Indra Svargaloka

Indra Svargaloka (インドラ スヴァルガロカ, Indora Subairugaroka)

Early Childhood
Born to an archaeologist and magical historian, Indra was raised on the tales of cultures and civilizations long lost to the throes of history. He spent his youth abroad, never settling into one place too long. Together with his father and mother they would explore ancient ruins, dungeons and caverns. Dangerous but exciting to the young boy, Indra was filled with joy and happiness at the wonders he saw. Inheriting his parents natural sense of naivety and curiosity, he was taught a myriad of survival skills, investigative skills, languages and all manner of trivial information relating to exploration. Enamored by the adventurous lifestyle of his parents he longed to become an explorer, discovering lost artifacts and unearthing the mysteries of the world.

Alas, tragedy would befall him and his family while on expedition. Their lives would be swiftly and violently ripped away, while he drifted to shore on the most feared and dangerous region in all of Earthland - Enca, the Isle of Storms. That expedition had begun like any other, his father a renown archaeologist was frequently petitioned by guilds and other organizations as a consultant. This particular guild had spent the better part of thirty years analyzing the chaotic weather patterns and history of the famed Dread Isle. In their findings they discovered several anomalies, weather patterns that were at first deemed erratic were later found out to be what could only be reasoned as deliberate. Someone or something was on the island and had the ability to alter its weather systems.

Confident in their research, and at finally having uncovered the madness of the island's long thought mystery, they desired to venture to the isle and make the greatest scientific discovery in centuries. Indra's parents shared the guilds enthusiasm, and having mapped the chaotic pattern of the storms, they set off. All went according to plan, for the vessel had braved the tempestuous sea's for longer than any before it. Then the storm took on a life of its own, and in their hubris, their ship was smited by thunderous lightning as though the heavens were meting out divine punishment for daring to intrude on this sacred isle. The ship was ripped in half by torrential forces, lightning cracking its hull, and rolling waves drowning all that was left.

Indra was saved from this ghastly fate by the intervention of his parents, who made the ultimate sacrifice to see their love, their legacy and child saved from their mistake. Left adrift at sea, it seemed that death would have been a mercy, and so he drifted until darkness claimed him. When he next awoke it was to the roar of a beast howling in the distance. Through bleary eyes he found himself on a beach, the air smelt strongly of ozone, and his body racked by exhaustion and hunger. Any normal child would have died given the circumstances, for Enca is a place where no human treads and lives, but Indra's sole saving grace, was the courage and knowledge given to him by his parents. Before panic could override his senses, self-preservation mixed with the knowing of what he needed to do to survive guided his hand. So the young boy, frightened but determined, stood upon that sandy beach, and ventured into the wild of the Dread Isle.

The Isle of Storms
Survival. With his parents dead, the crew likely having suffered a similar fate as well, he was all that was left. Having suffered such devastating loss, he had nearly given up, but the final act of his parents sacrificing themselves for his life kept such dark thoughts at bay. Almost mechanically he began taking stock of his supplies, of the lay of the land, and began the arduous journey of his lifetime--- surviving the Dread Isle. It was here, on this god forsaken island that he discovered why no man had set foot on this island and lived to tell the tale. Towering behemoths the size of buildings grazed its fields, tusks and jagged horns alight with raw magic. Predators stalked its forests with preternatural grace and cunning, fading in and out of sight. Fauna every bit as lethal as the monsters that prowled their home waiting to catch their next meal.

It was a veritable death trap, the air itself thick with ozone buzzed with unrestrained magical power, that it nearly made him dizzy. He was just a human, a child at that, so what chance did he have to survive this? For how long could he survive out here in this wilderness where only the strongest, and deadliest creatures seen in centuries called their home? Terror beyond anything he had ever known gripped his heart, but the training and survival skills instilled in him won out in the end. When faced with overwhelming odds, where the environment itself is as much an adversary as its denizens, Indra did the only thing a human could do in the situation. He got creative.

Though the island was home to a number of exotic plants and species, most were simply aberrations of the normal variety that had adapted to the conditions of the island. Adapting human ingenuity to his purpose, Indra fashioned tools from whatever he could find, scavenged after predators and leveraged his resources and higher thinking as best he could. Magic was something that he too was born with, having a mother as mage ensuring the line unbroken. So it was with great earnest that he leveraged that advantage as well, using Archive Magic to map out regions, keep notes on edible plants, poisonous ones, the hunting grounds of predators and as a system to scan and forage for his food and shelter.

