Farmas leaned up against the wall of the Grand One’s audience chamber, his arms crossed as he impatiently waited for their “guests” to arrive. He was ready to leave the Enclave again to hunt down their little problem and eliminate them once and for all, because it was dangerous to let him live.
Especially after they had revealed to the Grand One everything they had learned, going over Vilnesh’s head to present their findings. Vilnesh was understandably enraged that Farmas and Syrlia had bypassed him instead of coming to him directly, but with the way things were going in their Kingdom, they had bigger issues than catering to such ridiculous demands.
The state of the Kingdom was becoming more worrisome by the day, at least according to the few informants they still had outside of the Enclave. While the closing of yet another of the Calamities a few days before, this time the one located in the northeastern region of the Kingdom, was good for the overall energy stability and had helped to shrink the breach that the Enclave guarded against even more, it was the way it was closed that had not only Farmas worried, but nearly every Guardian in the Enclave. Even the Grand One could be seen as having a modicum of concern, something that Farmas had rarely, if ever, seen in their powerful leader – and that was saying something.
It was all the half-breed’s doing, this Fusionist that was Vilnesh’s offspring. His continued existence had been revealed in an earlier meeting, once the Grand One learned of his presence, as well as being the likely suspect in Chinli’s death, and while that might have given the Guardians a reason to perhaps attempt to capture and study the wayward child, it was what he was doing that threatened their very superiority.
Fusions. Once thought to be nothing more than a waste of time, even after decades of research into them soon after they were first discovered by their slaves, it turned out that this half-breed could utilize them in undiscovered ways, producing them with enough strength to potentially rival the Guardians’ abilities. While that hadn’t been proven conclusively yet, enough rumors had drifted into their informant’s ears about some so-called “Volunteers” that it was too hard to ignore.
If it was just the half-breed, this Fusionist, using this new source of strength, that was one thing; it was actually a small source of pride that the Guardians could see him using his disabilities and overcoming his half-slave nature to become a force to be reckoned with. But the problem arose when the filthy half-breed had begun sharing those powerful Fusions with slaves. While they might’ve encouraged slaves in the past to become stronger as Mages and Martials so that they could protect the Kingdom from Scission incursions, there was always a limit to their strength – and they presented no threat to the ones actually in charge. It was a fairly clever system that always balanced the scales of power in favor of the Guardians.
But these Fusions could upset that balance, giving the slaves an advantage that could produce a real threat. Not individually, of course, because that was ridiculous; but when the Guardians were outnumbered by the slaves nearly 30,000 to 1, even a million tiny pinpricks against their defenses could cause them to bleed. There were only so many of the slaves that they could simultaneously control with their Dominion magic, after all, and they could be overwhelmed before they knew it. It was a potential disaster in the making; even if they were able to beat back hordes of slaves who might revolt once they discovered where to find the Guardians, killing half of them in the process, they could end up dooming the Kingdom because of so many lost hands that could otherwise be utilized in killing monsters and closing Apertures.
In other words, arming the slaves with powerful Fusions was a lose-lose situation, so they needed to remove the source of those Fusions.
How to go about doing that was hotly discussed throughout the entire Enclave, ranging from striking first and laying waste to various hotbeds of potential rebellion to luring the half-breed to the Enclave, where he could be overwhelmed and destroyed before he could cause any more problems for them. The latter was put forward largely because it was revealed that Vilnesh had managed to somehow capture the Human “family” that the half-breed was raised with, and they were now held in stasis until they could be experimented upon to discover the secret of potential Guardian procreation. However, Vilnesh refused to give them up for some sort of lure, as he insisted that they were too important to risk – and the Grand One appeared to agree. Once this crisis was over, they could experiment to the fullest extent of their abilities, because finding a solution to their reproduction issues was probably the most important discovery that they could or would ever produce.
Their arguments and indecisions were annoying to Farmas, who craved to leave the Enclave and eliminate the half-breed once he found him. He was fairly confident that even with these powerful Fusions, this “Fusionist” wasn’t a match for him.
But he also wasn’t stupid. Chinli, for all that she was the weakest Guardian, had obviously underestimated the half-breed, which led to her death; while he didn’t know all the details, he wasn’t going to be stupid and attempt to kill Vilnesh’s spawn by himself – as much as he’d achieve an enormous amount of satisfaction from doing so. He would take another Guardian along to watch his back, of course, and since he was already used to pairing up with Syrlia, she could join him on their expedition of pest extermination.
That was precisely why he was in the Grand One’s audience room, leaning up against the wall with Syrlia nearby. A dozen other Guardians were also standing or lounging around the large space, equally as impatient or simply bored-looking, as they waited for their “guests” to arrive. While it wasn’t common knowledge who was coming, Farmas and Syrlia were there when the messenger arrived, so they had the foreknowledge to know that this was important. As much as he didn’t want to admit that they probably needed some outside help to decide what to do about the half-breed, he knew that the Enclave could spend weeks or months arguing different viewpoints before anything was decided; they needed to something to spur them to action, and he had a feeling that these “guests” were precisely what was required.
