Once upon a time, in the north, among the mountains, the giant Gromor appeared. The earth itself had borne him for great deeds: to shift rocks, change river courses, and topple cliffs. His weapon was the trunk of a hundred-year-old pine tree, uprooted. Gromor's power was such that even the demons, the masters of those lands, trembled before him and determined to find a way to kill him.
The shamans dug up all the scrolls, searching for a way to kill the giant, but to no avail. Then the most cunning of them suggested another way: not to destroy, but to shrink him. Combining their powers, the demons wove a treacherous spell from magic itself and unleashed it upon Gromor.
The giant felt no pain, only dizziness. The world around him soared upward, swirled, and became gigantic. A moment later, Gromor, tiny, stood in the palm of a triumphant demon. Satisfied with their success, they abandoned him with a contemptuous laugh and departed.
Thus, the mighty giant became smaller than the dwarf. His legendary club shriveled to a mere twig. Now the familiar forest rose around him like an impenetrable wall of blades of grass and stems.
But the giant's spirit was unbroken. His strength, compressed to a tiny point, only became more concentrated. He learned to leap higher than the pines, and his twig, striking at their weak points, felled hungry creatures who saw him as mere prey.
Gradually, his burning resentment gave way to curiosity. He discovered that being a small giant in a vast world was better than the opposite. From this new height, the familiar world seemed full of interesting details. In the end, he made a deal with his former enemies: he began to assist the demons in their endeavors, cherishing the hope that one day they would restore him to his true form.