cradle to the grave, and devote all of my being into your service, my Lord.” The snowy drake known as Zyerks introduced herself with her arms spread out and her snake cyan-like eyes shining.

The Doom Slayer stood there staring at her. His eyes locked with hers, and he paused.

There was no fear, yes, but there was something more buried beneath it, deep behind the surface. Tranquility. Contentment. Peace. Joy.

Sincerity.

He paused, his muscles twitching as they stared at one another. This was ... This was …

She—No, he realized, she—is not like them. She’s not evil. Nor your foe. She was friendly, yes. But she was not evil. Nor did she have the face of a liar or a trickster. There was a look to her eyes, a spirit behind them that the shadows of evil could never replicate. A wellness of the mind and soul that was visible without word or deed.

No, he thought, relaxing somewhat. She is not your enemy.

And yet she was happy, and that baffled him. How could she be so happy to finally meet someone who’s the most terrifying force of destruction?

All of it flew through his mind in an instant, and he broke eye contact even as she tilted her head, looking down to the floor. Maybe—

“My Lord?”

He looked back to meet Zyerks’s eyes again when she called.

“May I ask for your name?” Zyerks asked, looking at him curiously.

The Doom Slayer cupped the chin of his helmet considering how to answer the question. His eyes went back to the mountain corpses and a thought came to mind. He walked past her heading over to the side grasping his hand around a leg and pulling it with ease pulling out a now charred body of the green dragon, he shoves his hand in the dead drake’s mouth and then yanked it out with a big tooth in hand. The Slayer walks towards a wall and without hesitation stabs the tooth on the wall, the tooth squeals as he slowly carved the letters down. Once he was done he threw it to the side, turning back to face her, and placed his hand on the left side of the wall next to the writing.

Zyerks steps up to look at the wall, getting a chance to read what was written in her master’s hastily scribbled carvings:

Doom Slayer

The words sent chills down her spine but also left her in awe. What a truly scary and yet marvelous title ‘Doom Slayer?’ the name echoed in her head. What is he? He’s not a pony, yes, neither a minotaur nor a dragon but his strength and speed far exceeded that of the princesses. Especially after witnessing him killing the few dragons in less than twenty seconds or less, and he had done it without the slightest hesitation. What is his origin? Could he be someone from a faraway land that has lost his way? Her mind was reeling with questions; it would be best if they were saved for later.

“I see,” said Zyerks, “incredible strength and a spine-chilling title, just like the prophecy has foretold; you are most definitely the Lord I was meant to serve.” Her lips formed a smile gazing at the words in wonderment. The Slayer tilted his head when he heard this.

Prophecy, he thought, what is she talking about?

“Oh, my apologies, you probably don’t understand what I mean,” Zyerks said, patting her tail to the ground, “Here let us sit and I shall tell you everything you need to know.”

The Doom Slayer complied as he threw his Super Shotgun back in his hyperspace inventory then gently sat down cross-legged with Zyerks following suit sitting a few feet away from him. Once the two were comfortable she cleared her throat.

“I suppose you’re curious to know about the prophecy I speak of, correct my Lord?” Questioned Zyerks.

The Slayer nodded answering her question.

“Long ago during the time when Nightmare moon was still in prison within her own moon, my great grandmother’s father gathered his people in an important meeting and told them of a dream he had: a glimpse of a silhouetted creature whose strength and speed far surpasses the princesses themselves, a creature that can cut through legions like a sickle through a field. “Their strength will be our shield,” he said, “They will be the spear that stabs at the heart of our attackers, and those that would seek to harm the ponies, griffins, minotaurs, yaks, and our kind should feel warned,” my grandmother told me when she heard this she thought he was being bonkers,” Zyerks explains while grabbing a shard of gold from the floor, flicks it in the air landing gently in her jaws before snapping shut.

“That is until she had a dream as well.”

