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Chapter Text

It was an odd sensation, being afraid of a color.

Roko sat on a chair, observing the cauldron before him. It was a simple black cauldron with a simple mix of ingredients within. Spirits, Herb Paris and Valerian. This concoction on its own would be called the Dollmaker poison, aptly named for its ability to cause people's legs to stop working. The creator hadn't intended it for it to be used that way. Rather, it was supposed to numb cut wounds to allow for medical practitioners to better perform their craft. Of course, like anything in life, it could be used to kill. This concoction did not normally have a purple color.

That came from all the mana crystals Roko had poured into it.

Mana potions could temporarily increase a mage's supply but the effect was not permanent. There was another variant of it, though. This particular combination made mana usage more efficient rather than simply increase it amount. It was a bad idea to waste mana supply on frivolous things so Roko had tried to better his shaping skills, to no real effect. What he could do was limit the amount of mana spent per spell. The Dollmaker poison would first effectively stop Roko from being able to move, so he would need medical mana to restore functionality to his body and he would use the rest of it on various spells. His master had described as an effective and frightening way for juggernauts of magic to better their usage of magic. His crooked fingers released the crate full of mana crystals into the cauldron and they readily dissolved. His scarred face reflected back at him in a strange manner atop the surface of the potion. His scaled hand grabbed a vial and in a quick motion, scooped out some of liquid. With a sigh, he slurped it down, wishing he really could put sugar or honey in without messing up with the concentration levels.

With his legs now numb, Roko spread his mana around his body, activating and deactivating certain functions. Trying to restore his nerves would have been a complex process so he simply disabled them. If his foot hit a corner, he'd simply manage the pain later. Going up the stairs out of the basement, Roko arrived at his main chamber. The chamber was outlined with solid gold panels, each one showing an image of various people of interest.

He sat on a wooden throne, going through various documents as his water elemental companion approached him. She had best taken the figure of a woman but in the end was as dull and boring as a boulder on the wayside. Grabbing a quill in one hand and a cup of wine in the other, he sat down and started going through the documents.

The first one was already intriguing. A farmer had complained that his neighbor had been stealing all of his eggs. He should have had 50 eggs instead he had 42 whereas his neighbor had been having two eggs every breakfast. As there are 7 days in a week, it stood to reason that the neighbor must have either taken an egg every single day or taken eight eggs straight from the get-go and used them in his breakfast palette. Roko was more concerned with how and why the farmer knew the exact number of eggs his neighbor had been eating. Writing down his signature, he wrote down a name and a check for a person to investigate. Detective Haslush would do. He had been poking around in sensitive affairs. Some time away in the countryside would allow Roko to make those documents disappear again. He added a fat check to the case, hoping it would entice the detective, at least filling his curiosity as to why a case involving missing eggs required such wealth and attention.

He stretched back a bit and his companion whispered into his ear.

"Zorian Kazinski is on the move in Hsan."

Suddenly alert, Roko made a hand gesture and his companion took the shape of a screen, showing him a broad outline of Koth. He reached into his soul and then out into the universe, divining the mind mage's location.

Hsan

The continent of Hsan exists to the west of Altazia. Ages ago, it's main trading partner used to be the Ikosian Empire but after the fall of the Empire, the situation in Hsan had worsened. A fairly isolated country, it is ruled by one grand emperor along with a bunch of smaller states. To the north of the continent exists a forest full of tigers. The Western Plains provide most of the food for the continent while the heartlands are where the majority of Hsan's population live. There are strange rumors about Hsan, primarily involving their magic. They have two forms. The first is just a backwards, slow version of the one common practiced in Altazia. The second is some strange pseudo combination of hand gestures and will power, allowing people to literally slap away magic spells, albeit these require immense shaping practice as one wrong move would sever an arm.

To the south of Hsan is Fauxian Island, which is considered even more bizarre than the mainland. How so remained to be seen. The island was surrounded by jagged cliffs. There was only one real way to get there, through a dock that had been carved into the cliff side from the south of Hsan.

At this dock, all kinds of shady activity took place. There was no sea force as such for Hsan but there were pirates and if they could see something that wasn't nailed down, they'd take it. Non-living and living. A pair of men passed by a shanty bar, wearing pristine robes and sandals, looking out of place in the run-down area. Other folk gave them a wide berth, as people who wore such things in such areas were either insane or dangerous. Usually both. With their slanted eyes, they observed an alleyway and stepped into it to receive an important package. With a few hand gestures, the duo began levitating it and brought it down the other end of the alley way to a more crowded location. The Shang Xi brothel stood alone, a red building with bright white lines on the side. It was often frequently by minor lords and major pirates, as a source of comfort as well as income for it was often in these places where illicit trade could be conducted without the Grand Emperor's eye.

The guards opened the doorway, large enough for the package and the duo to enter the building. They were observed by various peoples but not interfered. Going up the stairs required full concentration so the prostitutes, both female and male, on stand-by did no so much as offer food, simply bowing their heads in respect. It was acknowledge by curt nods on the mages part as they took their cargo to the top floor. There a lone man with a thing long beard awaited them, his pale complexion seeming to gain some color upon understanding the nature of their package. He wore a green suit with a straw hat and a pair of swords at his side. He gestured at them to drop the package near his tea table and the duo did so, kneeling and making their heads touch the floor. The man carefully opened the package, which was as big as two men and his eyes observed a prize.

A small blonde boy, tied up with ropes and stuffing down in his mouth to prevent him from screaming. A cloth was tied around his face to keep the stuffing in.

"I wish we had more time, dear boy, but we are on a schedule. Bring all the prostitutes up here, we must crack this one's shell."

"As you command, master."

The duo spoke as one and went downstairs. Upon returning upstairs with a handful of men and women, they were greeted by the master caressing the now awake soon to be slave's skin, his eyes glossed over.

"There is no longer any need of their services. I have taken what I wanted."

"He's a bit young for you master but so be it. It won't matter in a couple of days."

With a nod, the prostitutes went back downstairs and the duo resumed their job of taking the package to the boat, now that they knew for certain that their quarry was what they desired. The old man raised a hand in farewell as theirs back turned before suddenly putting it down, confused at his own gesture. One of the duo grabbed a straw hat on the way down, for no reason other than it was a bit hot outside. Making their way to the designated checkpoint, the package slightly bent down before the duo put more effort into their spell.

"What is it, Straw Hat?"

"Nothing, it just felt heavier for a second."

"Surely you can handle the weight of that thing?"

"Yes but my senses still detect him as human."

"Hmm, how odd. We're almost there, so it won't be our problem anymore."

The duo arrived inside the warehouse, passing through a couple of guards in plate mail who simply let them go. The warehouse was full of big wooden boxes and steel beams, the boxes containing supplies for ships such as material for repair, food and cannonballs. Inside the warehouse was a massive red dragon.

The dragon mage Oganj willed it and turned some water into ice before turning it into snow and rested his head there, a ring lodged into his fingers. The Imperial Orb floated right above him, never truly leaving his side. Without warning, the dragon opened his mouth and blue flames engulfed the man without a straw hat. Whatever shields he had were no match for the Angel Slayer, and he died in agony. His partner simply knelt, awaiting his judgement.

"Hmm, it is good that you show deference to your master. Unlike these other whelps."

Oganj snorted and returned to his slumber as a horde of invisible mages made themselves visible. Each one wore a black cloak beneath reflective glass armor, making it impossible to distinguish one from the other. The squadron of mages knelt their heads to their fallen comrade before turning their attention towards the package. They all made a series of gestures and the package proceeded to levitate onto a previously hidden platform. The platform was then raised by magic to reach the roof. With more gestures, the roof opened a secret gateway and the package floated towards a massive ship, entering through a hole where a canon would have been placed. Once inside, the package was placed inside a metallic cargo container among several other such packages before said container was flooded with a green gas, knocking out the inhabitant of the cargo. With that done, the mages retreated back into the shadows, Oganj resumed his name and Straw Hat walked over to the boat that led to Fauxian Island, mourning the loss of his friend in his heart.

