Gula
"I want that strength," said the man with carmine red curls framing his round face.
Zhangpo was not a handsome man. Not handsome in the least. In fact, most would have defined him as grotesque, and that was putting it… lightly. Chances were that he had grown up the ugly duckling. Instead of that transformation into a swan, however, he simply remained the same.
If I cannot be handsome, he thought, then I want power. More than what I simply obtain by eating. My looks do little except to make old women run in fright and babes cry.
How would he obtain this? Power was easier said to acquire than to truly hold in the palm of one's hand. It was a bit of a sad realization for the repulsive man, but it spoke in oodles of truth.
He wandered the world of Drakengard, only vaguely blinded to its plights. His desire of strength ranked above all else, and as most things had been, Zhangpo cared little for the opinion of others, especially when they disagreed with his. This mindless meandering, however, came to cease when he found a position he could fulfill—if he had power.
Once again, he needed some type of strength. He wanted this obligation.
Across the land, there were sanctuaries, upheld by the sacrifices required to maintain order. These areas were referred to as seals. Under the command of Hierarch Verdelet, the Knights of the Seal were charged with protecting the seals in each district. It was said that if they were destroyed, a chaotic force would arise and annihilate the world.
This had happened once before, Zhangpo recalled. Nearly fifteen years before, the seals had been destroyed by the Cult of the Watchers. They'd chosen a young girl to represent them and in a mad fit of insanity she had used the Empire to accomplish her tasks. The seals fell, one by one, and the goddess too, paving the way for the monstrosities even more frightening than Zhangpo himself.
There was a young man, however; a young man who cooperated with Verdelet's requests and put a stop to the Cult of the Watchers. He must have held compassion, for her did not kill the young girl for her foolish attempts to wreak havoc. Instead, he chose to torment her. It was said that her own eyes needed to see the pain and suffering she had caused. In order to do this, she accompanied the young man through bitter snow, harsh rain, glorious sunshine, and days of overcast shadows.
Then they both mysteriously vanished. Not a trace of them in the least. The world's hero and the world's villain gone from the plane, it seemed.
Security was tightened at the seals when years later they were struck by opposition. The rumour was that it was a deed done by an eerily-familiar one-eyed man. He never chose to explain why he was doing such a terrible thing, but after the dead of General Oror, a rather well-known knight, they had no other choice. And of course, that was only the beginning.
Zhangpo heard threats of a revolution. He couldn't define 'world destruction' as a revolution, however. It seemed more like a setback. Why destroy the world? What was the point? It was a rather selfish action, considering the other possibilities. It was then, he decided, that he would give his entirety to protect the seals. He would dedicate himself fully to the protection to the District of Soul Flame.
When he thought about it, he was already a knight under General Gismor's command. He simply wanted to prove his strength and show that he was entirely a capable man. That was how his lust for power had motivated him. It was so old-fashioned for a knight to fight for a lady. If he was required to have a lady in his heart, it was the land.
"I want that strength," Zhangpo repeated, peering up to the creature before him.
It was like a gigas. Like one, but not exactly the same. These were the types of creatures he'd read about in books. When fate had decided Zhangpo would cross paths with the creature of fire, the knight knew what he had to do.
"I said give me that strength!" he began to whine, like a child who'd had far too much candy and wanted more, but was denied the request.
The creature looming above him was unmoved. How could anyone stand to listen to such a sound? Who could ever truly want to have a partnership with such a power-hungry fool?
Then it came to him. Well, it. Some might have said the creature of fire was genderless, but such masculine traits implied that it was definitely of the masculine gender, and would become the alpha of that doomed relationship.
"I am Ifrit and I have heeded your call," he managed to respond with a voice that boomed like thunder.
Zhangpo nearly trembled. What a frightening creature indeed! With that standing behind him, those revolutionists would stare in fear, turn tail, and flee. This had been the power he was searching for.
"Then we will create a pact!" the man exclaimed.
"A pact, indeed," came Ifrit's reply.
I will take from you what you consider to be most precious, however. Are you prepared?
What Zhangpo failed to realize was the idea that one could not take without giving something in return. There was a price for a pact and rightfully so. In due time, Zhangpo would be fully aware of the terms.
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Pact partners were bound by the soul. One could not die without the other, and one could not live without the other. As a result, it created a dependent relationship between the two, something Zhangpo had needed quite badly. He was a man with coworkers, not allies and Ifrit seemed to change that.
The newly-made lieutenant came to find, however, that he would have preferred to give up his friend. For when he made this pact with Ifrit, he lost the ability to experience the privilege of food, a shock for a man who liked to eat, and had done such to a great extent throughout his childhood and adolescence.
"I thought the mutton at the festival was quite good, commander. It was such a well-deserved outcome for how hard everyone has worked."
Zhangpo glowered when he overheard those words. Just the mere mention of food caused his mouth to salivate. He could only imagine what they were speaking of. He could only picture those slick juices streaming down his throat. He would never again experience that delight.
In a rage, he stormed over to the knight addressing his authority. Taking him by the collar of his uniform, he fought the temptation to choke the life out of him.
"If I ever hear another word about food from you, I'll have my axe do the talking!"
Then he stumbled back, ignoring how strange it must have seen the difference between the statures of the two men. Zhangpo's lack of height was one more curse and seemed to add to his repulsive nature. As he moved in the direction of his private quarters, he found himself grumbling.
"No matter how much I eat, I never get full! It's as though I've never eaten!" he snarled as he roughly pushed his door open.
Upon the end table beside his bed was the food he'd taken from the banquet the night prior. He'd had a habit of taking more than he could eat in one sitting. It'd been brought up once before, but Zhangpo had such a tantrum that he was immediately excuse. Excused, but not forgotten.
He reached for a roll and barbarically shoved it between his teeth, hardly taking the time to chew before swallowing. What was the point when you couldn't taste your food? There was none. It was like chewing on water.
Then he grabbed another. And another. Until he had four packed into his cheeks, the way a hibernating squirrel held onto its acorns. With a rough swallow, he growled as he reached for a chalice of the red wine that had been served that evening. No matter how potent it might have been, his stomach felt nothing.
"Zhangpo, you fool!" he hissed.
And fool he was. A man who had given up his love for eating for power and strength. A man who was as ugly as one could become, on the outside and the inside. A man who lacked charm and wit.
Such a man was not fit for the world. Consumed by his gluttony and without a stomach to tell him to stop, Lieutenant Zhangpo would surely eat himself to death.