Zyerks dipped half of her finger into the dusty floor slowly beginning to draw images of the dream. “It was a little similar to her father’s dream but it was at the end that had a few differences; she found herself walking in a tube-shaped cave, a very long one mind you, moving forward she made it to the end and that’s when she saw it. The same creature that her father saw in her dream, stood a few feet away from her lending a hand to a little drake, and that little drake… was me.”

Her finger stopped as she finished. The Doom Slayer looked down curious to see her work. The image revealed a tall faceless bipedal figure down on one knee lending a hand to a small little baby drake who is trying to reach theirs with their little claws. The only difference between himself and this “Lord,” was that It didn’t wear any armor similar to what the Slayer had on. So what made her think he was the one? Is he the one she’s been waiting for all these years or had he just crossed and screw the prophecy over? He glanced up at her meeting the warmth of her smile yet again.

“I've been looking forward to assisting you since I was a baby drake, my Lord.”

She lowered herself to both knees with her claws down and her head bowed in subservience on the ground while continuing her speech. “When I was told that I was chosen to be your servant I knew then and there I was destined for this; and I want you to know that I’ll humbly do my best to reach for your expectations, where you go, I go along with you, whatever obstacles we face or how low the darkness will take us I wanna face them with you. Now and forever, I’m your loyal servant and protector. But most of all I’ll do my best to guide you. So you can rest at ease.”

As Zyerks finished her speech hoping he would be pleased. Her heart grew with worry though when silence was her only response. Is he not pleased? She thought, her body trembling. She ventured by glancing up at him, her eyes meeting his. His head was tilted to the side even while she couldn’t see his face she could feel his gaze with hers, studying her with such intensity, and the fire persisting; burning, hot and angry.

“M-My Lord? Have I said something that might’ve angered you?” Zyerks asked worriedly.

The Doom Slayer gave a simple shake of his head.

He raised two of his fingers and then placed them on the left side of his neck below the chin giving it light taps whilst gesturing his hand side by side. Zyerks sees this and immediately gasps with her claw over her mouth, understanding the gesture.

“You… can’t speak?” Zyerks asked, her tone one of stunned horror. The Slayer nodded as an answer to her question.

“Did something happen to you that had caused such a thing?” Zyerks asked, almost too scared to imagine the cause of such a fate. He turned away from her, and ran his finger down on the dusty floor writing down something. He finished quickly pulling his hand away, allowing her to read the revelation before her.

One day, I’ll tell you.

“One day?”

Zyerks looks back at the Slayer making sure if what she read was right. The Slayer nodded and she let out a collective sigh.

“Very well,” she said, placing her claw to her chest. “Then I shall wait for the day when you’re fully ready to tell me. Until then, I won’t ask any more about your past.”

Right as she said this the snowy drake places her left claw over her mouth letting out a yawn. She was so caught up that she didn’t even realize how tired she was.

“Well, it’s getting late, my Lord. Let us rest and we can figure out what our first move shall be by morning.” Zyerks said as she stood up stomping her way towards the pool of gold and gemstones then dived underneath them. The Doom Slayer watched as her head turned to gaze at him.

She smiled at him warmly letting out another yawn before telling him in a near whisper. “Goodnight… my Lord…”

Slowly her eyes begin to close. Her body rises and falls beneath the gold as the snow drake drifts off to dreamland. He didn’t want to admit it but she looked kinda adorable when she’s asleep. He shook his head, he shouldn’t be distracted by this and find a spot to nap in.

His armor scans his new cave for a place to sleep. The last time he’d slept was when those vile priests entombed him in the sarcophagus many eons ago. After being put into the Divinity Machine, sleep was rendered pointless to his now immortal body, becoming a leisurely activity or a means to pass time. He considered it a blessing but didn’t help at the fact that all his dreams offered nothing but horrible memories from his past.

Sitting against the cave wall, he rests his head against the cold stone, wishing to himself that he had a pillow. He closes his eyes, toning the midnight ambiance out, and slowly drifts off.

Next Chapter: CH.3 - A Seed’s Homing Pot Estimated time remaining: 38 Minutes