Once on board the ship, he waited until dusk and the journey to the island began in earnest, taking several slaves, an army of mages and soldiers, and weapons to the island in the south. In the morning, Straw Hat made a routine checkup on the packages. Each one of them would have had a person inside so it was mandatory to check which one was still breathing. The holes might have gotten clogged up or someone managed to escape. Either way, Straw Hat would then activate the tracking collar to figure out where they were?

Why was he thinking about this?

He stopped and smelled in the room, taking in the sight for the first time. It had the packages, several weapons lying about and holes for canons to be placed. It smelled clean. He approached the packages. All those and their sweaty bodies would have made the air damp. The packages certainly would have smelled on account of the slaves need to go-

Without warning, his mental shields snapped and he collapsed. Zorian Kazniski stepped out from inside the package, clicking his tongue distastefully at the display. At the very least, he could mentally remove the man's memory of the event, hopefully before his superiors could figure out what had happened. Xvim had warned him that the people of Hsan had unique defenses against magic but this hadn't quite matched the experience of what the arch mage knew. At best, he could easily get Zach off his back about using stealth and subterfuge in this mission. The pirates were far more organized than any random band of outlaws, almost matching the level of organization of the Cult of the World Dragon. And to boot, Oganj himself had been here, with both the Imperial Crown and Imperial Orb in his possession. Zorian didn't think he could beat the dragon even with surprise on his side so he was glad to have put up with the suffering of getting kidnapped. As good a mage as he was, he was not immune to being drugged and beaten senseless.

Back during the transport, he had tricked the old man into thinking he had found whatever he was looking for. Trying to go deeper into what exactly he had been looking for had been deemed too big a risk to take in Zorian's mind since his apprentices would have returned soon but as it turned out, whatever he had been looking for would have been found out quickly. His apprentices were bizarrely under the impression that they should know what the target package would be only for them to have no memory or description of it. It seemed they would be given a target and then knowledge of that target would be selectively scrubbed from each agent of the pirates. Zorian had to admit, it had worked well. Apparently the old man had remembered one thing. That the target would suddenly increase in weight by probing him or her the right way. Near the end of the transport, he even tried going into the mind of the kidnapper without the straw hat. It had given him the same result and Oganj had annihilated the man afterwards. Was it coincidence or intentional? Better safe than sorry so Zorian had remained tied up. If a dragon could learn mind magic, they could take on just about anything, as Zorian had reluctantly found out.

A tracking collar. There had been no other slaves in the pen, much to Zorian's displeasure. The other packages had been opened at Fauxian Island and left back on the ship. Going through Straw Hat's memories, the man would have levitated the package to a temple on the island and then promptly left without receiving further orders. Breathing in and out, Zorian let his soul expand a bit before realizing that someone was divining his location. He let them before figuring out a new plan.

Chapter Text

Apparently, temple had a different meaning in Hsan than it did in Altazia.  The temple was built on top of elevated land, a natural defense that also provided the factor of psychological intimidation. The elevated land in question was the cliffside. Zorian had been right to use stealth for this operation. Trying to take on the fortress by climbing up a sheer vertical cliff would have been quite tedious. In fact, he was curious to figure out how his enemies were going to get the cargo up there. Once the boat got near the cliff, Zorian felt his stomach lurch as the ship simply...floated into the air, carried by the spells of multiple mages working in unison. It was certainly effective. Looking through the eyes of Straw Hat, Zorian observed the temple in detail. 

There was a tall, central tower that likely served as both a command center and symbol of power. The tower was multi-stories with sweeping, tiled roofs and white plaster walls. Defensive walls of stone surrounded the keep and inner compounds. Multiple moats-both dry and water-filled-were layered around the castle to slow attackers. Stone walls were built at steep angles, likely to prevent scaling. Heavily fortified gates controlled access to the place. The gates were set at angles or hidden behind walls to expose attackers to crossfire from mages and archers alike. The watchtowers were situated at key defensive points with what looked like gunmen positioned at their tops. Zorian understood that the labyrinthine layout was designed to confuse and slow people like him with winding paths, sharp turns and dead ends. The inner courtyards had multiple checkpoints and gates, each filled with dispelling wards to prevent teleportation. Each checkpoint was narrow to force confrontation at the defender's advantages. Warrior residences, administrative buildings, and armories were built within the outer walls. Finally, some statues, likely golems were present in the direct center of the temple, with a fountain full of water present in-between the golems, presumably tied to their activation. Beyond the temple was flat farmland where any intruder would be exposed from far off.

It was a good defensive, provided that supplies were present within the keep. The boat floated towards the central tower and the mages began taking out the cargo through telekineses and placing it at the top of the central tower. All those defenses and Zorian had bypassed without so much a second glass.

Of course, the hard part would be getting back out. He waited for the rest of the cargo to get loaded, for the ship to go back down and for the mages to go downstairs to rest. Popping open the hatch of the cargo container he was in, Zorian stepped out and retrieved his equipment, stashed inside the container. The plan to place them there had been an interesting one. He couldn't quite recall the details, they almost seemed to slip by his mind. But he remembered why he was here. Taking out his communications device, consisting of a rock and a glass screen connected to said rock with a bit of string, he waited. And waited. And waited.

And then the signal went through, enabling Zorian to speak first.

"Queen, this is Pawn. I've breached the Hsan defenses and am ready to carry out the mission."

"Oh good. I mean, effective work, Pawn. The last thing we needed was an international incident. Here are your three main objectives.

1) Rescue baby bird from the temple. We're not sure where she is. Considering her status, she is likely being tortured in the torture chambers, if they have one.

2) Eliminate commander Zhao of the Red Fleet. 

3) Uncover the Red Fleet's plans with Ulquan Ibaasa

Bonus objective: Retrieve as much wealth as you can. The pirates likely stole all that from elsewhere. Once you've done all three, disable the teleportation wards and we'll open a gate from our side, enabling your extraction. You're on your own if things go south."

"Understood. Pawn out."

[Taking out a vial from amidst his equipment, Zorian gulped it down, transforming into a Hsan soldier. It wouldn't have helped him in the long run: not only was his grasp of the local language rather but he had no real reason to be anywhere. The penalties for trespassing were severe in every country but in Hsan, the punishment was death. This had lead to some humorous situations in the country's history where a high ranking member of the dynasty would be unable to identify themselves and they'd be forced to kill all the troopers of their own division. Zorian was unsure what the punishment for trespassing specifically for the pirates but he decided to at least make the approach of blending in. If nothing else, his mana would be conserved from the effort. He had brought quite a lot of equipment with him, including but not limited to a grappling hook, a revolver, a knife, a spell rod, dollmaker poison, regular poison, another revolver, small bombs, various alchemical concoctions, a third revolver and a hidden blade. Putting on a mix of a brown black suit, he equipped some wings made of strong filament, meant to support his weight, and opened the window of the cargo bay. Going straight down the stairs was a risky endeavor, primarily because he had no idea who or what awaited him. What mattered most was disabling the base's defenses for a clean getaway and he would start at the fountain.]

Taking a step back, he jumped out the window and glided down to the fountain. Hsan was home to a set of creatures known as the King Bats. They were enormous compared to any other bat variety Zorian had ever seen, having wingspans that were bigger than people. They were also quite harmless, preferring to eat fruit and insects. From afar, Zorian gliding down would look like one of these creatures, giving him some cover. 

