As the world finally embraced the arrival of peace, the people of Elijah swore they could once see fine debris swirling in the air that displayed all the colors of the spectrum as it glinted in the light of the dawn, before disappearing just like that. Unbeknownst to many, the debris was remains of Giganscudo, asked by its summoner to remain beneath Elijah city at all times, and to surface as its protector when needed. He had sealed into the colossus a good amount of his power, enough for quote "a decent rumble or two" and told it that if it ever runs out, he'll be back to "recharge it". But the mysterious man didn't have much to worry. His belief lies with the young that has been entrusted with the duty to protect peace. If ever the world is threatened, he would appear once more, as he watches over the world always. The alchemist eternal.
After some time back on the vagabond road, the man learned about Striker and his renowned title as the Red Assassin years before, and what is it that the lad did. Protecting the weak from harm and healing the sick whenever he could. As if inspirational, the man decided to do just that, and follow Striker's example, as part of his act towards redemption. Indeed, tales of a man that manipulates metal unlike any of magic, saving villagers from harm, vanquishing terrible beasts, donating coins of gold to those that need it, freeing slaves from the remaining of slave traders without using violence and healing plagues altogether with his knowledge on medicine surfaced over the years, but it didn't help his fame that he wore at all those times a mask reminiscent of a salamander's features. Nonetheless, many that he helped know that it was never fame that the man sought. Due to his surreal and mystic nature, coupled with rumors that the man could control time itself, the mysterious alchemist was given the moniker the 'Guardian of Time'. Like a phantom of the day, he appeared and disappeared at the blink of an eye, but his presence never malevolent. Those that do manage to see his face described it as that of a young man's, but with the most ethereal and benevolent smile they've ever seen. Akin to the smile of a man that died happily and at peace. And some stories even state that at times, the presence of a young woman with golden locks can be seen at his side, the two holding hands as they walked down the hill... together.
A day after a period of unknown time after the battle of Elijah...
A young boy and his friends tried in vain to retrieve a kite that got stuck amongst the branches of a tree in a simple village atop a hill in the middle of a sunny afternoon.
"It's no good! I don't wanna throw anymore stones! What if we hit the bee's nest?" one of them remarked.
"Oh, you scaredycat you... Fine, Just watch me climb up there." one of the boys spoke.
"You can't do that! What if you fall?" a girl of the group asked, worried.
"Do you want your kite or not? Don't worry about it! If I'm not strong enough to do this, how am I gonna get to be a knight when I grow up!" said the boy, proceeding to climb up the tree. At the end of his climb, he managed to reach for the kite, and, triumphantly, waved at his friends below with the hand that held the kite. However, his grip loosened and he fell, much to his friends' horror. Suddenly though, a platform of soft elastic material raised from beneath all of them, and formed into two separate platforms with coils of spring sandwiched between. the boy landed harmlessly, and together with his friends were surprised but also delighted at the cushion that suddenly appeared. They turned to see a young man clad in a brown, dirtied cloak. At first the man seemed to loom over them, quiet, advancing towards them slowly, but the children were never scared, and they were right when the young man flopped down on the grass with his back to the tree, smiling at them with a tired expression on his face.
"Haha... Quite the hot weather we're having, eh? I'm parched." said the man, pulling at his cloak to reveal a wooden staff that he placed beside him, resting against the tree.
"Was it you behind this, mister?" asked the boy who fell harmlessly.
"Yeah, I don't think I could've reached you myself that time, sorry. The heat's probably getting to me." said the young man jokingly.
"Then let me get you some water! Wait here, okay?" said the girl
"Oh, thanks. I'd like that a lot." he remarked. The girl left for her house and came back shortly after with a satchel of water in her hands, given to the young man when she reached him. He gulped the water down wholeheartedly, thanking the girl again after he was done. "So, who wants apples?" said the young man, pulling out a bundle of fresh apples in a satchel of his own. The kids delightedly rejoiced at this, their own apple tree not yet bearing fruit.
"Any of you want to hear a story?" asked the young man, having decided to do something as he rested.
"What kind of story?" asked one of the children, all of them resting on top of the soft spongy platform the young man created.
"Well, the tale of the legendary heroes of light." said the young man.
"Oh, we know all there is to tell about that story already, mister!" remarked one of them.
"It's our most favorite story! I like the part about the mysterious army of warriors that helped them! It's all too cool!" said the lively boy that climbed the tree.
"I see... then would you like to hear it from the point of view of someone who was there?" said the young man.
"Whose, mister...?" the girl asked.
"Mine." said Marasmus, turning to face them. "It all began with a piece of an apple..." he began to tell them the story of the legendary heroes of light, from the way he saw it, how he fought a few times with them and against them at the finale. He has to admit, it wasn't a very special version of the story, since he didn't knew them that well. And to boot, he didn't mention all there was to be told, including the assassins, some names (such as Garm's), regarding the gods, and himself. But it was a story that changed his life, and he was determined to let it live on somehow. And the children eagerly listened to the vagabond telling his tale.