Using Artisan magic he fashioned weapons, clothing and traps to defend himself. To his astonishment he very quickly discovered that the creatures of this isle were notoriously durable, highly resistant to many forms of offensive magic and in possession of senses far more developed than an ordinary human. It was not uncommon for his home to be detected despite the best wards and traps he could erect. It was a near daily occurrence that had a brush with death. Several times he had nearly died, a mistake there or being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He remembers in vivid detail how he would sometimes crawl his way to safety, his body bleeding and broken, the daunting severity of his situation becoming all the more hopeless. In those moments where his life hung on the precipice of death, a cold fury would take him, a single mindedness to defy the death the isle wished upon him. So he endured, he prevailed and he lived.

After several months he had begun to settle into a routine, though the isle still bordered on disgustingly lethal, it had become manageable. No longer were his days a frantic blur of heart-gripping terror, dashing from one safe home to the next, but of a practiced meticulous hunter who did what nature had forged him to do. It was at this point where his hectic struggle of survival had become normal, that once again his life would forever change. As winds buffeted him from all sides, the sky turned black as night, a thunderous deafening roar resounded throughout the isle. There above him in all its majesty, was a living force of nature, the embodiment's of Gaia's strength and power, her herald and harbinger, her sentinel and instrument of chaos; the almighty dragon.

The Sky King
Indra's first encounter with the King of Storms was akin to finding oneself in the midst of a natural disaster. No enemy he had faced thus far could even hope to compare to the overwhelming power that washed over him as the tyrant dragon descended on him. The weight of its presence had nearly shattered his mind as the palpable magic emanating rolling off it was a visible force. Instincts forged over countless generations screamed in his mind kick-starting his own reaction before he could even think. Using the link he had to his traps he immediately set them off whilst casting a concealment charm on his person and fled, hoping in the face of certain death he could survive. At the time all he could recall was a sense of vertigo before his world was cast into blinding light, and booming thunder. When he awoke, it was in a cavern that he distinctly recalled being dozens of feet below ground. As he gazed around himself, all he could see was a scorched earth stretching out for miles. The dragon had annihilated the region he had been on, and he had survived on blind luck. Thanking whatever gods out there for his life, Indra once more left to scour the island for a safe haven, but it was not the last time he would encounter the dragon.

Time and time again the mythical beast would appear before him, though on subsequent visits it seemed to have taken a perverse interest with merely playing him. It did not rely on the god-like power of the storm to call forth divine retribution, instead it cleaved through forest with its massive claws, slamming the earth with its tail and reshaping the isle as new fault lines cracked over its surface. Each encounter was its own harrowing experience, a crucible of death that tested him to his limits and beyond. He hurled ever spell, sprung every trap, tapped into every ounce of cunning he could to outmaneuver the dragon in its attempt to kill him. It was just like his first few months on the island. Days passed by with him paralyzed by fright that should he move the beast might catch his scent. After several months of this, he came to the realization that the dragon was toying with him, that it enjoyed this as a game. Rather than be angered by this, Indra found that he was instead relieved. This wasn't some mindless beast hunting him down, it had sapience. Cruel and vicious beyond sure, but it also meant he could once again leverage the only thing humans have in abundance. Unpredictability. And after honing his magic, reflexes and abilities against this creature he had that in spades.

So rather than flee, he would sometimes set traps and attempt to engage the dragon in combat. Other times he left tribute, which were of course properly trapped and triggered to blow up in its face. There were encounters where he was friendly, laughing whilst evading the beast, howling with mirth as he danced around its attacks. On darker days he would scream till his lungs burned, cursing the dragon for its tiresome game. Above all, he never tried to be predictable, when the dragon expected him to run, he fought, when it thought he would fight, he would run or hide. To his shock he succeeded more often than he lost, but that was fine in his mind, because he knew that this was a game, and as long as he continued to play, he could survive. Three years passed in this fashion, and by this time he was now a young man on the cusp of adulthood.