[Upon arriving at the fountain, the golems did not activate. So far so good. Focusing inward and expanding outwards, he astral projected his soul into the environment to figure out where the activation mechanism for the golems was located and enabled a large-scale illusion. Searching around, he located it on the fountain in a bizarre mathematical sequence. 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13,21,34. It was clear the numbers were linked to the activation of the golems but why had 1 been repeated twice? Based on the pattern and difference between the numbers, Zorian figured out that the next number would be 55. Slotting it in, he unraveled the activation mechanism of the golems and their chests opened up to reveal their internal structure. Still in his astral projection form, Zorian's soul went inside each golem, memorizing the details within his memory before returning to his host body. Satisfied, Zorian continued the search around the temple. A handful of gunmen observed the fountain area. They did not sound any alarms for in their eyes, nothing had changed.]

Making his way through the checkpoints, Zorian moved in the shadows. He became the shadows. It was an easy enough feat to use shaping on light, he simply warped the color on his clothing to match whatever background he was with. Entering through a doorway, he entered into a kitchen where a couple of guards were playing chess, next to a pot of butter chicken. Zorian reached into their minds and simply willed them to focus on the game more as he climbed the stairs up pass them to locate his prize. Alas, it was not there. And on and off he went, searching every tower, running into every dead end, and removing the dispelling wards wherever he went. The morning sun slowly moved ahead, signaling the endless march of time. After a few hours of fruitless searching, Zorian came to a conclusion. This temple was basically abandoned. All in all, there had only been thirty four personnel present in the morning, to guard this massive fortress against some unforeseen foe. Oganj had been at the docks and Zorian had nearly ended up burnt to a crisp had he not taken the stealth approach but things were so boring.

[Something wasn't right. Zorian moved back into the cargo set to retrieve his clothing. Taking out a vial from amidst his equipment, Zorian gulped it down, transforming into a Hsan soldier. It wouldn't have helped him in the long run: not only was his grasp of the local language rather but he had no real reason to be anywhere. The penalties for trespassing were severe in every country but in Hsan, the punishment was death. This had lead to some humorous situations in the country's history where a high ranking member of the dynasty would be unable to identify themselves and they'd be forced to kill all the troopers of their own division. Zorian was unsure what the punishment for trespassing specifically for the pirates but he decided to at least make the approach of blending in. If nothing else, his mana would be conserved from the effort. He had brought quite a lot of equipment with him, including but not limited to a grappling hook, a revolver, a knife, a spell rod, dollmaker poison, regular poison, another revolver, small bombs, various alchemical concoctions, a third revolver and a hidden blade.]

[Equipping bat wings under the morning sun, Zorian made his way down to the fountain to deactivate the golems. Once there, he found a bizarre mathematical sequence starting with 0.]

"What the hell?"

Whirling around, Zorian immediately fired a magic missile at the golem, knocking it down. He needed equipment.

[Taking out a vial from amidst his equipment, Zorian gulped it down, transforming into a Hsan soldier. It wouldn't have helped him in the long run. It would have...]

Zorian raised the revolver to his head and fired off a shot. The illusion shattered and Zorian awoke back on board the ship.

Except that the ship was on fire and the compound had been razed to the ground.

Corpses lay scattered about, with mangled torsos littering the earth. Eyes, fingers, teeth, all lay scattered about. Zorian wore no clothes, he didn't even have any equipment on him. [He needed to find his equipment.]

"I don't need equipment, I need help. I need, where am I?

[He needed equipment. Zorian needed equipment. He needed to be the best he could be.]

Ataraxia snapped its fingers and the time loop reset.

Chapter Text

Altazia was once united under an Eldemar dynasty, but this ‘Old Alliance’ was ultimately a very loose thing, even by Ikosian standards. It would be more accurate to say that Eldemar was too powerful at the time for the rest of Altazian powers to disobey their dictates. The various lands were more akin to feudal vassals or tributaries than imperial provinces. If Eldemar angered too many of them, the whole thing would fall apart… and indeed, that is what eventually happened. The king of Eldemar made a grasp for power, tried to unify and centralize the alliance more. He knew it would lead to war, but he underestimated the effectiveness of new military technologies, and the effects were far more dramatic than he had expected. Several rounds of destructive warfare ensued, and now Altazia was fractured into a multitude of tiny states.  A lot of people died, many of them mages and nobles. Entire mage families had died out, or were reduced to such a state that ambitious newcomers started preying on them in various ways. Transport links were cut or redirected as close regions suddenly became bitter enemies or economic rivals. In the end, Eldemar almost became irrelevant as it had to focus more on home safekeeping and development. It's kings and queens were regarded as utterly ruthless, preying upon civilians but just on the very edge of a revolution, always negotiating with noble rivals and the Triumvirate Church. Fear was simply a more powerful tool than respect.

That fear had come to bite Roko in the ass today. On this day would he take the crown and become the new king.

The fourth son of King Pious the Third, Roko had a much more free-spirited childhood than his other siblings. He spent his days climbing trees, hunting game and pursuing the fine arts. It helped that he had not been born a mage and as such was not pressured to learn their strange ways. In time, he would grow large, around 7 feet tall and gain a small following of loyal peasants from various businesses. He would have spent his life in luxury, never worrying about future problems.

Until Quatach-Ichl had invaded Cyoria and nearly buried the kingdom.

"Turn the ice into water."

Roko frowned as he concentrated, his shaping skills converging on every single bit of ice, twisting it in and out before turning it into water. He was almost tempted to throw it in Xvim Chao's face after all he had endured from the arch-mage but refrained himself. Just barely.

"Adequate. You may proceed to the next exercise. Do not mistake this for praise. Should it wait before or after the ceremony?"

"Before please. Before I run out."

Roko was not a mage. But there was something else he was: a soul twin. Someone linked to another being through the connection of their souls. He had desperately wished to be a shifter, at least then he wouldn't feel so powerless but no, the person he was linked to was his sister. A sister with magnitude 60 in terms of magic power. They could share this power between them provided that one did not perish before the other. It also meant that anything kept secret between them could only be the result of mind magic, an art the future king was desperate to pursue.

"How stable is the connection?"

"It is petering out as she moves further and further away from me. I wish things weren't so bleak."

“The world is not obligated to accommodate your whims. I am preparing you for that reality. Let us begin. Hold our your palms as though you are trying to grab the very essence of magic. Focus on the shape magic is meant to take. If no shape comes to mind, simply imagine magic trapped in a container. Once you are done, I shall throw a magic missile at your hand. It will be weak but it will still hurt. Do you have the plate mail gloves?”

"Yes."

"And so it starts."

Roko focused on the shape of magic. It was hard in a different way. Like trying to draw a perfect circle. It was more doable in one go than it would be if you focused on drawing it slowly, bit by bit. Mana did not have a shape in the traditional sense of the word. It was fluid, it could take any shape. What mattered was being able to memorize the shape. That was why Xvim had spent so much time, several months, on teaching him shaping skills. What mattered was the nature of a thing. If he could not picture the essence of magic in a form that he could imagine, then magic may as well be beyond him. So at first, he thought of a box to contain all the magic in Cyoria. A large container with each bit modified in the same way he had turned a block of ice into water, by expanding and contracting parts of it. Eventually though, he realized that the magic had to go somewhere. It had to funnel out of the box and into the user. Instead of a box, he instead thought of a funnel, similar to a triangle or a pyramid. A pyramid with a round base. A funnel. It came to him as a filter for magic. Parts of the magic would pass through into him and parts would be filtered out. He felt it in the air around him. The life force of the gods, the food of the demons, the...whatever it was for angels. He supposed it was more power.

He didn't hear it, couldn't even smell it. Xvim had willed it and a small magic missile hit Roko in his palm. 

