Long ago, when the stars hung lower and the mountains still whispered ancient secrets, there was a legend known only to the boldest of adventurers. It was the tale of
Ent, a giant so immense that his slumbering form appeared to the untrained eye as nothing more than a distant range of hills. But those who dared to journey near his resting place spoke of strange phenomena - the earth trembled faintly beneath their feet, trees towered like watchful sentinels, and the very air seemed to hum with the pulse of life itself.
Generations had passed since anyone had seen Ent stir. He was a creature older than memory itself, and his name had become a myth shared by the storytellers and elders of the land. They said he had once been a protector, a guardian of balance between the realms of men and the world of the wild. But something had happened - no one knew what - that caused Ent to fall into an eternal sleep. Some said it was grief, others spoke of a long-forgotten battle with forces too dark to name. But the heart of the tale remained unchanged: Ent would one day awaken when the land needed him most.

A massive titan stands in the doorway, his armor and helmet gleaming, hinting at a strength far beyond mortal comprehension, guarding the entrance to an ancient, forgotten realm.
The time came for that prophecy to be tested.
The kingdom of Thalon was crumbling. The skies had darkened with the approach of an invincible force, an army of faceless shadows that devoured everything in their path. Entire cities were swallowed by darkness, their people reduced to little more than whispers carried away by the wind. King Orlin, the ruler of Thalon, was a just and brave man, but even he could see that the kingdom's days were numbered. The walls of the last great city, Galenholt, were besieged by nightmares from another world. There seemed to be no hope.
Except for one legend.
Among the warriors and scholars, there was a man named Branor, a young explorer known for his courage and cunning. Branor had spent years studying ancient maps, tracing the stories of the Lost Giants, and piecing together fragments of forgotten lore. It was he who believed that Ent was real. And it was Branor who, with unwavering conviction, argued that the only way to save the kingdom was to awaken the slumbering giant.
King Orlin had little faith in legends, but desperation has a way of rekindling hope in the most unlikely places. With no other options left, the king gave Branor his blessing, sending him with a small company of loyal men to the far reaches of the Forgotten Realm, where Ent was said to rest. Their journey would be fraught with peril, but if Branor's suspicions were correct, Ent might be their only chance.
Branor and his companions traveled for weeks through landscapes that seemed to shift and change with every step. Forests thicker than any they had seen, rivers that sparkled with unnatural colors, and mountains that towered into the very clouds themselves. It was as though the land itself was alive, watching them, testing their resolve. Many times, his men urged him to turn back, fearing the unknown forces that lurked in those wilds. But Branor pressed on, guided by an instinct stronger than reason.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the place described in the ancient scrolls. Before them was a colossal figure, lying motionless among the hills and trees, covered in moss and roots. It was Ent. His skin was like stone, yet his presence exuded an undeniable vitality, as though even in sleep he was attuned to the rhythms of the earth.

Amidst a snowy world, Atlas stands unyielding, his sword and shield ready to face whatever challenges the frozen land throws at him.
Branor approached cautiously, awe-stricken by the sight. The sheer size of Ent was overwhelming. His face alone stretched for miles, his hands, folded across his chest, were large enough to cradle entire villages. And yet, despite his enormity, there was something gentle about his presence. As Branor climbed the giant's resting form, he could feel the slow, rhythmic beating of Ent's heart beneath his feet - a sign that the giant was not dead, only sleeping.
Remembering the words of the ancient texts, Branor spoke aloud the incantation passed down through generations, a call to awaken the old protector. His voice echoed across the vast hills, reverberating through the trees and the earth. For a long moment, nothing happened. The air grew still, as if the world was holding its breath. Then, slowly, the ground began to shake - not in violence, but with the steady tremor of something massive stirring.
Ent's eyes opened, glowing with a soft, amber light. His gaze swept across the land, taking in the devastation of the kingdom and the gathering shadows on the horizon. Though he had been asleep for centuries, he understood at once the peril that faced the world. With a deep, resonant groan that seemed to shake the heavens, Ent rose to his feet, his towering form blotting out the sky.
The army of darkness, sensing his awakening, surged toward the giant, but they were no match for him. With a single step, Ent crushed the wave of shadow that had threatened to overwhelm the land. His movements were slow but deliberate, each step like the falling of a mountain. He reached down to the ground and pulled great trees from the earth, wielding them as weapons against the invading force. The very earth seemed to rise in his defense, as if the world itself remembered its ancient protector and rallied to his side.
The battle was long and fierce, but with Ent's power and Branor's guidance, the shadows were finally driven back into the void from which they had come. The kingdom of Thalon was saved, but the cost of victory was great. The land lay in ruins, its people scattered, and the great protector, Ent, once again grew weary from his mighty task.
Before he returned to his slumber, Ent looked down at Branor, his deep voice rumbling through the air like thunder. "You have called upon me, and I have answered. But the world must now find its own strength. I will sleep again, until the time comes when the earth cries out for me once more."

Amidst the roaring fire, the Juggernaut’s stance is one of defiance and strength, a warrior forged in the heart of battle, facing the flames with unwavering resolve.
With that, Ent lay down once more, his massive form settling back into the earth, where it became indistinguishable from the mountains and hills that surrounded him. Branor and his companions returned to the remnants of the kingdom, hailed as heroes, but they knew the true hero was the giant who slept beneath the land, waiting for the next time the world would need him.
And so, the legend of Ent lived on, a story of hope and courage, reminding the people of Thalon that even in the darkest times, there is always the possibility of awakening the power that lies dormant, waiting for the moment it is needed most.
Thus ended the tale of
Ent, the Giant of the Forgotten Realm. But the memory of his footsteps, and the earth that trembled with his power, would never be forgotten.