It was at this time that the game Indra had grown so accustomed to changed. Once more the King of Storms appeared before him, but it did not engage him as it usually did, rather the being spoke, and with it all preconceptions he had about the dragon were validated. It was as vain as he imagined, actually more so, which was an impressive feat in of itself. It spoke in varying tones of amusement but it was mostly condescending. Still it had been some time since he had last spoken to another beyond himself and he was quite frankly starved for any kind of social interaction. So they conversed, discussing all manner of things, and to his delight the King of Storms now known by its name Vritra was a surprising repository of knowledge long lost to the human world. Though it had begun dialog, that did not mean the game between them was over. Now Vritra would forewarn Indra of his impending attacks and remarked that it would expect to be surprised. Taking such a warning as gospel, Indra endeavored to ensure that the King of Storms remained amused by the hunt, lest it lose interest and slay him where he stood.

Thus the game continued and on occasion Vritra would forgo battle and test the mettle of Indra's mind. They debated hotly on the topics of humanity, its history and place in the natural world order. They discussed contemporary notions, philosophy and the history of the world. Through this dialog, Indra came to grasp with all of his humanely intellect the alien mind of a Dragon. Timeless and seemingly immortal, Vritra's perspective on life and the world was beyond anything his mortal mind could wrap itself around. For Indra it was his own travels that intrigued Vritra, whom found his adventures through ruins to be amusing when he would unravel their mystery. The topic of magic however would prove to be the catalyst, as Vritra would reveal how much had been lost through the ages. It further explained how weak humanity had become, magically speaking and that no amount of effort would ever allow them to regain the glory they had lost. Personally Indra had felt that Vritra was grandstanding as usual and rather than stay silent on the matter, challenged the mighty dragon. That it would be he would discover these lost magics and obtain the skill and power to defeat even Vritra. There was a moment where the look of shock on the dragon would mean his immediate death, but instead he was rewarded with bloodied ears as Vritra roared with laughter, its voice like the crack of thunder. So amused by his declaration, the King of Storms bestowed on Indra the ultimate gift- knowledge, and understanding.

Indra had survived three years against Vritra's assault, had not only weathered but thrived in the magic rich environment of the Dread Isle, but the Dragon King's own mighty presence. Now? Indra could engage in such conversation without his mind disintegrating at such close distance. Indeed his body had been forged by natured, tempered by the hammer that was Vritra and reborn as something more. His body had undergone changes he had thought natural, but upon revelation were a necessary ritual to learning the very magic that was Gaia's chosen. He had at his fingertips the very basis of Dragon Magic and with it the freedom to choose his own path, to build his own destiny. It was a gift with an unspoken promise; that Indra would endeavor to reach his stated goal, or die trying. Vritra would now and forever be the final adversary of Indra. Oddly enough he was quite satisfied with this resolution. Thus he began his training in harnessing the power at his disposal to mold a magic capable of standing on equal ground with the fearsome King of Storms.

Mantle of the Slayer


Vritra did not offer to teach Indra his own unique brand of Dragon Magic, nor did Indra ask. He had vowed to defeat Vritra and acquiring Lighting Dragon Magic would have been moot. Regardless of his efforts, or talent it was impossible to close the several thousand year gap between them in terms of skills and understanding of that element. Vritra had long since mastered his own power, so attempting to turn it against its sapient embodiment would have been a fool's errand. Instead Indra looked elsewhere in nature, traversing the island, until he witnessed a strange phenomena. Across the main isle, was Mount Meru, the harshest and perhaps deadliest region of Enca. Glacial winds, endless snow storms and frigid temperatures ensured that few if any life survived on its shore. But to him, Mount Meru was the answer he had been looking for, the frozen mountain may as well have been its own kingdom, one not even Vritra had conquered, though that may have been because it lacked the sport Vritra enjoyed. Still it represented a source of power that could in time equal the King of Storms. His destination in mind, Indra prepared himself, gathered all the necessary supplies and set off.

Mount Meru was a monstrosity in of itself, a nightmarish mountain composed of five peaks, each their own private hell. To even access the island one had to cross the churning sea whose temperatures were so cold as to be liquid ice. Save for the most resilient beasts, few if any creatures could survive its waters. And even should one manage to cross the ocean separating the mountain from the main isle of Enca, the mountain itself was even more dangerous. Each peak was composed of a staggered array of sheer cliffs, howling winds powerful enough to hurl behemoths off its tundra, blinding snow storms that made navigation a crucible in of itself, as well as the most vicious and cruelest of the species native to Enca. To Indra whom had survived three years against the onslaught of Vritra, Mount Meru felt like home.

Frozen Dragon Slayer Magic
Frozen Dragon Slayer Magic (凍の滅竜魔法, Kō no Metsuryū Mahō)