And it did not go further. It laid suspended there as Roko opened his eyes. His hands had subconsciously formed a shape similar to a snake. It was the closest thing to the original shape in mind.

"Snake hands. Crude but effective. You could pluck out parts of spells and throw them back at people. I would not recommend trying it against Quatach-Ichl. His spells could only be deflected, not redirected."

"What makes you think I was going anywhere that thing?"

"You will be king. Soon enough, you won't have a choice. Let us continue."

And on and off it went, Roko catching and throwing magic missiles back at Xvim whose cool demeanor did not change once throughout the exercise. In an hour, the time for the ceremony came. Drained of magic and out of bounds from his sister, Roko bid the mage farewell as he walked into the grand three-room in his fabulous golden suit.

There, the most powerful figures of each faction awaited him. The head of the Triumvirate Church, casually sipping the best wine Eldemar had on supply. House Aope, House Reid, and House Marivoski had sent their representatives to greet him. Several different factions of merchants and organization had dispatched their representatives for possible negotiations. Notable, the Kazinski business was here to settle on mining operations while the Mage Guild was absent, likely because their leader had ended up being a member of the Cult of the World Dragon, one of the factions involved in Quatach-Ichl's invasion of Cyoria. He greeted every member with a practice smile on his face. They were all required to kiss his left hand. His left hand with two crooked, burnt fingers. And they did so without pause, meeting him in his eyes and trying to avoid staring at the jagged line that ran across his jaw, making him stand out like a pelican eel. His blood red eyes focused in on the Kazinski business representative, who looked very nervous, being among all these influential people.

They were all snakes in the grass, ready to strike at the closest weakness. Roko wasn't much better. His only upside was that he was very upfront about it. Whatever the elites could say would have to wait as the former king of Eldemar walked in along with the Grand Mage and Spymaster, walking alongside him. The whole lot knelt before their former king. Roko merely bowed until the king was right beside him.

"Rise, my son. It is time."

"Yeah."

"Perhaps you will survive what comes next."

"Perhaps nothing comes next."

The throne of Eldemar was composed of bright white oak, enchanted by an angel to resist the passage of time with various rubies and emeralds embedded in it, each one containing magic from beyond this world. Whoever sat on that throne was effectively invulnerable to damage. It was a big throne and it seemed almost perfect for the new king, who sat comfortably upon it. His father, Pious, placed the Jeweled Scepter at the side of the chair and awaited the Grand Mage, waiting to hear his words with bated breath.

"Here stands the throne and on it sits your new king. All hail Roko, first of his line."

"All hail."

Roko grinned, waiting for the rest of the speech to complete.

After that, the hours had gone by in a blur. As the fourth son, Roko was to be the face of the kingdom. Ulquaan Ibasa's brazen assault upon the empire could not go unchallenged. His elder brothers had all decided to gather their different forces and convene them for a combined strike on the lich. It was horrible. Here they were in a crisis and his family could do was bicker. Pious would not allow even one of them on the throne, despite his heart problems which had started upon him receiving the news of the invasion. Eventually, the family had come to a compromise. Each of the brother's forces would strike at Ulquaan Ibasa from different directions, land, sea and air. Whoever was the most effective would be crowned king. Pious needed rest for medical mages to make his body better. And his mother had already passed away. That left Roko as the perfect replacement. The invasion would surely not take long and Roko would manage until either one of the brothers returned with news of glorious victory or the king had regained his strength. Hopefully, he would not botch things up in the meanwhile. His sister was too busy attending mana classes in Koth. So long as the gate between the continents was open, the two of them were connected but whenever it closed or she moved too far away from the Gate, he would feel his connection with her close. He was also signing for a death threat. Any number of forces would pay well to see Eldemar taken down a notch and they would strike now, while the kingdom was vulnerable. From an outside perspective, it was madness to place the fourth son on the throne.

In his father's mind, he knew that were it not for his elder brothers greed, Roko would have been the best choice for the throne.

"My lord?"

"Hmm?"

The Kazinski representative approached him. For a moment, Roko considered peering into his memories to figure out what he wanted. Mind magic was complicated. There were people who despite not being magic could use mind magic. Every mind was connected to the great web as the aranea called it. Indeed, the Ghost Serpent Acolytes had been more than willing to teach him provided he exchanged histories with them beforehand.

Then Roko disregarded the thought. Sometimes, it paid to keep his minds on himself. The unexpected was always interesting.

"You are granted permission to speak."

"Thank you, my lord. The lands to the south have an issue in mining. That is to say, we need land for mining and the farmlands are polluted because the earth beneath them is full of heavy metals. So, two birds, one stone, for you, yes?"

"I said you were free to talk, not barter. We will discuss this later when I am certain of the facts?"

"How much later?"

"Alright, how about now? I will discuss terms with the Kazinskis in person."

"Ah well, I'm supposed to do it for them."

"I am king and as my first act, I shall meet with my contacts in person. Where are they right now?"

The man quivered, taking off his monocle and wiping it clean with his clothes. In all honesty, Roko did not need to grill this man to know the Kazinski family's financial situation. They had simply not been anyone to worry about a generation or two ago. It seems the Divine had blessed them in this generation. Cirin was a wonderful business owner but her children surpassed her in notorierty. Daimen was a famous treasure hunter who was partially responsible for the opening of the gate between Koth and Eldemar. He was already involved in national level affairs. Fortov was a gifted musician. Not quite a world defining champion of the art but he did get repeated requests to visit homes for private music showcases. On top of that, the man was considered to be extremely charismatic. And then there was Zorian Kazinski, an empath. The ambassador of the Aranea, he was becoming a proficient mind mage and had ties to multiple noble houses including House Noveda, which was currently engaged in a legal battle between Tesen and Zach Noveda. There was also Kirielle Kazinski but she was nine so she was almost a non-factor other than possible future marriage obligations. In fact...

"I think I'll pay them a visit. Now."

"Now?"

"Now. Where are they?"

"Somewhere in Koth. I think they're all at the Taramatula estate."

"Of course. I shall return promptly."

WIth that, Roko got off the chair and went outside. The function would not end for several days as multiple things had to be figured out such as placement of advisors as well as possible marriage contracts so Roko taking a break was not too unusual. Still, upon leaving the room, he was quickly stopped by the Grand Mage and Spymaster.

The pair of them always made him feel uncomfortable.

Spymaster Oscar looked like a middle-aged man with tousled silver hair and thin brown eyes. He had a light complexion and sharp facial features. Interestingly, he had black eyebrows, suggesting that he may have had black hair when he was younger. He wore shaded glass spectacles and a small, purple, cross-shaped pin on the cowl around his neck. His outfit mainly consisted of an unzipped black suit over a dark green, buttoned vest and green shirt. He also wore black trouser shoes and long, dark-green pants. Grand Mage Ravenna was a raven haired voluptuous woman with a penchant for wearing fanciful dresses beneath her blue robes. Her grey eyes were said to pierce the soul. 

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Go to the Taramatula estate and demand an audience with the Kazinski family. I know you, I know how horribly bored you currently are but these peasants are beneath your time. What do you think, Ravenna?"

"Most people would be interested in Daimen and Zorian. The treasure hunter and the mind mage. But we have treasures and you are likely a far better mind mage than that wannabe. How old is he, fifteen? He could not possibly have had time to master his craft."

"I am uninterested in his craft. I am simply bored, like Mister Oscar."

"It's just Oscar now, king."

"Of course, Mister Oscar. Lady Ravenna, will you escort me to my quarters."

"Stop beating around the bush and just say you want to visit the Kazinski family. I know what you're thinking, you would have placated Oscar and then left anyways."

Roko turned his head, shame filling his cheeks at being caught. 