Farmas glanced at Syrlia as he heard the large, ornate, gilded doors swing open, followed by the stomp of feet. A pair of Martial slave guards in full plate armor – a ridiculous affectation, as they would be useless against a Guardian or any other source that could threaten a Guardian – led a procession of slaves inside the audience room. Almost every single individual of the 11 people that entered was a Mage, wearing what he figured were supposed to be fancy robes, and reaching out with his senses, he was surprised at how powerful most of them actually were. From his information, he immediately recognized 8 of them as the leadership of the shadowy group called Unspoken Response, an organization that they’d used heavily in the past to great effect, but hadn’t utilized too much of over the last decade or so, for a variety of reasons. Previously, he had thought that they had been executed after the Nobles had been largely released from their control, but he’d recently learned that he was mistaken.
Judging by what he could feel from them, and from what he remembered that they were now referred to as, he could identify the ones named Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Nature, Shadow, and Light. There was also one that wasn’t as powerful in any individual element, but was strong in all of them – an extreme rarity in Human slaves, as they tended to gravitate toward one element or another. This was Prime, someone he’d never met before, as he hadn’t personally interacted with the organization for hundreds of years; he vaguely remembered Prime’s predecessor, but of this new one, he knew nearly nothing.
There were also two others with these leaders of the Unspoken Response, and it didn’t take long for him to guess who—or more accurately—what they were. The first was a woman who, despite being in the presence of her betters, had the look of one who saw everyone as beneath them. He was very familiar with that look, as he shared it, though in his case it was actually accurate. Based on that look, he could only assume she was a Noble, and a gentle touch of his Dominion Magic showed that she was under the control of one of the Guardians. He didn’t dig too far, nor try to discover who it was, because that was considered rude, but it was enough to know that they had some influence over at least one of these “guests”.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
With a long-standing tradition of not directly controlling the Unspoken Response, as it was better to allow the organization the ability to have the freedom to make their own decisions, it was unlikely that they would chance usurping more control now. It was possible that the Grand One would make that decision, but it wasn’t up to Farmas.
Strangely enough, the second unknown individual, who was dressed as one of the Mage Academy Professors, was also under the control of a Guardian; another brief touch with his Dominion magic showed that it was actually a different Guardian than the Noble, but again he didn’t pry. It didn’t really matter in the long-run who it was, only that the “guests” could be controlled somewhat.
But it was the final slave that was dragged into the room that caught his attention. His Magical Detection Skill went wild as he assessed the young Human, who appeared drowsy from a beating, but was still conscious. His arms and hands were painfully tied behind his back with a strong chain, making it obvious that he was a Martial of some sort and likely to be able to break out of anything weaker. What was crazy, though, was that Farmas also detected the spark of a Mage within the young slave.
Impossible!
He wasn’t alone in his shock, as he could see that every other Guardian in the room had fixated on the young Human as well, with a few of them appearing as though they were within seconds of rushing over and experimenting on the bizarre individual to discover how this could’ve happened. Only Guardians, and potentially the half-breed because of his heritage, could access both sides of their magical gift, so this abomination had to be explored so that they could discover how to prevent such a thing from happening in the future.
Before any of them could move to personally investigate this strange Human, the group came to a stop, and a door at the end of the audience chamber opened. Out of the door came a scowling Vilnesh, who immediately schooled his expression to one of indifference once he walked a few steps inside, and he was followed by the Grand One a few seconds later.
Farmas immediately bowed as he saw the glowing golden robes of their leader, keeping his eyes from staring at their magnificence. “Raise your eyes. There’s no need for all this right now,” he heard in a soft, melodic voice, and he lifted his face to stare into perfection.
The Grand One wasn’t only the most powerful of them all, but was the personification of beauty and grace. The natural Dominion magic that emanated from them was so strong that it even slightly affected the other Guardians, which was the reason why they avoided looking at the Grand One most of the time. Farmas had to tear his gaze away as he looked to see the reaction of their “guests”; it was always an experience watching others react to the presence of the Grand One, and this occasion was no different. Each of the Humans that had entered were on their knees, staring at the perfection in front of them, and he could see their gazes glaze over slightly, at least until he could feel the Grand One rein in their natural Dominion magic enough to snap them out of their temporary fugue state.
When he looked closer at them, however, he realized that it wasn’t all of their guests that reacted like that. The one being dragged along had apparently recovered enough to lift his gaze, and he simply looked impassively, if not a little angrily, at the Grand One – as if they were of no consequence. Farmas had to restrain himself from rushing over and taking the slave’s head off his shoulders, and he wasn’t the only one. A few even took a step toward the Human when they saw that, but they were stopped by the Grand One’s voice.
