Why she had brought up the prophecy earlier.
It was to plant the idea in my head.
To soften me up before dropping this insane bombshell?
I had completely missed it.
Gunther then scoffed loudly at Talia's statement.
"Don't be absurd, Talia. How can this abomination be the chosen one?"
Talia didn't flinch, her attention on the chief.
He was the only one that needed convincing.
"Scaly skin, gluttonous appetite, a strange troll with no memory? It all fits."
I snapped my head toward her.
"I'm sorry, what are we talking about here?"
Orgrun golden eyes scanned me, calculating, his gaze heavy with something I really didn't like.
"Looking at him closely… I can see the traits."
Oh. Hell. No.
Gunther—the oversized brute who hated my guts—stepped forward, jabbing a thick finger in my direction.
"He can't be the one, Chief! He killed humans! He broke the law!"
I rolled my eyes. "I didn't kill the humans. The ogre did."
Did that really matter? No.
But I refused to be falsely accused.
Gunther's voice rose.
"But he ate them!"
A collective gasp rippled through the trolls.
I crossed my arms not caring about the reaction.
"I also ate the ogre. You left that part out."
The murmurs grew louder.
Some trolls looked horrified.
Gunther was fuming.
But then, cool and composed, Talia spoke up.
"The law doesn't say anything about eating corpses. It's not that big of a deal"
Gunther countered.
"And what if the humans find out? What if they saw him? Do you think they'll believe he wasn't the one who killed them? His actions put all trolls at risk! Don't you understand that?"
The air tightened.
Then Orgrun spoke.
His tone was unreadable.
"He ate the humans?"
Gunther nodded sharply.
"Yes. Barely left anything behind."
Silence.
And then Orgrun's golden eyes landed on me.
I flinched.
His stare was heavy, like the weight of a mountain pressing down on my chest.
Was he about to sentence me to death?
Or worse—zap me into ash where I stood?
But...
Orgrun's lips curled into a grin.
"Then he really might be the chosen one."
The entire village froze.
Gunther looked like someone had just smacked him with a club.
His mouth opened and closed, trying to form words, but all that came out was a confused sputter.
The other trolls weren't any better—wide eyes, dropped jaws, and a few muttered curses.
Gunther bristled, but before he could retort, Talia stepped forward.
"He has the skin traits, Chief. And the prophecy spoke of a troll marked by hunger. What more proof do we need?"
I stiffened.
Marked by hunger?
That sounded a little too on the nose for comfort.
The trolls were getting louder, their voices a mix of excitement, disbelief, and straight-up hostility.
But then...
BANG!
Orgrun slammed his staff into the ground.
The impact sent a ripple through the earth, and just like that, silence fell over the entire village.
He let the quiet stretch, his fingers tapping rhythmically against a thick tree root beneath him.
His golden eyes burned with something unreadable.
"It is true," he finally said, his voice carrying across the gathering, "that our legends speak of a troll who will restore magic to our people. One born from struggle. One who takes the strength of others to make it his own."
Then his gaze locked onto me.
"Tell me, Sylas… does that describe you?"
My jaw tightened.
That indeed describes me and what my innate skill could do.
But...
"Sorry," I said, my voice sharp, "but I'm not your savior."
The shift in the atmosphere was instant.
Orgrun exhaled slowly, like a teacher dealing with a particularly stubborn student. "You reject the notion."
"Of course, I reject it," I snapped. "I don't believe in destiny, prophecies, or any of that nonsense. You think I'm some divine hero sent to fix your problems? I'm not. I'm just trying to survive."
The reaction was mixed.
A few trolls scowled.
Others just looked… uncertain.
Talia frowned, her fingers curling against her thigh.
Gunther looked pissed. Again.
Seriously, dude, make up your mind. One second, I'm not the chosen one.
The next, you're mad that I don't want to be? Pick a lane.
Orgrun, though, was the total opposite.
The old troll just sat there—calm.
Watching me. Almost like he'd expected my answer all along.
"You say you do not believe in fate," he mused, his deep voice steady, "yet fate has brought you here."
I snorted. "No... it was more like a series of really bad decisions."
That earned me another chuckle.
A low, gravelly sound, as if he hadn't laughed like that in a long time.
Still, there was no disappointment in his eyes. No frustration.
If anything, he looked… amused.
"I am an old troll, Sylas," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I do not have much time left. But before I pass, I wish to see magic return to my people."
"Yeah, still not interested," I replied instantly.
Silence.
Talia's eyes widened like I'd just spat on their ancestors.
The other trolls tensed, shifting uneasily. A few growled under their breath.
I half expected one to lunge at me for being rude.
Orgrun sighed in disappointment.
"Why?" he asked, his voice calm but heavy. "Do you not wish for your race to thrive?"
I clenched my jaw.
"I do, but if you're not willing to resort to aggression towards humans then the grand dream is unattainable."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final.
No one spoke. No one moved.
The only sound was the wind, whispering through the silver leaves above as if nature itself was waiting for a reaction.
Then—Orgrun smiled.
Not a smirk. Not amusement.
A slow, knowing smile. Like he had expected this.
He turned to Talia. Not a hint of doubt in his eyes.
"He is the chosen one after all."
My scowl deepened.
Everything I said, to deny this ridiculous prophecy…
Only convinced him more.
I yelled.
"How many times do I have to say it? I am not who you think I am."
Orgrun didn't waver.
"Perhaps," he said, voice steady, "but the winds of fate do not care what you believe."
I clenched my jaw.
That sounded like bullshit to me.
I wasn't some grand hero.
I was a coward—someone who ran away when life got hard.
Then I died a pathetic death, alone and forgotten.
And now they wanted me to be responsible for an entire race's future?
Yeah, no.
I pushed myself to my feet, my muscles tense under the weight of their stares.
The multiple sets of glowing eyes locked onto me made me uncomfortable.
"Where are you going?" Talia asked, her tone cautious.
"I need some air," I muttered.
The moment I stepped back, Gunther shot up like a coiled spring, his spear clenched tight in his grip.
"A stranger like you doesn't just get to roam around our home."
His stance was rigid, ready for a fight.
Orgrun, however, simply raised a hand.
"It's fine, Gunther. Let him."
Gunther hesitated, his grip tightening.
"But..."
"It's our fault for dropping such a heavy burden on him," Orgrun continued. "He needs time alone."
Gunther exhaled sharply through his nose but obeyed, lowering his spear.
I turned away, stepping into Troll Knows Where simply strolling around the village.
But even as I walked, a thought gnawed at me.
Was this all just a setup?
Had the divine beings that sent me here planned all of this? A way to force me into living a more "productive" life compared to my last one?
If so…
It was really thoughtful of them.
But I'll pass.