"No mind magic needed to know what kind of person you are."

"Ugh, let's go. Mister Oscar, watch my stuff."

All his identification papers were on him anyways. He raised his left hand and placed it at Ravenna's shoulder, and the two of them teleported towards the gate.

Chapter Text

This is the part where he kills you 

Chapter Text

Standing at 5 foot 3, Rostam took a look at his surroundings.

He wore the finest clothing in all of Eldemar, consisting of a golden suit with badges and buttons and whatever looks really fancy to the eye. He wore tight pants and a strap around his bulging belly. People often described him as being baby faced. His red hair and yellow eyes were at odds with his brown skins and unusual physique. Strapped to his sides were a sword and an axe. The two were meant to be little more than ornamental but Rostam had modified them. The blade carried a permanent ward of frost to instantly chill any wine glasses he came across whereas the axe was warded against demons because the wards were purple and they looked really fancy. His room was filled with gifts from all around the world including but not limited to a sofa, another sofa, a cushion, a hydra baby, several chests full of loot, a third sofa, a plate full of fake fruit and a two hundred pound/90 kilogram experimental machine gun, which used a complex series of wards and interlocking mechanisms to fire armor piercing bullets. It cost more than what most merchants make in a year to fire that gun for thirty seconds.

"My lord," called out Rostam's servant "it is time."

"But of course, Sam."

"It's Stipe."

"Onward Steven to the ceremony of blood."

Within Eldemar, Rostam was a somewhat influential person, for his age. As he made his way to his dungeons with the machine gun strapped to his back, where the damned made their desperate pleas for help, Rostam could only wonder at how thick the walls were. Indeed, each noble house had some kind of prison within their walls. There were things their enemies knew that they did not want others to know. Of course, his dungeons were better than most. Armored guards stood at each entrance, each holding a long ranged rifle and a stun baton, fizzling with sparks. They saluted him on the way down to the torture chamber. Entering through a vault-like door, Rostam sat on a comfortable chair while each of his condemned took a place at the corner of the room. The room with a large pentagram in the middle with ancient symbols on each line of the pentagram. For all of Rostam's power, he was not a mage. Although every living being had life within, it had taken Rostam five years of mind-numbing shaping exercises to achieve even the slightest show of strength in his magical form. It was from life that magic came. It was from death that magic would end. It stood to reason that a combination of the two would give Rostam power beyond reckoning. Blood magic utilized existing conditions, that is to say, it used the power of living beings to give greater power to the person who cast the ritual. And dominion over the soul would give Rostam the ability to see the very strands of magic, to manipulate them to do his bidding.

He could not increase his mana any further through any of the conventional methods. Each of the prisoners were supposedly from death row which made it possible for them to be killed in such a manner. Each of his guardsmen slit the throats of his prisoner, their energies and life force carefully pooled into the center through the magical words and gesture of Stipe. And from the center arose a demon.

They called him Mundus, Prince of Darkness.

Mundus' appearance was that of a gigantic living statue of an aging, muscular, bearded man with enormous feathered wings. The statue had a circular depression in his chest. Three red orbs with mysterious white symbols floated around him as he wated for Rostam to speak.

"Demon. I beckon thee."

"I can speak like a human, thank you very much."

"Oh."

"Speak, boy. What do you desire from me?"

"Eldemar, Sulamnon, Falkrinea. What is the status of our future?"

"The future is hazy and changing but some things are more consistent than others. My advice will not come freely. You must give me your soul."

"Done."

"Wait, what? Just like that. But you're-"

"Just take the soul and tell me what to do."

The demon raised his arm forward. It was probably just symbolic but Rostam could swear that energy flowed in a certain direction around. A thin green jelly erupted from the arm and ripped out Rostam's soul. It was a small little thing but Rostam had a backup. A set of souls buried within from birth that would carry out the necessary functions of his day-to-day life.

"Very well. I can see you think yourself damned already. Consider yourself lucky that I am in a courteous mood today. First things first, Falkrinea has hired a scientist named Sudomir to construct a vast array of wraith bombs to depopulate Eldemar territories. Airships are being constructed with ballista bolts, to destroy the facilities of Eldemar. Sulamnon has begun hiring mercenary armies to probe at Eldemar's defenses. Golems of varying height and size have been seen approaching the seas. And I think that about does it from my end. Therefore-"

The world broke in two and shifted to black.

When Rostam next opened his eyes, he found himself on a stone platform above a grassy plain. Beyond the plain was a cliffside with an endless sea. Turning around, Rostam spotted a massive metal door with the symbol of death upon it.

"What the fu-?"

An explosion explodes.

Chapter Text

Rostam didn't know what the explosion was about nor did he care. He felt blood tricking down his ears as he ran away towards a stone gate.

At the top of the gate were two stone gargoyles. Rostam barely paid them a glance as he pushed the doors open, stepping inside the room. The gargoyles turned their heads, smiling at the scared little human.

Closing the door behind him, Rostam searched for a hiding spot and came to an abrupt stop as he analyzed the room around him. Multiple statues of humans with wings battled giant insects on top of dragons. Red curtains were laid on the floor, as though someone had recently pulled them off the walls. Various stone weapons were scattered around the place with steps leading down to the center of the room. A singular lit torch was placed right down there.

A large crash behind the stone door indicated that Rostam would not be alone for long. Thinking fast, Rostam placed one of the red curtains over a statue and grabbed the torch at the bottom. Then he took the position left of the door.

The door opened fast and a giant form flew past Rostam, striking the statue under the red curtains. Confused for a moment, the creature grew still as Rostam struck from behind with the lit torch, lighting it on fire.

The creature spun and Rostam did the only thing he knew he could do in that moment. He struck the creature in the face, staggering it for a moment, took a step back and spin kicked it into the giant lizard statue, smashing it down.

Grabbing a stone mace, Rostam leapt upon the creature and started beating it senseless with the mace. Each blow rained down upon the creature's many eyes, dazing it but never hurting it permanently. It fluttered its wings and the air magically swept Rostam off his feet.

The creature stood again and this time, Rostam recognized. A Sulrothim, one of the giant desert insect men. They were superhumanly strong and fast, could fly, and even use tools. Their only real weakness was the weather: they could never leave their hot, barren wastelands.

The room felt relatively cold. Then to Rostam's surprise, the creature flew down and waved it's hands around before managing to speak

"I yield. Though art of passing skill. Warrior blood must run in thy veins, tarnished."

"Why did you attack me before?"

"Ah, so the tongue has changed. Very well, I was being constantly attacked by every human here. It was not an issue for me to dispatch them but you managed to take me by surprise. I am not one who is easily tricked so rather than extend the fight, I offer an immediate close."

Rostam thought fast. The wasp creature bothered him on an inner level. Outwardly, he simply sighed. He'd dealt with worse creatures than him. At least in matters of diplomacy.

"What was that explosion outside?"

The creature shrugged.

"I don't know."

A lie. You didn't bother using body language before.

"Where are we?"

The creature shrugged.

"I don't know."

Okay, maybe I don't understand how insect body language works.

"Are we friends now?"

"Yes."

"Ok, where do we go from here?"

"Outside, the fighting is intense. The Forsaken battle the armies of Mundus. If either of us go out there, we will not survive for long. So the only path is forward inside this castle."

"I'll pretend like I know who those people are. You lead, I'll follow."

The insect man thing walked forward towards the door with Rostam keeping his torch at him. The creature came to a halt as the door was locked.

The lock was peculiar. There were glowing symbols in the shape of rectangles on it. The rectangles gradually increased in shape whilst going down. There were three sets and the third set seemed connected to the actual lock. The insect touched one of the squares and the light of it transferred from it to to his finger. He touched the first square of the second set and it glowed. He tried to do the same with the second glowing rectangle, taking the light onto himself but upon touching the second rectangle, the light simply remained on his wrist. The light needed to go to the third column.