“Stop. Let them speak.”
Everyone in the room froze, giving their guests a chance to present why they were there in the first place.
“Thank you, your excellency,” Prime spoke, giving the Noble woman a look to keep her mouth shut when she opened her mouth. The sheer magical strength of the Unspoken Response leader could nearly rival that of a Guardian, though of course he was missing the other half of his potential – so he was no threat to them. “We’ve come here today with a dual purpose. While we’re not personally aware of how much you know about the one called ‘The Fusionist,’ we felt it would benefit you to know that he is a serious threat to the stability of the Kingdom. As has been our duty since the Unspoken Response was first established, we take our responsibility in safeguarding the Kingdom very seriously, which is why we took a contract to eliminate one who has been seriously disrupting the safety and stability of the status quo.
“Unfortunately, The Fusionist has proven to be significantly more of a threat than we realized upon taking the contract, and he has not only managed to avoid elimination, but has, in turn, eliminated every single Responder sent against him. Not only that, but we are convinced that he has the ability to track us down, despite the impossibility of such an action, and we would request your help in completing our contract. I realize that we are overstepping the bounds of our agreement, but please… let me explain.”
Prime grabbed the unusual young Human and pushed him forward. “This here is the second reason we’ve come, and will hopefully explain in a little more detail how dangerous this Fusionist individual really is to the Kingdom. Captured at great expense and difficulty, this is one of the ‘Volunteers’ that the target has not only organized into a cohesive fighting force, but has somehow made permanently stronger and immune to the mind-controlling bugs that are still a problem in a large swath of the southeastern portion of the Kingdom. As I’ve had confirmed by others, our contracted target has somehow managed to unlock magical potential in normal people, in addition to somehow granting them access to all of their potential. In other words, his Volunteers have access to both Mage and Martial stats and abilities, which is blasphemy of the highest order, as I’m sure you know. More than that—”
The Grand One held up their hand, stopping Prime from saying any more. The perfect Guardian glided forward, their eyes on the defiant gaze of the captive Volunteer, and Farmas felt a slight strain as he watched the Grand One ramp up their Dominion magic; it would’ve been more intense if it had been directed toward him, but instead it was fully slamming into the young, bound Human. He watched the Volunteer grimace in pain as his eyes nearly rolled up into his head, and he fully expected him to quickly fall under the Grand One’s control.
But, as impossible as it was, that didn’t happen. When the golden-robed one pulled their Dominion magic back, the young man hung slightly limp in the grasp of his captors, but the defiance was still fully present; if anything, it was even more intense.
“Do your worst, you filthy Gergasi! You’ll get nothing from me! The Fusionist is our savior, and there is nothing you can do to me to get me to betray him!” the Volunteer shouted, before spitting in the Grand One’s face.
Farmas twitched, but he was too late; he watched as Mardrik, a fellow Guardian, completely bisected the Volunteer from head to crotch for his action. Even as the two halves separated from the sword that cut the body of the slave apart, there was a buildup of Mana from two different places inside the corpse: In the head and in the chest.
As should be expected, the Grand One was already moving, and as they lifted their hand, a protective bubble surrounded the corpse, trapping Mardrik’s sword inside. The enraged Guardian stepped back just as the two sources of Mana exploded violently, detonating inside the protective bubble and obliterating the body of the Volunteer.
“W-What was that?” he heard one of the Unspoken Response ask; Farmas didn’t know, but he had his suspicions. They were confirmed by the Grand One a moment later.
“Ruptured Fusions. An artificial method to provide this trash with access to their full potential, as well as blocking any Dominion magic.” They looked at Prime and the others, and Farmas could practically feel their anger on his skin. “This ‘Fusionist’ needs to die. We will provide assistance, though it necessarily will be limited so as not to make the situation in the Kingdom worse. I’m assuming you have a plan already?”
Farmas watched with amusement and lingering anger at the disrespectful Volunteer as Prime audibly gulped under the gaze of the Grand One. “Uh, yes, we do, your excellency.”
“Good. We’ll provide whatever aid you need, but for now, Farmas and Syrlia have the most experience tracking down your target, and will assist in any way possible.” A look at them both of them before the Grand One swept away, retreating through the door through which they had arrived a few seconds later, was all Farmas needed to know. He and Syrlia would technically be at the disposal of Prime and the Unspoken Response, but when it came down to it, he was authorized to sacrifice them all if it was necessary to take down the half-breed.
With the demonstration of the anti-Dominion magic Fusion in the Volunteer, it became even more of a priority to eliminate Vilnesh’s spawn. It wasn’t about the death of Chinli anymore; this was about losing control of the entire Kingdom, if such Fusions were allowed to spread.
With a grim face, he walked over to the still-shocked group of slaves, staring them down until they flinched away. “So, tell me… what you have planned to kill the one you call, ‘The Fusionist’….”