With trial and error, the rules of the puzzle became more clear. The goal was to move all the pieces to a different tower, likely the third. You couldn't place a big piece on top of a piece that is smaller than itself. So for example, you could transfer the light piece in the middle to the left, since the piece in the left column was bigger than the one in the middle. However, you couldn't move the one in the middle to the right since it would be bigger than than the top piece on that column.

After several minutes of fruitless problem solving, the creature smashed his fist into the door which responded by sending an electric shock through his body, knocking him down. Rostam got to the door and touched the light, a strange feeling of melancholy entering his body. In a minute or two, he placed the light at the appropriate locations and the light in the third column unlocked the door, albeit in a strange manner. Rather than opening, it seemingly bent inwards and vanished from existence. The dup entered the next room and found themselves on a massive chessboard.

The pieces were right in front of them. A knight larger than the insect. A pawn made of stone. And a gargoyle wearing a crown, marking him as king.

"I hope they can't move."

The gargoyles grinned and stood up.

Chapter Text

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?"

"In your mother's left-"

Zach willed it and a chunk of rubble smashed into the demon's face, crushing it. The demon swarm loomed above him, consisting of hundreds of  bat-like demons. Individually, they were not much of a threat but the Devouring Swarm had eaten dragons whole. At least the non magical ones.

Standing amidst the ruins of a pristine castle, Zach fired bolt after bolt, evaporating a demon per shot. The swarm bent down in the shape of a hurricane, each demons intent on mauling Zach, only to be repelled by his sigils and shield. A basilisk attempted to turn him into stone only for Zach to raise his fist, not even bothering to turn around and crushed it with a boulder. The swarm followed his idea and grabbed rocks from the nearby forest to throw at Zach. They found that each of the rocks they grabbed were enchanted to explode. Frustrated, the swarm swept over the land, searching for trees and other items to lob at Zach. The mage would regret dealing with a Baron of Demons. As the swarm knelt down, Zach unleashed a hurricane of his own, this one made entirely of fire. The Swarm attempted to dispel it, only to get caught off guard when Zach unleashed a volley of boulders at the swarm, hidden behind the hurricane. Each boulder flew into flame, ignited and then hit the swarm like fireworks, sending smaller chucks at the remnants of the horde. Manifesting a lightning serpent, Zach made it bite the head of the swarm, and with a gust of wind, pulled it down to the earth to finish it off with pieces of the boulders remaining suspended in mid-air.

The swarm bent inwards and they fused together into their true form. A giant spider. Zach didn't understand demon physiology nor did he care.

Phantom was a colossal arachnid, as gargantuan as an elephant and covered in a shell harder than rock. The exoskeleton was grey in color and covered in intricate red patterns: through the gaps, Phantom's molten body was visible. His blood was liquid magma, and the creature left a trail of fire behind him as he walked forward. The head had six distinct eyes, of a deep shade of blue. Phantom combined the traits of multiple arachnids, with an overall form resembling a spider, but a long scorpion like tail with a stinger coiled up on top of his abdomen and massive club-like forelimbs which he used to strike at his foes. Zach knew that from the first time he had faced the titular foe. His magical powers were fire-based and mostly related to controlling fireballs or magma. Zach was fairly certain it was male though it being able to spawn bat demon babies had been unusual. At Zach's side was a special spear, designed to negate heat. The catch was that it only negate heat from a specific point, as in stop a fireball but not a firestorm.

"Recess time is over boy! Here there's plenty of room to get real nasty. This time there's no holding back."

Phantom opened his mouth and spewed molten magma at Zach who simply teleported out of the way. He launched a near flawless magic missile, homing in on Phantom's mouth which closed just in time. Running as fast as the Grey Hunter, it lunged at Zach, intending on impaling him with his stinger. Zach did not resist and the stinger penetrated him, turning him into formless goo as the real Zach a storm of ice at Phantom from the back, penetrating his abdomen and freezing him in place. Drawing in his breath, Zach envisioned a spear piercing the heavens and a Force Lance formed at his finger tips. He aimed it at the Phantom and opened a portal above its head. He then opened the end of that portal directly behind him as unleashed the Force Lance upon his frozen foe. The foe glowed red and burst out of the ice trap, dodging the force lance. It flew at Zach and sensed impending peril when the force lance went into the portal and emerged out the other end, with Zach enabling true flight to dodge it. The Phantom attempted to dodge in mid air, only for Zach to restructure the air around it, dazing it long enough for the lance to strike him straight in the mouth, rupturing its insides. Turning invisible, Zach summoned multiple mud people and enabled wards on them to tank Phantom's heat whilst using Shield Breaker to disrupt Phantom's own magical defenses. The creature fell with a thunderous strike and the mud people surged in, the mud people fusing with Phantom's hard shells. Phantom regained his balance as Zach turned invisible, knowing Phantom could still see him. He hurriedly drank a potion of speed and barreled towards the demon. Summoning spectral jaws around Phantom, Zach jumped at Phantom who opened his mouth to swallow him whole. Restructuring the air around him once again and enabling true flight, Zach flew backwards and used the Jaws to force Phantom's jaws to remain open. Phantom shrugged off the attacks and superheated the air around him, burning Zach. 

Zach seemingly tanked the flames and telekinetically threw more boulders at it. Phantom was in the process of reverting back to his weaker but more versatile Devouring Swarm form when Zach opened the terrain beneath him and teleported into the gap, unleashing a hundred magic missiles from his absurd magical reservoir straight into Phantom's abdomen, one of his two weaknesses. Chunks of the demon flew everywhere, it screaming in pain as Zach cast a shield on himself and pushed the enemy directly upwards, creating a whirlwind of air. Manipulating the air and heat, Zach pulled the water of the mud people out of Phantom's exterior shell, leaving it in a much weaker broken state. Creating a portal, Zach divided into multiple duplicates, overwhelming Phantom with sheer numbers and a variety of Force spells. Phantom finally returned to his Devouring Swarm form when he realized what Zach had done. The boulder pieces from earlier had not been dropped and they clumped onto the weakened Devouring Swarm, crushing them in a ball. Tearing apart all of the bat demons of the Phantom, Zach teleported on top of the rocks, equipped his spear and force pushed the rock into the Devouring Swarm which haphazardly shifted back into the Phantom form. It destroyed the rock with molten spit, Zach's shield as the spear, cleverly hidden behind the rock, entered into the Phantom's mouth and froze it stuff.

The mouth had been the other weakness. Feeling his mana run out, Zach teleported back to the earth and let gravity do the rest. 

"Just to make sure."

The earth rose up in a spike and impaled the demon Baron through its chest, reducing it to a molten mess of flesh and demonic energy. The battle was over.

Phantom managed to breathe, attempting to gather ambient mana from the surroundings which Zach simply siphoned in to his own body. Phantom grinned as Zach realized what the creature had done. Demonic energy attempted to overwhelm him from within. Mustering his inner strength, Zach's soul flew out of his body and fused back in, jolting the fresh demon born long enough for Zach to exert his mental defenses, lobotomizing it. Power rushed out of his mouth and at Phantom, blinding the vile creature. 

Running out of mana, Zach retrieved his spear and sprinted towards Phantom when its stinger coiled out, a sign of surrender. 

"What is your name?"

"Fuck off. Where is she?"

"You heroic types, you think you can get everything you want through your magnificence. Your heroics mean little here. I will die and you will not torture me for information. Eventually, I will respawn and hunt you down again."

"I can always do something to your soul."

"And risk your own? You may as well offer it as a bargain."

"That will not be necessary."

Taking off his invisibility, Alanic stepped into the playing field. He raised his hands and bits of golden flame started to gather, genuinely frightening the Baron.

"She is at the Island."

"What island?"

"The island. You know the one, the place where we all come from."

"Why is she there?"

"Such love for someone who is practically a stranger to you. She is there because she wants to be there."

"What?"

"Hehehe."

The Baron glanced at Zach one final time as his body collapsed, ending his reign. Zach wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, his body running with a fever at his antics. He stared into the remnants of the castle, hoping he hadn't just kickstarted a splinter war.

Zorian, where are you?

XXX

"What's the plan?"

"Are you kidding me? Run, you idiot."

The insect man and Rostam bolted back in the room where they had come from, trying to find a lock for the door before recalling that the puzzle had been the lock. A stone arm burst through the door and smacked the insect man into one of the amphitheater statues, with two gargoyles ganging up on him, leaving Rostam to face the big one on his lonesome. He raised his fists in a boxing stance and the gargoyle closed its eyes, allowing him to take a free shot at it with his weak human fists.

A magic missile threw the gargoyle back.

A brave little girl stood before them, channeling in ambient mana and conjuring a small hurricane, continuously juggling the massive foe. Unable to help in any meaningful way, Rostam attempted to flee and ran straight into the one of the other gargoyles. It ran towards him and Rostam assumed one of his stances. Trying to break stone with his fist was probably a bad idea but there was something else he could do. When the creature came close, he grabbed it, spun around and threw him into one of the statues in the room. As expected, Rostam had a better sense of his footing than the heavy stone creature. He knelt down and straining his spine, lifted the statue the creature had crashed into. He then smacked the creature with it so hard that both the creature and statue broke. As he turned out, his back broke out in a cramp and he collapsed to the floor. The insect man managed to gain the upper hand and flew straight into the ceiling, dragging the gargoyle along with him. He threw the gargoyle down and Rostam did a handstand to break the gargoyle with his feet. It missed and died on impact with the ground.

On second thought, maybe I should have just pushed the statue down. Ah well, you can't always control if you're gonna flee or fight.

With the battle over, Rostam started to relax when he noticed the girl giving a murderous glare towards the insect man. She also had a fireball in one hand and a knife in the other.

"Woah, hey, he's on our side."

"Who are you? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't stab you."

"Cause it would be really painful?"

"Okay, never mind, I didn't really want to hurt anyone."

I meant for you, aw hell

"Who are you people?'

"I am Rostam. My friend is called..."

He glanced back.

"Tim."

"Your name is Tim."

"My name is Timidissime Ten Ta Cruel but that's a long name so I prefer Tim. You need not fear me human. Fear the one next to you, who planned on breaking a gargoyle with his legs."

"Shut up."

All-in-all, this was looking up to be a terrible situation. Rostam was stranded in a hostile place, his first companion was a bug man named Tim and perhaps his second companion would be a girl who loved to murder. But he was no match for creatures like these on his own.

"We should move as a party."

"Okay."

"We should be friends now."

"Okay."

"Just like that? Okay?"

"Okay. I don't want to be alone right now."

"What's your name?"

She paused.

"I'm not really supposed to tell to grown ups."

"I'm ten years old."

"I don't believe you. How old's the bugger?"

"I am two, thanks for asking."

"Okay, I'm ten too."

She dropped the knife and Rostam shook her hand like a gentleman, albeit while he was towering over her.

"My name's Kirielle Kazinski."

Chapter Text

The castle didn't look very big from the outside. It didn't look much bigger than a mansion but that might have been the result of dimensionlaism or some other space compressing magic. 

Whatever battle had been going on outside the gate had ended and Rostam took the chance to look around. He took a deep breath, smelling the taste of salt in his mouth from the nearby ocean. Bodies of various demons lay on the floor, their hands made of scythes and their awkwardly proportioned bodies lay scattered in different pieces. Their heads were crowns of red and silver. Rostam tried tearing a scythe off and it disintegrated. A form of conjuration magic that had the weapon be made a part of the demon's body. The battle between the demons and their mysterious foe had taken place near a derelict cathedral. He couldn't go inside, the rubble blocked the entrance but he could make out symbols of the gods within. A bridge extended from the cathedral out over the ocean to a suspended platform held aloft by unknown means. Across the castle was naturally a drawbridge and a staircase that led somewhere below. 

"So, how did you learn magic missile at the age of ten?"

"How did you?"

"I didn't?"

"Oh, my brother took me a place called a Black Room to help me train."

Rostam did a double take.

"Are you sure?"

"Yup, spent a whole month in there."

"Why? What was the urgency?"

At that, Kirielle fell silent. Deciding he wasn't going to get much more information out of her, Rostam turned towards Tim who was staring intently at a statue of a gargoyle. At least, Rostam hoped it was a statue and not an actual gargoyle. Tim seemed to have trouble deciding as he broke the statue in two with his bare hands. The shattering of stone released a bit of dust causing Kirielle to cough.

"I don't suppose I could ask for your history then, Tim?"

"Unusual change in topic but go ahead."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Tim."

"A name means many things. That name in particular means nothing to me. Where did you come from, what's your story?"

"Oh."

"Oh? You're not going to tell?"

"It's not all that interesting, to be honest. I came from the hive to do the bidding of my betters."

"Your betters?"

"The angels."

He gestured towards the cathedral, removing some of the rubble in the way. Having nothing better to do, Rostam and Kirielle ventured inside. Beyond the rubble, the tapestry was tattered but you could make out a general shape of a hand reaching towards the heavens. The alter depicted a tree with eyes and blades reaching down towards the earth, their tips glowing with power. Tim placed his hand atop the altar and sparks blew forth. Mana seemed to swirl around him and he glowed green for a moment before returning to normal.

"My people once desired to spread across the world. But we were weak. Or rather, the world was strong. Everywhere we went, we were hunted and eaten by the Roknari. I suppose you could call them the predecessors to the lizard men. They were much larger and had a vast variety. Some could fly, some could spew poison, most could tank our physical attacks. But they seemed to have an intimate relationship with the world. As in, the forces of the world. They sensed us poking and prodding at them for weaknesses, and then they came into our homes. Not because they were hungry but because they could sense a potential threat. Time after time, our hives slowly extinguished until only the ones in the sands remained. In desperation, we prayed to every god we could find."

"Roknari gods?"

"Maybe. Who can say if they even had any? I recall learning that one of their temples was designed for prayer against the gods, as though to bar their prowess on this world. At any rate, one of the gods answered."

"He buffed you up?"

"I'm not too sure. Legends speak of the god simply pulling a rock from elsewhere and smashing it down to the earth. The speed and the collective mana of different system turned it into one of the most devastating forces to ever exist. We call it the Rod of God, for we never found the god's name. It is a simple process though dastardly difficult. Send an object to reach beyond this planet, into the stars, using magic alone. Provided that the object was heavy and resistant to physical damage, and that you could time it right, the object would fall back down. Penetrating the ambient mana and building up on speed, its landing would cause such a shockwave that it could eviscerate a mountain in a mountain range. We believe that was what had been done to the Roknari. The angels came soon after."

He pointed at the alter.

"They looked like trees, you know? And our lesser brethren love trees. They gave us food, light, healing and even some rudimentary forms of magic. They were our parents and we await even a simple command from them."

"They still speak to you."

There was a brief silence.

"Occasionally."

The altar's light nearly diminished by the end of the story. All living beings had mana in them but for a person to be called a mage, there had to be enough of a difference between their internal supply and the reservoir of the soul so that using a mana supply fully would not cause physical exhaustion for the person in question. Rostam raised his hand at the altar and the magic came to him, filling his abysmally low mana supply. Kirielle, fascinated by the phenomenon, reached out.

And the altar vanished.

"You are strong, little one. A bit too strong for a blessing. Perhaps we should return later."

"Aw, come on. I deserve it too."

"Its not a matter of deserving. That altar has been altered to serve everyone, it just ran out of power. At any rate, we should plan our next step."

"Well," began Rostam "since we're stuck in this castle, we need to search for supplies. Food, some kit for a portable bathroom and medicine."

"Do either of you feel hungry?"

"No but it's not like we've been here very long."

"I've been here a month."

At that, Rostam and Tim froze.

"A month? You've been stuck in this castle for a month?"

"No. There's a way out."

"Why are you still here, little one? Why were you at the entrance of the castle?"

"It doesn't matter. Look, that floating place is the way out. We gotta bring a head."

"What?"

"A head of something really big?"

"How do you know this?"

"I've had a month to look around."

Something's not right. Even if the outside was dangerous, Kirielle was clearly surprised by the gargoyles we faced. Was the castle just not active before?

"We can leave that for later. Medicine is always useful. I don't think any of us are proficient healers as it is."

"What do you suggest, warrior?"

"There's a staircase that leads somewhere below. My hunch is that medicine, along with other supplies, would naturally be kept down there."

"So our path has been decided. Let us move."

The trio marched as one with nary a complaint. Kirielle took the front whilst Rostam took the back. If anyone had been observing the group, it would have looked almost comical. A strong man hiding at the back, his eyes searching for hidden things in the shadows. A floating insect man who couldn't just fly over the castle. And a little girl who looked really to tear a wolf apart. Together, the group descended down the stairs, being mindful of their steps with Kirielle summoning mage light to help guide their way. The group emerged into the room...

That didn't have a ceiling and seemed to be in the outside.

"How in the hells?"

"Some kind of dimensional magic. Look, herbs. Perhaps you can make something of them. There's even a laboratory to the east."

The "room", if you could call it that, was a garden. It was full of flowers and herbs, dotted around a vast field. Some stone benches were scattered here and there, with workshops of woods at the east, likely for families to rest in this strange place. The trio moved into the center of the pavilion and a set of wards activated, barricading the entrance they had just come out of.

From high above, a giant bird like figure approached. 

"Oh come on."

Its voiced boomed across the field.

"YOU. ARE YOU THE HUMAN WHO CHALLENGES MUNDUS."

"No, we're just lost. Do you-?"

"HELL YEAH WE DO. NOW FUCK OFF BIRDBRAIN BEFORE WE KICK YOUR ASS."

Where did a ten year old learn to say that? At least when I learned it, it was from someone who was a jerk. Kirielle had been well oriented before.

"BEWARE, MORTALS! FOR YOU FACE GRIFFON, MASTER OF THE SKIES!"

Shadows enveloped the surroundings as Griffon swooped down.

Griffon appeared as a large, brown raptor-like bird, but it had a hole in its chest, filled with swirling black magic, and its exposed skull looked like the skull of several birds fused together. Its size and the speed at which it moved would allow it to defeat even the strongest of warriors, and it had the added advantage of flight. Its razor sharp beacon opened up and red lightning swirled down to annihilate the trio, only for Kirielle to stretch her hands as she seemingly caught the lightning. The force of it catching blew Rostam back while Tim held his ground. Running a bit, she chucked it back at Griffon who opened his mouth as though to swallow it. Straight down into its gullet it went, with Griffon being blissfully unaware of the perfect magic missile that Kirielle had sent behind, perfect because it had been nearly invisible. Striking it straight in the throat, the energies in its body erupted as though a jerk reaction and it lost control of its wings. It proceeded to crash straight down - at Kirielle. Rostam was too slow to even get there so he could only cry out. 

Before Griffon fully crashed however, Tim flew forth and grabbed Kirielle, narrowly avoiding a bloody splatter himself. Placing Kirielle down, he hammered away at Griffon with his hands, each strike strong enough to break human bone.

Griffon was not human. It moved its body faster than possible and bit Tim, crushing his physical body. As Tim howled in anguish, Rostam picked up a bench and smashed it into Griffons backside. Ducking, he avoided the swirling energy of its red lighting as Griffon flew into the air, with streams of air and rubble accompanying it on the way. Unfortunately, Tim had not broken free and continued to struggle as the creature increased the pressure. Kirelle levitated two rocks and lit them on fire, throwing them at the creature. It effortlessly dodged them and flew over them with strange symbols appearing above the two humans. A bombardment of lightning and and raw destructive power followed, reducing the landscape to rubble. Kirielle had managed to tank the blast with a ward while Rostam had haphazardly dodged each strike which thankfully had been condensed and not meant to strike a large area by itself. Swirling the energy of the bombardment into a sphere, Kirelle clumped the earth around it and fired a magic missile at each clump, launching it at Griffon. This time, the rocks exploded and knocked Griffon to the earth. 

It crashed near some kind of derelict building and having nothing better to do, Rostam rushed inside of it. There, a badly wounded Tim engaged in a melee fight, deftly avoiding its attacks and smashing it with furniture. Kirielle followed suit and paused, charging up some kind of attack. It alarmed Griffon who tried flapping its wings to escape, with a nearby pillar shaking next to it. Rostam ran towards the pillar and tried pushing it down but Griffon was much stronger. It struck the pillar and some of the force transferred over to Rostam who crashed straight into a wall. Skin broke as blood spewed from his mouth. His bones cracking, Rostam collapsed, having almost died on the spot. Our of the corner of his eyes, Kirielle finished charging and a burst of golden flames spread over the Griffon. Griffons beak seemed to evaporate under pressure and the creature screamed. It looked directly at Kirielle who fell down and clutched her head in pain. With one remaining wing, it knocked Tim away and in a molten mesh of blood and demonic energy, ventured over to Kirielle to finish her off.

Though it was risky, Rostam recalled his old training and fused a bit of his soul to his body, speeding up the healing process. 

Something broke. Something he would never get back.

Rostam leapt at Griffon and Griffon turned to face him. It raised a non-existent wing before realizing its mistake and Rostam managed to reach its head, doused in golden flame but somehow not burning him. He reached into Griffon's left eye and with both hands, started to pull it out. In a panic, Griffon flew back and hit the pillar, intending to crush Rostam. In the end, it ended up hurting itself a lot more. With the leverage of the fallen pillar, Rostam successfully ripped out its eyes and grabbed a rock. Blow after blow rained down upon the empty eye socket, breaking Griffon's face and causing a bloody mess of a scar. Its other wing raised and mental anguish passed through Rostam, who collapsed, fading into unconsciousness. Griffon, still focused on the spellcaster, attempted to crush Kirielle with its remaining wing, full of black lightning. Kirielle send waves of small ectoplasmic birds at it, hindering its vision as she slowly backed into a corner. The bird demon was in no rush as it could sense Kirielle's supply depleting. Kirielle managed to cast one more spell which look unusual, filling her with various colors as some kind of spectral form burst forth. Griffon ignored the form and with one final blow, raised its wing. A burst of black lightning, wind and a pure red beam of hatred attacked Kirielle, destroying the wall of the entire building.

The battle was lost.

Griffon looked back to finish off Rostam when an arm pierced it. Tim had raised his non broken arm to penetrate the empty eye socket, his body helped up by Kirielle, unharmed by Griffon's seemingly fatal attack. Holding it in place for a few seconds, seconds desperately ticked by as Griffon regenerated his other wing. Tim stepped back and with the time well spent, Kirielle launched a magic missile into Griffon's gaping wound, finishing the demon off for good. The flesh and demonic energy broke apart as Griffon collapsed into pieces, its body no more.

The battle was won and Kirielle closed her eyes.